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Gwen ran full tilt through the side doors and into the courtyard, expecting to see an inquisitional court assembled for their Gwen hunt, racking her over the coals for the dead koi. Instead, she was greeted by her babulya, seated beside a brewing pot of Maofeng Cha, the tea from Fur Peak. "Gwen, come." Like a shy kitten, she made her way across the cold cobblestones. Despite sprinting for thirty minutes, she wasn't at all tired. At one point, she even made a four-meter leap between two estuary banks without incident. By the last stretch, she was overcome by a runner's high, where a strange euphoria, coupled with the vigorous circulation of Almudj's Essence, washed away all fatigue and anxiety. She had felt so good that she opted for a second lap around the manor, trying to capture the trigger that precipitated her chemical elation. And so it was, almost twelve kilometres later, Gwen stood facing her grandmother, her trembling legs perspiring in the moonlight. "I am sorry, Babulya," she began. "It's alright, child. I believe you weren't trying to take Percy's Amulet." The warmth in her voice startled Gwen. "I wasn't," Gwen aped her babulya's proclamation reflexively. "He was in pain, and I thought I'd help. I didn't know that he had developed a complex about it." "Percy has his circumstances," her babulya explained patiently. "Can you blame a boy for having a big sister he may never catch up to?" "I see." Gwen lowered her head even as she felt a secret, vindicating thrill. The truth was often stranger than fiction. She had suspected Percy's grievance but had doubted the extent to which her brother was under the Green-Eyed Monster's spell. "Well, I just wanted to know you were alright." Klavdiya took Gwen's hand and warmed her fingers. She then patted her granddaughter's cheeks, arranged her blouse, and brushed her skort. Russian grandmothers were very tactile people. "Can you spare an old woman a few minutes?" "Of course, Babulya, anything you need." "Just a few minutes will suffice, dear." Grandmother and granddaughter found a cosy spot within the private pavilion. The water below was, unfortunately, empty of koi. Gwen sipped from the cup her grandmother passed over, awed by the Fur Tea's refreshing invigoration. Her babulya waited until she had settled before continuing. "How are you feeling?" "Awful," Gwen replied honestly, though the running had improved her mood drastically. "Babulya, can I say something you're not going to like?" "Of course, dear." "Morye, Hai, Dad—he's a terrible father. I can't stand his selfishness, and I don't want to be a part of his wedding." Klavdiya patted her hand. "I know that, dear." "But I can't leave, can I?" Her grandmother shook her head. Gwen sighed. Her grandmother was nice, but she wasn't without baggage. "Gwen, your father is—in many ways—still childish. I am afraid Guo has been too harsh on him since he was a boy." "Sounds like Grandfather was too lenient," Gwen griped cattily. "Oh, the number of times I had to heal Hai because Guo had beaten him within an inch of his life..." Gwen winced. "I... I don't know what to do about Hai either," her babulya confessed, her face looking like she'd tasted a bitter lemon. "We had wanted the best for the boys, but Jun... and Hai... Sometimes I wonder if things could've been simpler if we had stayed in Hubei or if I had stayed in Harbin. But then, of course, if all of us had neglected our duties on the Front, there might not be a China left. We would have scattered into the wind, a broken family, and you, my dear child, would not have existed." Gwen wasn't sure how to respond. She had never had a doting grandmother, much less one who was pouring her heart out. "Your grandfather is angry, Gwen, but he is not unnecessarily hostile because of you. This business from Hai has lost him a lot of respect. Secretary Liu's daughter is no shrinking violet. We could have called the whole thing off were it not for the fact that Qīn is with child. Our family has always stayed neutral to the politics within the CCP—but with this union, we've been pulled into Liu's Faction—the conservative faction. Do you see what I mean?" Gwen felt a sense of déjà vu, thinking of Master Kilroy and his troubles with the Factionism in Sydney. What did that portend if her family here were to be drawn into the CCP's internal politics? "That's ominous," she muttered, not entirely understanding the context but wise enough to speculate. "One would think so," Klavdiya agreed. "The CCP doesn't have Factions in the traditional sense, like the Tower Mages, who share different world-views. The Factions within the Party are simply power-hungry wolves banding together as much for safety as the acquisition of territory. Liu's faction falls under the banner of General Secretary Won Liping, and they have been aggressively seeking out allies. Your grandfather's position as the Committee Chair and Secretary of the Confidential Communications Department must remain neutral; he holds too many secrets of the upper echelon to belong to one faction or another." _Jesus,_ Gwen muttered under her breath. Does that mean the family may fall from grace just because of her father's wayward dick? "Babulya..." Gwen wanted to help, but she didn't know how. If she was Gunther or someone like her Brother-in-craft, she could offer the family a haven in Australia. But she was just a student. "I don't know what to say." "Guo wanted to cut ties with Liu, regardless of the child in Qīn's belly," her babulya spoke very quietly so that her voice was audible only to Gwen. "But that would put us in another dilemma; we would then be seen as a part of the Central Committee Chair, Yi Jinhua's faction." "Bloody hell, fucking Dad..." Gwen gnashed her pearly teeth. "Sorry..." "I hope you understand why Guo is so quick to anger," her babulya added. "The koi, the insult, the commotion with Percy, all of it weakens his position when negotiating with Liu." Gwen couldn't accept her babulya's justification as a viable rationale. Having a fuckwit son was no reason to rag on the fool's perfectly estranged granddaughter. "I see." Her babulya continued massaging Gwen's fingers. "You are right to be upset, Gwen. I can't deny you that." "So what does Grandfather have in mind?" "He doesn't know either, dear." "There are things he doesn't know?" Gwen scoffed. "There are too many things Guo knows. He knows Secretary Liu wouldn't free us from the hook that easily, especially now that the fisherman has unexpectedly snagged a mighty sturgeon." "He should be careful. Maybe there is a dragon underneath the water." "If only, my dear. Nothing is ever simple when there is the temptation of power involved. Guo and I agree that we don't want you to be involved. It may be too late to refute your father now, but I promise things will be better from here. You won't have to do anything other than show up, walk the aisle, and then sit quietly until the banquet ends." "Okay, Babulya." Gwen squeezed the old woman's hands. Even now, she was thinking of campus life and how removed it was from all this unwarranted drama. The futility of it all grated on her. She might be able to whittle down a Thunder Wyvern, but she couldn't prevent her father from marrying the woman of his dreams and fucking his own family over in the process. _Or could she?'_ The temptation was astoundingly poignant. "What about Percy? Is he alright?" Her babulya put on a complex expression that was difficult to read. "Guo has set a tightrope for Percy to walk, and your brother refuses to get off." Her grandmother took a long draught of the scalding tea. "All I can do is 'be there' to catch them in the fall, do you know what I mean?" Gwen bit her lips with annoyance. She understood, but her babulya's martyrdom filled her with indignity. "You have your own life, Gwen." Her babulya brushed back a lock of hair from Gwen's grim face. "After the IIUC, whether Fudan emerges victorious or otherwise, you will enter the service of the Commonwealth Towers. You may serve yourself or join a Tower Faction, as your Master had done. We will be at odds, even if not entirely, but at odds. These days that we have enjoyed each other's company, and indeed the days to come, will all become pleasant memories as our Paths divide. I want you to remember us fondly. We were absent grandparents, and in many ways, we're still incapable of being here for you; Guo and I, we're imperfect people compelled by circumstance, and I hope you can forgive us for being so selfish." Gwen felt a convulsion of hurtful passions wrecking her chest. Her babulya's kindness was the cruellest cut. What could she say after that? All she could do was hold the old woman, thinking of the alternative. Would it have been better if she had never met Klavidya? Then what? No Babulya. No Petra. No Mina or Tao. No Mayuree. No Uncle Jun- The alternative prospect was too terrible to bear. She shivered, feeling goosebumps crawl all over her body. Her babulya noticed and channelled a mote of positive mana into her body. Gwen's Almudj-Essence reacted, pushing the foreign element from her mana channels. Klavdiya raised an eyebrow. She looked as though she wanted to comment but shook her head instead. "Your skirt is a little too short, don't you think?" It was a very grandmotherly thing to say. "Oh no, Babulya, this is a pair of shorts!" Gwen rose and spun for her babulya. "It's a skort!" "Alright, dear." Her grandmother chuckled. "I guess we should both go to bed. Can you think about what I've said?" "I will." Gwen leaned in and kissed her cheeks. "Oh yeah, I also have a gift for you from me and Uncle Jun." She produced ten jars of Wildland Honey straight from the hive and a Beggar's Chicken still in its clay casing. "This is for you. The chook is from a while ago, from my and Pat's favourite joint on University Rd!" Her grandmother opened a jar and dipped a finger into the honey. She savoured the taste of life force contained therein. "Thank you; this is a wondrous gift." "You're going to get younger and younger, Babulya. We'll be seeing each other and having luncheons for EONS," Gwen declared, her voice broken on the last few syllables. "Soon, aunty Nen will wonder when she had a sister!" The two women chuckled, each pregnant with their private thoughts. "Good night, Gwen." "G'nite, Babulya." Her grandmother left. Gwen made for the guest rooms, where she and her uncle had stayed. To her dismay, she was alone. Her uncle was staying in the west wing, together with the family, while Gwen—the black sheep of the Song Clan, was accommodated in the south side. Other guests were also staying when she returned, but as it was well past midnight, they were already behind closed doors. Her double room felt larger without Jun; the bleak 17th-century architecture felt far older and more dilapidated now that whitewashed walls were her only companion. There wasn't even an ensuite in the outdated design of the guest room, and she was no longer in possession of Hai's gift of underpants. Feeling bloated with thoughts of separation and mortality, she resolved to change out of her clothes and wipe herself down with a damp cloth. She switched to a pair of cotton shorts and singlet, then slipped into the soft silk covers of the single bed, the only 21st-century amenity within the room. "Ariel?" The marten appeared beside her, still asleep, gently snoring as it digested the cores. She hugged her Familiar against her chest, buried her face into its fur, and rested her mind against the darkness. Ayxin sat in her section of the White-Jade Palace, pondering the possibilities associated with the attire held out before her. It was an anthropomorphic image of a cat. There were two small love hearts, one pink and the other scarlet, on its left and right. At the bottom, just above the navel, was printed in carmine the nonsensical words "Hello Kitty". She sighed, feeling like a set of mystical manacles held her captive. Her heart, not to mention her Core, had pounded at her ribcage when her father offered her life to the Ash Bringer. Reaching into a pocket space she had created to mimic the effect of the human's Storage Rings, she produced the makeup kit that Jun's niece had given her. Within the self-contained box was a cheap mirror, beneath which were three brushes, one large and two small, a tube of something called 'mascara', and a palette of mineral powders. Ayxin recalled that Gwen had _made up_ a face, thinking she would be granted an audience with her father. How foolish these humans were, inefficient and lacklustre, that they had to use such mortal substances to _make up_ for what the heavens did not gift them. Ayxin looked into the mirror, examining her not-entirely-human face. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. She blinked. Her eyes took on the thick outline Gwen had painstakingly drawn over a minute, not daring to move or achoo. The effect was… interesting Her sky-coloured pupils became more pronounced. The winged tips and deep eye shadow reminded her of the mountain cats they had in the lower reaches. Did this mean Humans were attracted to felines? If so, what did they think about Demi-human Leonines? She blinked again, cycling through the colours. Ayxin chuckled to herself, making her lashes longer, thicker, curlier—until her face became ridiculous. "Ayxin?" Golo's grunt sounded behind her. The makeup kit snapped shut and disappeared into the pocket space. She turned angrily to regard her unannounced visitor. "Father's teeth! Did Ryxi assault you?! I wouldn't have thought he had the gall!" The Wyvern visibly shivered. Golos was likewise in his human form. Prophetically, their father had instructed herself and Golos to exercise their humanoid appearances; as usual, neither of the siblings questioned the Yinglong's wisdom. Her brother pointed his forefinger at her bruised, black-purple eye sockets. "Your eyes, they loo—" “I said I AM FINE, Golos!” "Alright…" "Why are you here?" "Thought I'd say goodbye. Father says I will be leaving for Mandalay. For now, I am to search out Ruxin." "I see." "When are you leaving?" "Leaving?" Ayxin raised a ridged brow. Golos snorted. In his human form, the Thunder Wyvern resembled a barrel-chested and long-limbed bouncer with a tremendous silvery beard across wide square jaws and a butt chin. His eyes, poorly formed by inexperience in changing his morphic field, remained reptilian and alien, with a high bone ridge where a bushy brow should be, running up either side of his temples until they formed a secondary ridge down the back of his skull. "Why would I leave the Mount?" Ayxin's eyes narrowed. Golos glanced at the shirt with the kitten. Ayxin snatched it from the marble table and stowed it away. She was the only one who could access her pocket dimensions. Not even their father could pry when Ayxin desired privacy. "You're not very honest," Golos snorted. "You in heat?" "How's your anus, Golos?" Golos growled. "I thought as much. Get out." She watched as Golos swaggered elsewhere. Her half-sibling would have been more convincing if he had not suffered nightmares since that day. She had even heard that he'd stopped harassing creatures in his domain. With the bullish buffoon sent away, Ayxin re-materialised the Hello Kitty T-shirt, then ran a hand over the cotton fabric. The turmoil she felt was painful to put into words, even Draconic ones. The Ash Bringer was a mere Human; his race was short-lived and transient. Yet, listening to the man extolling his faith in his _niece,_ the _Calamity_ foretold by her fathers prophesy, she felt… _longing_. That and resentment, confusion and discontentment; she couldn't understand why a mere mortal girl, especially one so calamitous to those close to her, could receive such devotion and care from her kin while she sat alone, loitering in a cold palace as her father slumbered, Ryxi pruned trees, with Golos rubbing ointments into his swollen nether regions. Dragons were covetous beings, and Ayxin was just as much a benefactor of their bloodline's blessing as a victim of its curse. What the girl possessed—she would have as well. Not to embrace her inferior human side—Ayxin excused her mental weakness—but a girl wants what a girl wants. Much less a _Winged Dragon._ Gwen awoke to the sound of commotion from outside her room. The walls were wood and clay, while the windows were transmuted glass made to look like paper parchment. Neither provided a solid barrier against noise. Rubbing her eyes, she opened the double doors to see what the uproar was about. An NoM servant holding a mug of hot tea choked on his shallot pancake as Gwen emerged barefoot in her singlet and cotton shorts. The entire courtyard of the South Wing was a hive of activity, and from the racket, it was evident that decorative renovations were happening. NoMs were applying fresh stains to everything that could be seen, especially the faded red pillars. All around her, workmen and lesser Mages were lifting plaques and installing giant red "DOUBLE LUCKY" pictograms hung upside down on every visible window and door. Gifting the servants and workers another thirty seconds of eye candy, Gwen shut the door and wondered why no one had come to wake her. She checked her device and saw that it was nine AM. Tossing on a tunic, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. "Where's everyone gone?" she asked one of the scurrying servants from the window slit. "The family is taking breakfast in the east wing, main hall." "Gotcha." She threw on a halter-neck maxi and strapped in her wedge sandals, then followed the maid through the winding corridors until they reached the scene of a breakfast banquet. The family, both the Songs and the Lius, were already eating. She bowed before finding her seat at the table, intuitively seating herself beside Jun. Breakfast consisted of fried dough and six-treasure porridge, a local speciality made from Wildland nuts and fruits, combined with the famous Jiangnan rice to form a thick gruel that warmed the stomach and filled the body with energy. "Uncle." Gwen waited for a servant to fill her bowl. "Gwen, how was your sleep?" "Well enough," she replied sweetly. "Good." Jun sipped his congee. The military man worked at the gruel, savouring every mouthful before placing the bowl conclusively onto the table. "I need to head back to the base for a week. Hai has requested that you stay here to help with the wedding. I'll be back first thing on Sunday." "No buck's party?" "No, thank Mao." Jun shot a glance at Guo and Patriarch Liu. There was Qīn next to her father as well. "I don't think either of those three would have wanted to see Hai in that condition." Gwen chuckled uncomfortably as well. Did Mage-world Shanghai even have strippers? Knowing the precarious status of NoMs in this world, Gwen had no desire to witness the debasement of women whose only worth was a pretty face. Was her father even capable of enduring a hands-free lap dance? But maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. Surely no one could blame the Song family if Hai sabotaged his wedding? Nonetheless, the dismissal of the Buck's Party was agreeable to Gwen. "I am going to miss you, Uncle Jun," she muttered despairingly. With Jun gone, she would be left with only babulya, but her grandmother's affections weren't Gwen's alone. "I'll be back as soon as possible," Jun announced. "I promise." Gwen wanted to reply, but a cat had stolen her tongue and ran off with it into the bush, where a saltwater croc ate it. "There, there." Jun patted her shoulder clumsily, awkward in his public affection. Her uncle's fatherliness proved too much for Gwen. Not even the shame of her thirty-year-old self could dispel the welling emotions ripping apart her chest like a Xenomorph. She turned and hugged him, wrapping her arms around Jun's waist, then kissed him on the cheeks. From across the table, Hai stared at Jun, his expression one of disbelief. In her uncle's arms, Gwen guiltily grinned. "She's very close to your brother," Qīn remarked to her husband-to-be once they were in the privacy of the east wing. Many invitations were awaiting the penning of personal greetings. "I'll say." Hai licked his parched lips. His heavy-hanging eye bags indicated a shortage of restful sleep. "You don't suppose Gwen has—?" Hai raised a brow. "grown fonder of her Uncle than you?" "Well, I wouldn't know about that," Hai grumbled defensively, scratching his nose. "She's growing up with or without you, Hai," his lover advised with great sagacity. "I am worried your rare flower might be plucked by some vagabond or a scoundrel from the horrors. You, of all people, should know how bad it gets in Shanghai, dear." "Gwen's capable of taking care of herself," Hai muttered, thinking of the time he flew into Rosebay to save her, only to see her brutally massacring her assailant, some gloop-creature constituted of black slime, all the while in her birthday suit. It was the unfortunate young men of Hangzhou who should be afraid. "Don't fret. Gwen will have plenty of options," Qīn advised her husband. "I've got an impressive line-up of eligible bachelors for her to browse over at her leisure, not to mention her groomsmen is one in a million." "Look, I don't think this is the best idea." "I've got it taken care of." Qīn kissed his collarbone, massaging him with soothing motes of positive mana. Hai could hardly tear himself away from his fiancèe's almond eyes. Here was a woman who was madly and deeply in love. What if Qīn could find a partner for Gwen, just as she had discovered him? Gwen couldn't fault her father for thinking of her happiness, surely? Jun left as soon as breakfast wrapped up, disappearing out the door before the warmth of his hands on her back had even faded. What remained were duties for every member of the family. As the wedding was undertaken on short notice, many of the elderly members of the Liu Clan would visit friends and family with gifts and invitations. Secretary Liu himself would be visiting his associates as well, leaving the running of the Reception to Qīn. As Qīn's mother was unfortunately deceased, Hai's parents, older than her father by a decade, would double-duty as her elders, receiving guests as they arrived over the next few days. Babulya was right; the ordeal was a vortex of 'Guanxi' - an undertow of filial and political ties that sucked the Songs into its depth, willing or otherwise. When it came to Gwen, her grandfather came through as promised. A fierce "Gwen will out of the way" was enough to prevent Qīn from further employing Gwen's time. She had only one job that required her presence—get fitted for her bridesmaid's dress. It was a position she was more than happy to occupy. "Go enjoy yourself around the city, see the sights. Go for a boat tour around the West Lake," her father informed her. "You just came back from a gruelling trip. Unwind. I can see you were very tense yesterday." _Then where the fuck were you yesterday?_ Gwen suppressed the words hammering at her lips. She was surprised no one had mentioned the koi, least of all her father. Poor koi. "Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it." As Jun had done so, Hai reached out for a hug, but Gwen shirked away, leaving her father hanging. "I'll go see about this dress, then." "I'll send Ah-Bei with you," Qīn chimed in. Her siren's voice possessed a husky timbre mellow enough to melt the bones of any man. It was the sort of hyper-femininity Gwen could never affect, even if she tried. "He knows the city like the back of his hand." "Thanks, Aunty Qīn." Gwen dipped her head. "'Mama' will suffice, or Nīang, as we say in the Wu dialect," Qīn annunciated expertly, biting the assonance. _You're my age and look like you're in your twenties!_ Gwen screamed internally. I'll call you mother over my father's dead body. "Thank you, _Aunty_." Gwen held her tongue. The two women smiled at each other warmly. Her father looked at his goosebumps. "Is it cold in here or what? It's hot as ever today..." A servant presented himself in front of Gwen, bowing deeply. It was the same man Gwen had seen on their first meeting with Qīn. "I am Liang Bei." The man dipped his head. Bei had the bearing of a man who awoke tired. "At your pleasure, Mistress Song." Gwen shook the man's hand. The act surprised both Bei and Qīn. It wasn't just a touch, a gesture from a superior to encourage a subordinate. It was a proper-greeting, palm to palm, applied with force and intent. "Good to meet you, Bei. I'll be in your hands." Bei bowed a little deeper. "Father, I am off." "Stay out of trouble, Gwen." "You know I won't!" Then she was gone. Bei commandeered a vehicle from the underground garage, playing guide and chauffeur. Once inside, Gwen changed her heels for pumps. If she was going to take FIVE days off from 'life' and 'stay out of trouble', she wanted to shop, jog, and experience the 'heavenly' sights around Hangzhou. First stop, the dressmakers. "Hangzhou is one of the best places in the world for Wildland-silk, Mistress," Bei advised her. "We will go to the city's largest silk market, Fengqi Road No. 273. It is a very expensive locale! Even mundane dresses cost thousands to tens of thousands of RMB. If you wish to purchase Wildland Silks, the vendors only accept HDMs." "How expensive are we talking about?" Gwen packed her slippers, slipping a foot into the sky-blue pumps she'd acquired in Shanghai. It was too bad there was no Instagram. She would have had an entirely different career path if she had been in her seventeen-year-old body with unlimited fashion funds in her old world. "The vendors will try to rip you off, Mistress, because you are a foreigner and a Mage from another city, not to mention a young girl. Sometimes, the greedy merchants ask for many times the value or even sell you fake products!" "Then why are we going there?" Gwen asked quizzically. "Because they need the Secretary's support to continue their business," Bei informed her, his cracked lips curling on either side. "Mistress has said to spare no expense on your bridesmaid dress, so long as it is appropriate. Her only request is that you purchase in a particular shade of cream. I have the sample fabric right here." Gwen examined the slip, rubbing the fabric between her hands. It was smooth beyond belief, gliding between her thumb and forefinger without friction. The silk was the real deal, a fabric that felt like cold water. "Very nice." The stimuli made her recall Ayxin, whose entire garb had been mythical gossamer. At the thought of the dragon-woman, her Divination Sigil tingled. Without formal training, her Sigil was less definitive than her daily horoscopes, not that Gwen needed premonition to know that the woman was bad news. "Hmm..." The vision of an anxious face engendered in her mind. Didn't she have a Diviner on a lifeline? She dialled Mayuree. "Mia! It's me, Gwen!" "Gwen! Oh, thank the Goddess, YOU'RE BACK!" "My favourite Diviner! How're things?" She asked. "I honestly don't know; I haven't left the house for a week." Mayuree was entirely serious. "Really?" "Yes, I'm serious. What do you think? You have no idea how happy I am to hear from you. Are you back?" "Sorry, not yet," Gwen apologised. "Next time, we'll go Adventuring together." "You bet," Mayuree answered sweetly. "So, are you close? Are you within reach of a tier 7 Teleportation scroll?" "Er… I am in Hangzhou." "Oh." "My father's getting married," Gwen took a moment to explain her situation to her Diviner companion. "I was wondering if you could do an Augury for me. I want to know if the wedding will be a shit show." "Gwen, that's terrible!" Mayuree replied, scandalised by Gwen's shocking proclamation. In response, Gwen detailed the context for her paranoia, then further explained that she had 'accidentally' killed the bride's prized koi. "Oh, Gwennie~." Gwen could almost see her friend scowling, clenching her jaws adorably as she grimaced. "Alright, give me a few moments." The Message disconnected while Gwen waited. "Mistress, we're here," Bei informed her. Indeed, the car was stationary. "Bei, where are you from?" she asked. "Me?" Bei seemed surprised. "Yeah, you've known the Liu family for long?" "All my life, Mistress." The two made small talk. According to the manservant, Bei's family had served Qīn's for as long as he could recall. _Ding!_ Ten minutes later, her Message Device pinged. "Mia?" "Hi, I am back." "So, how is it?" "… it's hard to say." "How hard to say, exactly," Gwen replied, disappointed. "Well, according to my Augury, there will be Weal and Woe on the wedding day." "That's to be expected, I suppose." "So I tried a higher-order Divination and sought specific outcomes. Do you want to hear them? _Do you recall what happened to me?_ " Mayuree's rhetorical question reminded Gwen of what the Diviner had said: knowing your future was like hammering the final nail in your coffin. "Do you think I should know?" "NO," Mayuree answered honestly. Gwen relented. "Okay, I'll deal with it myself." "Phew, hahaha, I wasn't going to tell you anyway." Mayuree's voice was relieved. "Thanks for looking out for me, Mia." "So when are you expecting to be back?" "Six, seven days at worst?" "Alright." Mayuree's tone relaxed, which informed Gwen more than she had desired to know. If she were going to be in danger, Mayuree wouldn't just sit on her hands and tell her to relax. "See you then. I can send a car to pick you up from Hangzhou if you don't have a ride back to Fudan." "That's good to know." Indeed, if she had to be cooped up in a van with Guo and Percy, Lord knows what would happen if she started leaking Dragon Fear. The link broke off. "Bei? I am done." To her embarrassment, her patient manservant was already waiting beside the passenger door. "Alright," Gwen spoke to no one in particular. "Let's see about this dress."

Hangzhou. Once the Dragon Mage passed the dragon-pine, she began to feel the oppressive resonance of Humanity's Shielding Stones pounding at her chest. Her core hummed unpleasantly, hinting at the violent end that awaited Ayxin should she persist in approaching the city. So this was the infamous Shielding magic employed by the humans to keep out Demi-humans and Magical Monsters, she scoffed, displeased by the sensation. The strange frequency disrupted the flow of elemental mana within her body, giving her an impression akin to being underwater. Ayxin circulated her spatial magic until the throbbing in her chest ceased. Her progenitor was truly all-seeing and all-knowing. Humanity's 'Shield' was beyond Ayxin's archaic knowledge of Human Spellcraft. But as coincidence two centuries in the making would have it, she was uniquely equipped to negate its effects. Was that why her father had not stopped her from performing her fool's errand? The resonance was a form of highly-attuned spatial-Abjuration magic, and Ayxin possessed the talent to defuse its disruptive foci. She felt a strange thrill, knowing that Ruxin, Golos, and even her father could be stopped once enough Shields overlapped. With a few careful incantations, she tied off the elaborate Enchantment mandala encircling her core on all six sides. The full force of her Draconic powers would be suppressed until she released the seal, but what prowess remained was sufficient for uprooting a small township. As for her appearance, Ayxin conveniently assumed Jun's niece's skinny form. For one, because she had meticulously studied the girl while she bathed, trying to fathom the Ash Bringer's preferences, and the other was that they shared a minute resonance thanks to the girl utilising Ayxin's scale to temper her Draconic Essence. Though Gwen's likeness proved no obstacle, some physical elements remained immutable, such as Ayxin's sky-blue eyes and a certain air of androgyny. Then there was a more pragmatic reason. The only modern attire Ayxin possessed was the one the niece had gifted her. That and the "Hello Kitty" tunic, an item she dared not risk on an uncertain, covert journey. Thus attired as Gwen's simulacrum, clad in wedge heels and a white tunic-sundress, Ayxin-Gwen approached the way-station which marked the boundary into Hangzhou. Once inside the city, her scale would guide her to Gwen and, as such, Jun. In her pocket dimension, she had brought several treasures desirable to Humans and the old documentation she had imprinted in blood with the Human regime. The problem was she had no idea if the same _regime_ still ruled the Human world. If she were wrong, she would have to negotiate with the Humans' cumbersome bureaucracy. If she was right, the contract compelled the regime to at least heed her request. Unless she were to wipe out a human settlement, there was no reason to anger the direct descendent of the Ying Long. Having thus mused between presenting herself in an officious or private capacity, Ayxin chose the latter. She was here to see about a man, not to cause an incident. She wondered if it was possible to demand Jun Song from the city's rulers, though that may well sour her relationship with the Ash Bringer. Empathically, if the Yinglong had offered Ayxin, his beloved _vessel_ , to another Dragon, she would likely fight the snake spawn. Therefore, she had to take matters into her own clawed hands. "Halt!" The border guards, two frail-looking humans with barely detectable innate mana, stared at her with disbelief, wondering why there was a pale-skinned gweilo girl in a sundress in the middle of a Purple Zone. "Isn't that Miss Song, the one travelling with the Ash Bringer?" "Didn't she pass by two days ago?" "Maybe she went out on her own again?" "She doesn't look like she's dressed for Questing, though." "Don't look at me." The first shrugged. "I am not in the business of presuming what our betters do for fun. Straighten up, Corporal, here she comes!" The girl strolled toward them, struggling to balance on her shoes. "Here are my documents." Ayxin's eyes glowed with the subtle light of Enchantment, her tongue delivering a Draconic incantation as she held their gaze captive. "Everything's in order, Ma'am." The first guard nodded at the handkerchief she had handed him. "It's a long way from here to the city if you're going on foot." "I'll fly," Ayxin cooly replied. The second guard saluted the companion of the Hero of the North. "Where can I find the Ash Bringer?" she demanded, her voice empowered with old magic as a persistent Suggestion. "The Liu Manor, Ma'am. The word from the top says that the Secretary is finally marrying off his daughter. The groom is Captain Song's brother. Lots of the brass will be attending, as well as the prominent local families." "Where is this Manor?" "West Lake, Western quarter, Ma'am. It's the largest complex there." "Thank you, Corporal Du." "At your service, Ma'am!" "I wasn't here, and you saw nothing." "Yes, Ma'am, we saw nothing." A few minutes later, Corporal Du turned to his companion. "Qe, do you remember Captain Song's companion?" "The gweilo girl? Who could forget." Qe appreciatively chuckled. "She was a real looker, eh?" "She was." Du smacked his lips. "I was just thinking of her." "Why?" "Don't know," replied Qe. "Feeling lonely?" "You're not thinking of cheating on the old missus, are you?" "Naw, Miss Song's the proverbial goldfish, you can look, but you can't touch!" "What does that make your old woman then?" "A salted carp!" The two laughed mirthfully. "That's a good one, comrade. Ah—slow day, eh?" "Every day is a slow day out here, Qe." Du snorted. "We're out in the woods, Comrade. Nothing ever happens here, Purple Zone or otherwise." "Thank Mao!" Qe glanced at the guard tower, where a superior officer might be watching but was far more likely napping or watching Vid-casts. If a Dragon-kin like that blasted wyvern breached the border, all they could do was immediately report the threat. It was the local garrison's job to take care of the trouble. They were just an isolated watchtower. "We should be so lucky, eh?" Far from the outpost, Ayxin flew, her voluminous hair billowing behind her shoulders. The torturous shoes the girl had gifted her required more concentration to muster than the magic she had used to confound the soldiers. Also, the unergonomic angle of the heels grated on her ankles and the peep-toe tip made her pink appendages arch uncomfortably, forcing her off-balance. Once the Dragon-Mage was away from the checkpoint, she lifted herself into the air, freeing the weight on the ball of her foot. Upon reaching a suitable height, Ayxin accelerated, making for Hangzhou city. If she flew at a low altitude to avoid detection, the journey would take several hours. Ayxin contemplatively hefted a handful of crystals in her hand. She had about a hundred LDMs and a dozen HDMs. Her cache of Human currency was solicited from a man who had accosted her, complimented her on her physical beauty, and then offered to take her to see the Ash Bringer. Ruminating profoundly, she attempted to trace the last few hours of chaos. When she arrived at the city's outskirts at night, she became immediately disorientated by the horrendous butchery the Humans had executed upon the once natural landscape. In her memory, Hangzhou was a beautiful city of rivers and estuaries, seated in a floodplain, surrounded by an extensive network of walls that shielded its population from Wildland Magical Beasts. Instead, Ayxin became mortified by the sight of a human city stretching from horizon to horizon, utterly obfuscating every natural landmark, sprawled across every conceivable space, stripping out all but small tuffs of greenery from the once verdant land. Then there was the mana miasma. She had taken a lungful of it as soon as she reached the city proper, and the thickness of the spent mana fog almost sent her tumbling from the sky. These Humans—they were a parasite! A blight upon the world! She couldn't even tell where _West Lake_ was! A concrete jungle so tightly packed stretched out in front of Ayxin that it was impossible to discern where one township ended and another began. It was as though the city centre was a fat, fleshy spider perched on the floodplain, while all around it, silk threads in the form of highways burst like an erupted cocoon across the once virgin land. She felt stricken by unbidden nausea, unsure if it was because of the smoggy pollutants in the air or if the reality of Humanity's usurpation exceeded her wildest nightmares. As primordial beings, Dragons are given life by the Prime Material Plane. As a race, they were especially sensitive to the changes in an area's elemental composition. No wonder humans had such short life spans! If she could persuade Jun to leave the human city, there would be hope for the Ash Mage. Lost and heady with sickness, she alighted somewhere discrete, then made for the town centre, wondering if someone could know where the Ash Bringer was. And that was when she met the man who deceived her. "Of course, I know him! He's famous!" the man had announced boisterously. "Right this way, Miss, I'll give you a ride straight to his house by the West Lake." The liar was an ugly man, apish and small; not unlike the Canhu monkey-men who inhabited Huangshan, only this one was wearing a suit. He directed her to a vehicle, one that, to Ayxin, looked to be in bad shape. Two other young men were in the large cargo vehicle with him; both appeared shocked that their companion had not only returned but had brought Ayxin with him. The men said nothing while the monkey-man drove, their faces remaining incredulous as they wantonly gazed at Ayxin. Skimming their minds, Ayxin affirmed that Gwen Song possessed very desirable physical traits, as she could taste the lust oozing from the men's brains. After some time, the vehicle stopped. Then the men told her that they were not going to West Lake. The bold proclamation confused Ayxin, who could hardly fathom why these apish, low-life existences would deceive her. It was as ridiculous as a Merfolk offering Golos its young, only to pass it off as a joke when the Thunder Wyvern arrived, hungry and anticipating a fulfilling meal. "Are you saying that you do not know the whereabouts of The Ash Bringer?" Ayxin asked, her voice raising an octave. "Bitch, are you slow?" The men laughed at her. Ayxin laughed as well. The situation was novel indeed! It was a refreshing experience to interact with these strange and mortal creatures in such a manner. The Dragon was rapidly learning about the duplicitous nature of Man. It was odd because when she resided among the Humans some two centuries ago, they came only in two types—dangerous or grovelling. "Maybe she _is_ slow…" one of the others commented. "You are wrong," Ayxin informed the liar's companion. "I can be very fast if I want to." The men grinned at each other. One of them reached out to touch her thighs. To prove her earlier point, Ayxin reached out simultaneously. She was faster—much faster. “Wha—ARRRGHH EEEEERAARRR!” She plucked out the man's eyeballs, using Gwen's thin fingers as hooks, then tossed them at the screamer's wide-eyed companion, who juggled the orbs comically in abject horror. The monkey man who'd led her here must have been uncannily intelligent because he kicked open the vehicle door and immediately fled. " _Pok_!" she spat from her soft lips; the Draconic was less effective because the fleshy flaps of her human mouth impeded her enunciation. The man froze, his face a mask of agony as every muscle obeyed Ayxin's command. The remaining Human attempted to stab her with a metallic implement. Her flesh proved impervious, but Gwen's dress was less study than Ayxin's Draconic body. "What… are you?" The man's eyes widened, finally realising that they were not dealing with a breathtakingly beautiful simpleton who had wandered into the wrong part of town. "Take me to the Ash Bringer," Ayxin instilled a little Dragon Fear into her voice. The man's eyes bulged, then made a gagging sound before hurling his last meal over the floor. Ayxin watched the yellow fluid splatter onto her shoes. A vein beneath the dermis of her temple throbbed. Now she knew she had indeed been deceived. Her Draconic Mind-Magic couldn't compel a victim to confess that which they did not know. "Don't kill me!" the man begged. "We'll give you everything we have! All the money and crystals we've got on us!" A Dragon never said no to crystals. The blinded man continued to wail even as his companion searched him. The monkey man, held by command, was more compliant. Ayxin was expediently presented with an assortment of paper and crystals. She tossed the paper bills and kept the crystals. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. With a casual backhand, she knocked the man who had vomited on her across the forehead, sinking his face into the glass pane of the vehicle. As for the liar hung by her incantation outside, she broke both of his legs with a swift kick, crumpling the man like paper. Her final assailant responded by throwing himself into a passionate and bloody series of kowtows that polluted the pavement. Such _frail_ beings, these Humans, Ayxin mused. There was no sport in killing them. Leaving the men, Ayxin tried to orientate herself to no avail. The mana haze was too thick, and the elements would not heed her call. Short of wiping the Human blight from the earth, she would have to navigate as the mortals did. When she emerged from the alleyway, another male immediately accosted her. This older man professed to be the proprietor of an eatery, the front of which she now occupied, drawing an audience. "Mao! What happened to you?" The man had been so surprised upon seeing her cut dress that his cigarette fell from his lips. "I am fine, Sir," Ayxin replied. "I am looking for the Ash Bringer; if you could point me in the right direction, I shall reward you." "The who and what?" The old man regarded her critically. "You feeling alright, Miss?" "Jun Song, the Ash Bringer," she repeated herself. "I need to find him." "Why are you looking for the Hero of the North?" Ayxin considered the man's question carefully. She was in Gwen's form, so saying that she was looking for her future mate would be grossly unfair and somewhat off-putting. Dragons could be incestuous, but she was Human, for now. "He is my Uncle," Ayxin noted as a matter of factly. The old man raised an eyebrow, showing no indication that he believed her. "You can't walk around here like that. It's not safe. Hooligans and hoodlums are all over the place. The PLA doesn't give a shit about the Districts." "Please point me in the right direction. I am not afraid of bandits and brigands. I lack currency." "I don't think they'll want your money, Miss." "That is acceptable. I would like theirs." An awkward silence passed. "Look, at least come in and clean yourself." "Not necessary, old Sir, though I thank you for offering it." The Human snorted derisively at her dismissal, shaking his head. _"Nartok!"_ A burst of elemental water erupted from thin air, enveloping her body and soaking the dress. The old man's eyes grew as large as a hen's eggs. Though the elements were rarified in the NoM District, she could still summon magic through the gate within her body. It took a minute for the Water Elementals to finish their task, leaving her dress, face and hair spotless and dry. By then, a small crowd had gathered. "Mao! Why didn't you say you're Mage?! A Water Mage at that? Sorry for asking." The old man seemed to Ayxin to be uncharacteristically offended. There was a scent of fear that now circulated his body. The man turned to leave. "Do you know where the Ash Bringer is?" Ayxin intoned, forcing the old man to answer her against his will. The man's eyes glazed over. "No, why would I know that? He's a national hero. They don't come to NoM Districts. Try the West Lake. That's where all the Mages live." West Lake. Where in this light-polluted cesspool of human habitation was West Lake? Should she, perhaps, perform an aerial survey? But suppose she glaringly flew through the city. In that case, she may immediately give herself away, ruining the surprise of her future meeting with Jun and informing the local authorities that they had an esteemed guest that required immediate chaperoning. In the worst case, the ruler may expel her before she can attend this 'wedding'. Luckily, a crowd of humans was here at her beck and call. "You people," she edged her voice with an irresistible will. "Show me the way to West Lake." "THIS WAY!" A crowd of humans stood to attention. Immediately, they began to walk in different directions, each supremely confident in their knowledge of where 'West Lake' may be. Ayxin stood stunned, staring at the dispersing crowd. _What… in her progenitor's name… is wrong with these humans?!_ Ayxin hadn't slept for two, maybe three days. Dragons cultivate by sleeping. The more one slept, the more their natural prowess grew. With their limited lifespans, humans lived every day as though it was their last moment on the Material Plane. At least, that was the impression Ayxin got when observing those she _enlisted_ to aid her progress. The motes of mana from the Planes grew thinner the deeper she ventured into the human territory, meaning she had to find sustenance in more mortal forms. When she got hungry, she ate, asking vendors and passersby for food, spending all her crystals. Later, the humans became upset when she could not front up the necessary currency. Thirst was easier. There were plenty of estuaries with clear water for Ayxin to wander into and slake her thirst. Her actions always drew an audience, which Ayxin found humorous, noting with irony that the humans themselves were constitutionally too weak to enjoy the bounty of nature. Her haughty practice lasted until she saw a child urinate into the river. The crowd gathered around the strangely beautiful girl drinking from the stream almost simultaneously pissed and shat themselves when Ayxin endured a regret never before felt in her two centuries of life. She then tried summoning fresh water directly from the Elemental Plane, but the water was likewise polluted by whatever the city was pumping back into the Plane. After several such occurrences, she acquired bottles of purified water. By the second day, Ayxin had lost count of how many times these humans had tried to deceive her, lure her to strange places, and misdirect her quest. Inevitably, she left them broken and abandoned somewhere. How quickly has human society changed in only two centuries? Ayxin reflected in dismay. When she was a child, she had never seen the outside world. She had only been taken from the interior courtyard and onto the streets when she left the household and made her journey to Huangshan. As she passed, elevated upon an elaborate palanquin, the peasants dropped to their knees in worship of Ayxin's Daoshi entourage. After six days, her escorts had left her at the threshold of the Hundred-Thousand Terrace. That salient memory of lowered heads and stooped shoulders had thus shaped her idea of Humanity. Even when the emissary from the humans came to see her father some five decades ago, they had lowered their heads and spoken in soft, polite tones. None dared to meet her eyes, much less demand anything of her. Of course, Ayxin knew she was borrowing her father's terror, but her prejudice remained. Yet here, everyone glanced at her, stared at her, and watched her every move without fear. People came up to her to ask questions, followed her, and even offered her food and printed images on sheets of paper! One daring male even offered her crystal currency, blurting out that he wished to mate with her! Of course, she wasn't in her Draconic form. But still, Ayxin was both thrilled and disgusted. How bold the Human race had become! She could feel the avarice and greed drooling from their psyche like a palpable slick. Was this what her father was afraid of, that the Humans were a greedy, gluttonous parasitic existence that consumed all matter within reach of their grubby digits? When she finally reached West Lake, she felt like a year had passed, not three days. She appeared to be in a reserved area, thankfully cleared of the debris-like buildings the Humans used for habitation. Here, the resonance of the Shielding Crystal was strongest, hinting at the presence of the central station somewhere within the middle of the lake. However, the mana within the region was purer, allowing her to rest. To the casual passerby fascinated by the exhibition, a gweilo girl had arrived at the Municipal Park, found a bench, sprawled herself on top of the stone surface, and promptly fell asleep. "Hey, cutie, you looking for a place to sleep? How come you're not jogging today?" Ayxin opened her eyes. She was surrounded by Humans, about a dozen of them. "I didn't think you were a local but, damn, who'd thought you were homeless? You need someone to take care of you." The speaker was a Human male. She must have slept for a whole day, judging from the pale light of the risen moon. Rubbing her eyes to clear the mucus, she found that twelve hours of rest was not near-sufficient to dispel the mental fatigue she felt. Elemental mana here was too thin, too displaced from the Planes to cultivate. She had been tempted to surround herself with the densely packed crystals the Humans used for currency, but she knew well enough not to entice trouble. But what was this circle of young men, and a few women, doing standing beside her? The smell of sex was rank as her gaze swept her observers. Several of them were in heat, both the males and the females, though the heaviest stink was the acrid stench of yellow-bellied fear. They reminded Ayxin of the scavengers on the mount, especially the crows. When the birds found an abandoned young animal, they would peck out their victim's eyes, then wait for the panicking sufferer to tire. Fear of what? If they were afraid of Ayxin, they would not have accosted her like this. She traced their eyes until their line of sight converge on the speaker, who looked to be in his late twenties. The man had the bearing of an alpha male—broad-chested, well-muscled, confident, possessing a cruel, crow-like glint in the recess of his small, beady eyes. Ayxin recognised the bearing; the man was an opportunistic hunter. "I was resting until you disturbed me," Ayxin stated the facts. "Go away." "You don't have to sleep here." The young man grinned with an opaque expression of dangerous arousal. "I'll give you a place to stay, a warm bed and food. You'll never be cold or hungry again." It must be because of the restrained virility of the human reproductive systems, Ayxin thought as she moved one pale leg after another from the stone bench, brushing the dust from her dress. Self-preservation, procreation, and currency seemed to be the modus operandi driving these Humans, a triplicate of natural inclinations which Ayxin, as a Dragon-kin, empathised with perfectly. Still, the desperate display was pitiful. This particular Human's appetite was far more substantial than his ability and worth as an existence. A snake with an appetite for dragons. Then, to her surprise, the man reached out and touched her in an overly friendly manner. Not only that, he took her by the arm. She stared at the fleshy appendage attaching to her limb, frowning unpleasantly. With a word, she could strip the flesh from the man's bones or command his minions to tear him to pieces with their teeth. But Ayxin would give the man a chance to redeem himself. She wasn't bloodthirsty like Ruxin or Golos; she was a pacifist. "Do you know where the Ash Bringer is?" she demanded of the young man, throwing him a lifeline even as he stared at her chest. The question seemed to catch the Human youths off guard. They laughed at her before the young man answered. "I know where the man will be," the young man seemed puzzled by her fearless naivety and perplexing response. "He'll be at Liu's wedding this Sunday. It'll be the biggest event this year. His brother is marrying the only daughter of the Clan. We're family friends. Why? Are you a fan?" "I am not a fan." Ayxin pondered what her next course of action should be. "I am a Human, like you. You are not an astute observer." "Er..." The young man seemed less confident in his interest now. "I am hungry." Ayxin carefully removed the young man's hand, cautiously to avoid breaking something off by accident. She still needed him if what he said was true. "Bring me some food." Ayxin announced her desire, and her observers felt a sudden urge to bring her sustenance. It was as though her voice filled every nook and cranny of their brain. "Of course!" "What would you like?" "We can get take out." "No! We go to Papa Lau's." "To the Hyatt! Full banquet!" However, the young man who had touched her seemed unaffected by her Suggestion. A small, barely visible halo faded from his head, and then her assailant stepped back, his face ashen. "You're an M-Mind Mage!" he uttered, tongue-tied and stuttering. "Everyone! G—" “ _Munthrek! Tyrtrol ve!_ ” Something around the young man's neck shattered, barely audible and invisible underneath his shirt. The young man fell to his knees and performed a kowtow. "I, Chen Pao, am at your command, Mistress." His friends ceased their banter, stared at their leader and broke into hilarious laughter. Their voices were silenced when the young man kissed Ayxin's feet without an ounce of unwillingness. "I desire nourishment," Ayxin commanded her newly Dominated peon. "Right this way." Pao stood, bowed, and then opened a path for Ayxin. He turned to the rest of his companions. "The rest of you! Follow the Mistress! We are going to Louwailou! Jo, Message ahead and tell them I need a private chamber overlooking the water. Full banquet, spare no expense!" The crew looked at each other. " _Wiilirk!_ " Ayxin injected Pao's followers with a jolt of motivation. She was feeling peckish. "Let's go!" "I know the manager there!" "Full Banquet!" "Beggar Chicken!" "I'll go ahead and prepare!" "Ah-Xi, bring the car. I am taking the Mistress down to Louwailou," Pao informed his house servant through a Message device. "Bring me the limousine in my dad's garage!" Her sycophants sat in respectful silence as Ayxin worked through a small mountain of dishes. _West Lake Fish in Sweet and Sour Sauce_ _Shallot Stuffed Pancake_ _West Lake Water Shield Soup_ _Dongpo Pork_ _Deep-fried Bean Curd Rolls Stuffed with Minced Tenderloin_ _Beggar Chicken_ _Victory Cake_ _Three 'Savoury' Soup_ _A pound of fried rice with freshly peeled river prawns in a white seafood sauce._ A dish, _Shelled Shrimp with Dragon Well Tea,_ caught her interest. Pao carefully explained that the Longjing tea came from the Village of Longjing and was a Gong-Cha, or the tea drunk by the Kangxi Emperor during the Qing Dynasty, the last and final dynasty of China's tumultuous change through the 20th century. "I may have met him. Kangxi was the snot-nosed brat who killed off his generals when he was twelve, right?" Ayxin dropped a casual truth bomb as she masticated the prawns, shell and all, savouring the herbal taste of rich, elemental water. Her new followers weren't sure how to respond to such an audaciously made-up statement. "Bring me that wine." Pao passed over a thirty-year-old Maotai bottle worth well over fifty HDMs. Ayxin slugged down the delicious, crystal-clear liquid. "Find me lodgings with clean air and water, somewhere discrete and without people. I wish to rest until the wedding." "The wedding? Mistress?" "You will be escorting me into the wedding." "… yes, Mistress." Ayxin had kept the man's mind intact. Within, a small part of Pao would have screamed and screamed, but the larger portion of his psyche was wholly besotted with her, whose every word was law and whose smallest whim was a mandate. His friends, likewise, had quickly transformed into her most ardent worshippers. Whenever he laid eyes upon her, every cell in his body cried out to worship her presence—to fall before an existence infinitely more significant than his mortal self. In watching her sycophants, Ayxin wondered if this was what her mother's scholar-bureaucrats of old must have felt when gazing upon their Emperor. Ayxin examined herself in the hotel room's mirror. She couldn't help but grudgingly agree that Gwen's figure was made for wearing these fabulous artisanal creations. Though Ryxi could command the silkworms to spin seamless tunics and shimmering shawls, the aesthetics of the White-Serpent had been firmly entrenched in the 16th century. The problem was that Ayxin had no sense of style, and her followers could not resist the compulsion of her dominion long enough to tell her the truth. Even though her sycophants brought up dress after dress, she rejected them all, finding that none had the charm of the simple cotton shirt which Jun had gifted her during their heated exchange. In the end, Ayxin settled on a dark green skirt and the Hello-Kitty T-shirt, imagining how surprised her Ash Bringer would be when she showed up at the wedding. By the same measure, she couldn't attend in the guise of Jun's niece. Pao had said that the girl would be there and was, in fact, the objective of many of the young men attending. The Dragon-Mage thus allowed her original appearance to overlay that of the Human niece, giving herself deeply set eyes, a sharper jawline, a more pronounced noble nose, and a head full of flaxen, platinum hair. For shoes, the pair Gwen had given her had been ruined by excessive use, so she had Pao find her a replacement in albino-snake leather from a place called _Italy_ as a homage to her useless brother. "Pao, am I beautiful?" Ayxin knew the answer but felt compelled to request an affirmation. Pao was wearing a tuxedo-style mandarine jacket. The young man looked good, Ayxin had to admit, even if his faculties had long since been grounded down by material excess. "OH MISTRESS, I am drunk on your distant looks and frequent smiles, sweet and real. I dream of your delicacy of complexion and symmetry of form in silken dresses embroidered with golden peacocks, riding on a silvery Kirin, dazzling in the sunshine of springs and autumns…" Even Ayxin blushed a little at the young man's addled obsession. She recognised the poem, stolen from the Analects of Du-Fu, the Poet-Sage of the Tang Dynasty. Ayxin's father had kept a complete collection of Du's 1500-odd poems, often joking that no second copy existed outside his treasury. "Enough," she had to stop the young man. Dufu wasn't just a sage of poetry; he was also the patron saint of whorehouses during the Tang Dynasty, overshadowing the bureaucratic and magical genius of the great Sage. Ayxin patted the young man's head, not unlike one's affection for a large dog. Pao wept with happiness. "When do you think we should attend?" she enquired of her servant. "Any time you please, Mistress. Though I would suggest soon, we must sign in our wedding gifts and be seated. My father has reminded me that I will meet with the groom's daughter and several other potential suitors. I have already rebuked him, Mistress. You are the sole object of my devotion." "No, Pao, go meet Gwen. I shall be occupied once we are at the wedding itself. Pay no mind to me." "Yes, Mistress." "You have taken good care of me in the last few days, Pao. I am not unkind. Though you may not remember me, I will reward you nonetheless." "Your presence is reward enough, Mistress." "Nonsense. Here, this is yours." In Pao's outstretched hand, she deposited a ceramic pot welded shut by Enchantment. Within its pocket dimension was a supply of yearling Fur Tea, plucked at first bloom by Air Elemental Sprites. The Yinglong bartered no more than a hundred jars of the life-extending tea leaves, capable of bringing vitality to the elderly, dispelling disease and injury in the young, and temporarily infusing the drinker with motes of Draconic-vitality. Even as Pao wept freely over his impending freedom, Ayxin turned to the mirror to examine her striking features. She had never known that with a little touch of _make up,_ a change of colour to her eyes and a subtle shift in her bone structure; she could be so breathlessly beautiful, even in her own eyes. "Alight, Pao, ready the car," Ayxin informed her companion. "The wedding awaits!"

"That's the dress she ordered?" Qīn spread the cream-coloured horror across the dining table before regarding it critically. "She'll look like a pink pancake wrapped around a fried dough stick." "Yes, Mistress." Her servant confirmed her scepticism. "Miss Gwen has said that the bridesmaid should never overshadow the bride. Her intentions are for you to take centre stage." Qīn shot her manservant a perplexed glance. The elderly NoM had been in her service since she was a child. Rarely had he spoken out of turn, especially in defence of someone other than herself. "I see." Qīn clicked her tongue thoughtfully. "It's hideous." Bei lowered his head. "And afterwards, you helped her make her other purchases? The ones for her friends in Shanghai?" Bei nodded. Qīn chewed her lips thoughtfully, her eyes looking right through her manservant. "Has the contingency dress arrived?" "It has, mistress." The man brought out a package from his storage ring. Qīn spread the dress before her, examining it critically. "What do you think of the cut, the design?" "Mistress?" "Speak candidly." "The dress is… immodest, Mistress." "It's what they call fashion, Bei." Her usually soft eyes grew suddenly cold. _Murder her koi?!_ _Beguile her manservant?!_ _THE BRAT!_ Her precious, priceless koi that she'd taken care of since she was a little girl! Murdering her auspicious creatures right before her wedding, what was the girl thinking? Did she disapprove of her union with Hai that vehemently? "You are dismissed, Bei." Qīn watched the man disappear. Hai was hers alone. Not the Song's, and certainly not his daughter's. Gwen had spent the last few days exploring Hangzhou at her leisure, putting the wedding behind her. On Wednesday morning, she spent three hours watching a man materialise a life-like scene of the Qiantang River with nought but three paintbrushes and a four-colour palette of dark ink. Watching the artist at work, she became soothed by the sound of whispering willows, sinking into the softness of the fine turf covering the riverbank. Her luncheons proved equally enterprising and adventurous. Unlike the heavily salted and sugared cuisine typical of the tier 1 city, Su-Hang dishes were more subtle, based on the plentiful resources provided by the city's lakes and estuaries. In particular, she fell in love with a textured gloop made from West Lake Lotus Root, a richly sweet gravy possessing a fortifying vitality. Given the freedom to explore the city proper, Gwen grew partial to jogging along the banks of the West Lake and the river. The exhaustive exercise allowed her to stretch out her limbs, while the runner's high made her feel less anxious about the wedding ahead. Her favourite route was the descent of the blue hour when the crystalline water became awash with mauve and sometimes orange light as the sinking sun diffused its splendour over a dusky horizon. A short but tranquil lull in her otherwise turbulent life. The calm before the storm. On Thursday, Gwen began her morning run from the Santai Yunshui monument, built to commemorate a noble scholar-bureaucrat of the Song Dynasty, detoured via the Leifeng Pagoda, then joined the walking trail encircling the West Lake Municipal Reserve. The whole route was almost twenty kilometres of blissful greenery. The more she ran, the better she felt. Her Almudj's Essence sang out as she moved through the temperate Jiangnan waterscape, comfortably falling into the rhythmic breathing dictated by Ayxin's scales. The more she ran, the more mastery she felt over the willful power bound within her mortal body. As milestones fell by the wayside, she felt the mental grime gripping her consciousness flaking piece by piece, mote by mote, until only the feeling of fleeting distance remained. Occasionally, a passerby or a suspicious-looking fellow would call out to her, but she blasted past them without a pause. On one occasion, a Mage joined her, presumably a Transmuter, and the two ran side by side until the man gave up, not wanting to damage his body for something as trivial as chasing her skort. As the day wore on, Gwen ventured further and further into the reserve, visiting temples and sightseeing from tall pagodas, bathing in the heady scent of sandalwood incense. She even caught the tail-end of a funeral procession, allowing her to watch demurely as the white-clad family filed from the grand pavilion in rows of twos, as a monk attired in saffron and gold swished a willow branch back and forth, sanctifying the path ahead. Feeling moved by the display of human frailty, she entered the grand hall of the Lingyin Temple and lit three pieces of incense for her grandmother and her uncle, wishing them good luck and less interesting times ahead. Friday. Gwen noticed several pedestrians giving her strange looks as she jogged back toward the manor. There was a particular quirk about the Chinese which had always grated on her nerves—they liked to point. In Australia, finger-wagging at someone was very rude. In Shanghai, people had pointed, but understandably because of Ariel riding Caliban rodeo style. Here, they could only be pointing at her because—Gwen hypothesised narcissistically—because she was tall and attractive. If there was any saving grace, it was that the Chinese hadn't acquired the dog whistling habit enjoyed by Mages and NoMs alike in her old working-class suburb of Forrestville. Still, Gwen felt offended enough to change her route. Along the way, she discovered a quaint hole-in-the-wall place selling individual Chongqing hot-pot portions and readied her body for a gut-churning experience as delicious as it was torturous. Afterwards, she called Richard again, thinking that "the crew" was likely taking time out for some R&R. She was again received with merriment and joy, becoming privy to enticing accounts of Lulan's exploits and her soaring reputation as the 'Nantong Ripper'. FUCK. Gwen bit her lower lip. _What a cool moniker!_ On Saturday, the Liu's held a rehearsal. One boon of the tedious rehearsal was that she met Jun's partner for the wedding, a mousy woman from a neighbouring House called Jingweng Yi. The woman was thoroughly intimidated by Gwen's unconscious hostility, spending the entire time hiding behind Qīn. Their other bridesmaid was Qīn's younger cousin, a girl with a hyper-feminine, doll-like mien, who immediately took offence at Gwen's indifferent demeanour. The reception wasn't at a restaurant or hotel like the Hyatt Regency or the Hangzhou Four Seasons. Instead, it was held at the Liu estate. The practice called the _flowing water banquet'_ allowed anyone who wished to wish the couple well to join the 'outer banquet', while the inner circle held their private function in the interior courtyard. The sheer volume of guests frightened her, but there was no rescinding her sunk cost. She convinced herself that no matter how tedious the wedding, it would pass like a bad meal of hot pot eaten too quickly and with too much pepper oil. Gwen smiled for four hours without rest. Afterwards, she fled from the manor, avoided the riverbank and proceeded upward until she reached Zuanyuan-Fan, north of Chi-San Hill, a historic garden abandoned by the Qing invaders, then restored by the CCP as a monument to the Battle-Mages who gave their life defending the Northern Front. After a long walk, she felt an unexpected quickening of her Lightning mana as her Almudj's Essence circulated, now with far greater mastery than when she'd first returned from the Yinglong's mountain. Out of curiosity, she double-checked Ariel. The marten was still fast-asleep, cocooned by essence as a flow of Lightning channelled from her Conjuration Sigil nourished its growth. When she mentally nudged it, Ariel made an "Eeee!" informing her that it would soon be ready for duty. In less than twelve hours, the wedding would begin. Gwen would stand like a marionette and be pushed to and fro by strangers directing her to sit, stand, hold the teacups, pour for her father and _mother_ , and smile at guests. Then, she would be back to Fudan. Back to academia. Back to honing her six tiers of Elemental Lightning. And finding a way to introduce the horror-stag Caliban to polite society. Sunday, 0600. W-Day. A day that may very well live in infamy. Gwen hadn't slept and had to compensate for her lack of REM with a fifteen-minute meditation. Almudj's bounty wouldn't keep her entirely alert, but she wouldn't crumple while serving tea. She dressed in slacks, then ventured toward the dresser to prepare her face. With her flawless dermis, she needn't apply the copious layers of concealer she had to use in the old world. She instead began with a thin layer of spot-cover, highlighted with dashes of easy-glam, dabbed in some eye-shadow paste, then used a no.2 to draw thick, voluminous wing-tips. Some contouring followed, highlighting her forehead, cheekbones, and chin. A wet-look lipstick in peach, sharpened with a pencil, completed the look. The result was agreeable to Gwen. Fresh but dazzling, subtle but coy. As for hair, Gwen opted for a low-do. At seven-sharp, she made her way across the south wing, through the central courtyard with its sprouting spectacle of dining tables. A familiar-looking triangular platform caught her attention. "Are those Force Barriers?" Gwen stopped a servant. "Yes, Miss, there will be Spellcraft demonstrations after the reception." Not a conspiracy device then, Gwen rolled her eyes at her paranoia. Duelling was the most popular activity amongst junior Mages, as demonstrated by the fact that the largest and most popular association at her uni was the Fudan Competitive Duelling Club. When a large coalition of Houses, Clans and notable folks had a gathering, they bragged about themselves by showing off their children. The servant left before she could apologise for stopping her. The groomsmen's party was set up elsewhere, at another family estate. The idea, Gwen gathered from the rehearsal, was that the groom would 'arrive' to 'welcome' the bride, 'persuading' Gwen, Jingwen, and Fei to let them through. The weird part was that Hai was marrying "into" the bride's family, which meant the palanquin would return to the main House from where it came. Gwen was tempted to 'defend' the door to her death. "Over my dead body!" she would declare. What would her father do then? But then she would have to fight her uncle. She was still musing when Fei, the China-doll cousin, approached with her dress. "Gwen, you seriously going to wear this thing?" Of course, Gwen grinned at the cousin. She had picked a burrito dress that made her look like a soggy Mexican takeaway luncheon on purpose. God knows what Qīn would do if she were to overshadow the bride in any form. And then she pulled up something light and flimsy. Her immediate confusion was, 'What happened to the other 80% of the fabric?' "Aunty Qīn?" Gwen blinked innocently at the bride. "Wear that one, Gwen." Qīn made a guilty face. "Your original one was lost." "Lost?" "Bei slipped, and it fell into the pond." "Really?" Gwen felt a spark of annoyance and tried to keep it from her face. If Qīn couldn't be bothered putting effort into a lie, why bother lying? Was she testing her? "Yes, Bei was devastated." Gwen's scalp crawled with phantasmal premonition. The dress wasn't excessive by Australian standards. She could easily wear it to the races, where the ladies would have nothing but praise for her excellent taste. Yet, she couldn't help but shiver. There wasn't enough material to cover most of her. "Gwen, we have no time. Put on the dress." Qīn's healer's presence pleaded with her. The emotional blackmail was glaringly obvious. For a brief moment, Gwen fantasised about throwing the dress in the pond. But she thought of babulya, of Jun—of her father's stupid smitten face. And the fact that it was this woman's wedding day. A woman who had waited twenty years to marry the man of her dreams. She had to give Qīn a chance as a fellow single. She put on the dress. Or, as it were, she slipped into half a dress. If she was going as a wrapped burrito before, she was now wearing only the lettuce. Qīn had picked out a knit flare dress with a backless design, a full circle skirt and a weighted hem, all done in pinkish pastel silk. The hem was at least three inches above her knees, dangerously exposing her thighs, while her entire back was nuddy thanks to superficial ribbon ties tethered to make a cute little 'H'. Just as she was about to complain that the dress was too loose and she could have a wardrobe malfunction, the bloody fabric tightened. A fucking magical dress. Her evil stepmother had spared no expense. On the one hand, the dress was both elegant and youthful. It put Gwen's best attributes on display. On the other hand, why would Qīn go the extra mile to draw attention away from herself? "You look like a real treat, dear." Qīn's eyes flashed lovingly. "Here, put these on. They're a gift from me." "Hermès?" Gwen stared at the golden buckle embossed with a horse-drawn Duc's carriage. "For me?" "Yes, try them on," Qīn mused in a friendly voice. "The shoes are self-cleaning, self-sizing, and resistant to almost all forms of wear and tear. It will also attune you to your element once you complete the ritual. The instructions are in the box." Qīn passed over an orange box. The surreal moment caught Gwen off-guard. Qīn had scored a critical hit on the weakest part of her psyche. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Even in her old world, the most she'd ever spent on shoes was outlet-priced Jimmy Choo or Burberry's. A pair of ankle-strap Hermès sandals was over $2000! In-season varieties were often well over $4000! For that price, she could be buying work-related oxfords from Louis Vitton. It wasn't that she couldn't afford Hermès. It was the unbearable thought of scuffing a $2000 pair of shoes, especially ones she would only wear to parties or races once in a blue moon. She had promised herself that perhaps, in another decade, when she could comfortably retire, she would casually purchase a pair a year, the newest of the season, and cycle through them. What would something like this cost in the Mage world? As a magic item crafted by one of the world's most esteemed 'Artisanal Accessory' workshops, what price did it command? In Australia, they had designer goods, but the products were rarely enchanted. It was like buying from the 'budget' section of a designer store versus purchasing from the top-shelf, in-seasons range. "Cat got your tongue?" Qīn broke into scandalous laughter, amused by the stunned expression on Gwen's face. "Thank you… Aunty Qīn." Gwen suddenly felt incredibly depraved. One could not look a gift of Hermès in the mouth! She put her new shoes on and walked around in them. The strap was calf-skin soft, and the shoes were weightlessly attached to her feet. Despite the high arch, she felt no discomfort; the heeled sandals were perfect. "This is incredible," Gwen blurted out, still in disbelief that she had a pair of Hermès casually gifted to her. "We all have a pair," Qīn informed Gwen. "Daddy got them for me from the Paris Tower. He has acquaintances there." As is tradition, the other girls showed off their shoes, which absolved some of Gwen's guilt. Fei wore a version of her dress with ample fabric at the back, though she had a plunging neckline that showed off nothing in particular. Jingwen, meanwhile, was wrapped from shoulder to knee. When the three stood together, it looked like they had a whole, three-quarters, and half a dress. "Mao, your legs are so long." Fei's gaze could not be moved. Qīn's cousin was about five-foot-four, an average height for a local girl. The diminutive Jingwen was only five-foot-one and looked like a New Zealand Halfling standing next to Gwen. "It's the shoes." Gwen awkwardly made herself smaller. The shoes added another four inches to her height, pushing her just over six-foot-four. "Gwen's standing on the far end, so it won't matter," Qīn informed the other bridesmaids. "Come on. The men should almost be here." "They won't get past us!" Fei announced readily. "I'll do my best," Jingwen muttered. "I'll kick my dad's ass," Gwen declared. The other bridesmaids fell about with laughter. "Gwen." Qīn took Gwen's hand, her eyes forming two smiling half-moons. "I am counting on you." Gwen nodded. For the shoe's sake, she better not fuck this up. The women's collective attire was finalised with jewellery. The bridesmaids wore crystal jewellery in sterling silver, while Qīn wore gold and diamonds. "No bangles and necklaces for you?" Gwen asked quizzically. Qīn's first costume was a big red number that covered her from neck to ankle. Its flared sleeves begged for jewellery. A massive headdress rested on a coffee table beside them. "You'll see after the tea ceremony," the other girls chimed in, giggling with anticipation. Gwen opted to use the cheap, non-enchanted jewellery she had kept since Singapore. A crystal necklace and a water-crystal bracelet. On her hands were her rings, and on her ears, she wore her two Ioun Stones, the Clarity of Thought and her Translation Stone, as earrings. A trumpet blast outside the main House suggested that the men had arrived. "How long?" Fei turned to her cousin. "At least an hour." "Haha, no problems!" Thus buoyed on her Hermè's high, Gwen turned away, insensible to the curling of Qīn's crimson, sanguine lips. _BEEEEEEARRRRNNNNN—!_ The blaring cacophony was emitted by a suona, a kind of miniature trumpet that made a loud, ear-tingling whining. Gwen suspected the player must have been an Illusionist, for the bloody thing could be heard for miles. Together with the trumpet, a giant gong joined in the festival of noise, followed by the thunder blast of fire-crackers created by a second and third Illusionist, filling the path with red petals for good fortune as the procession passed. As the party descended at the front gate, now once again shut for the occasion, Gwen could spy through the iron-wrought windows her father, Uncle Jun, a young man she'd never seen before, and a fourth, someone she recalled seeing at the Liu banquet, a man in his thirties. The groomsmen approached the gate and then knocked on the brass rings. "I AM HERE FOR THE BRIDE!" Hai declared. "OPEN SAYS ME!" "Why should we open the gate?" Fei retorted from behind the wooden threshold. "For your cousin's happiness," Hai shot back. "She'll be happy, sure, but what's in it for me?" "I don't suppose you're willing to take some candy?" "What am I, a child? I would not open the door unless you pass THREE tests to prove yourself worthy of Qīn's hand in marriage." "I will accept any trial!" Hai declared expansively, oozing charisma. The crowd gathered outside began to clap, adding to the festive atmosphere. "There are three of us, and you must defeat all three bridesmaids!" The doors swung open, and the groom's party filed into the outer courtyard, accompanied by almost a hundred spectators. Each of the trials had been pre-planned by the girls. Jingwen was unexpectedly in charge of the 'Martial Trial'. Fei was in charge of the 'Wisdom Trial'. While Gwen was in charge of the 'Trial of Love'. Thankfully, the ominously titled festivity was just a poetry recital selected for maximum cringe as the husband-to-be professed his love for Qīn, with Gwen acting as the judge. The Martial Trial involved knocking Qīn's protectors into the water. With Hai and Jun, it was self-evident that the female guardians would have no chance. Nonetheless, the maiden guards put up a good show of force, eliciting cheers as they deflected spell after spell, buoyed by Water Walking. Jingwen surprised them with her skill and affinity as a Water-Abjurer, holding out against the Song brothers and the Liu cousin until the very end, when Hai destroyed the platform she had been using, forcing her into the watery arena. When the girls finally relented, they were greeted with thick red envelopes filled with currency cards to reward their labour. Watching the exhibition, Gwen wondered if she should have volunteered and if her father could break through her non-newtonian Shield before she was OOM. If Hai ran out of mana—would the wedding be off? The trial of wisdom was essentially a slapstick Q&A, with the bride asking questions Hai must answer, selecting from a list of answers. Hai thankfully got most of them right, inciting jeers and laughter every time he struggled. It was just as well that the Liu cousin was a part of his entourage, for Gwen could discern from the girl's vantage point that Hai knew far less about Qīn than she thought he did. Finally, it was time for the trial presided over by Gwen, and she presented herself to her father with a big smile and a sheet for him to read out loud. With her entrance, however, a hush fell over the spectators. A few of the elderly covered the eyes of their children. Jun's eyes glazed over while Hai looked like a frog was caught in his throat. It was the dress. Was it too scandalous? Gwen felt a chill. She couldn't wiggle the hem down anyhow. The bloody dress was magical and could resize itself. She scanned the crowd. It wasn't the length of the skirt. There were plenty of female guests wearing minidresses and cocktail skirts. Some of their cheongsams had leg splits that were far more revealing than her A-line ruffles. Was it the backless part? Did the Chinese not wear backless dresses? But it was too late to repeal her fashion faux pas. She was committed, and the sensibilities of attire would have to wait. "Here you go, Dad. I could only write in English, but Qīn translated it for you. She liked it very much when I showed it to her." "Gwen." Hai averted his eyes as he took the sheet from her hands. "You are going to attract a lot of attention. Are you sure that's wise?" "I didn't pick the dress." Gwen stood half a head taller than her father in her new heels. "Aunty Qīn gave it to me." "She did, did she?" Hai looked guilty. Gwen regarded her father. _Was her old man in on this?_ There was palpable remorse in his body language. It was the look of a father who suddenly realised his little girl was a woman and that wolves were all around them. "Uncle Jun," Gwen flashed her pearly whites at her uncle. She struck a pose. "What do you think?" "Gwen, you're breathtaking, if a little disreputable, hahaha." "You're looking like a treat yourself, Uncle." Indeed, the Song brothers were good-looking blokes whose august appearance was improved by their suits. Hai had on a tapered Mandarine jacket in crimson silk, a riotously eye-catching colour that suited him well, while Jun was in a western three-piece with a red and gold embroiled vest, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Amusedly, the two standing together reminded Gwen of the Hemsworth Brothers, Australia's great export to Hollywood. Perhaps a little comically, the third groom and the Liu cousin resembled pedestrians when standing beside the two Songs, invisible but for the corsage. She could see from the glowing eyes of the women in the audience that her uncles were stealing hearts and winning minds. "Come on, Dad, start READING! Loud and clear!" "Alright, alright." Hai cleared his throat. _"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways._ _I love thee to the depth and breadth and height_ _My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight_ _For the ends of spring and winter._ _I love thee to the level of every day's_ _Most quiet need, by sun and Dancing Light._ _I love thee freely, as men strive for right._ _I love thee purely, as crystal mana clear._ _I love thee with the passion put to use_ _In my humanity, with my childhood's faith._ _I love thee with a love I seemed to lose_ _Growing with lost years. I love thee with the breath,_ _Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if heavens choose,_ _I SHALL BUT LOVE THEE BETTER - AFTER DEATH."_ With the final words delivered, Hai didn't seem so confident. "Hell of a speech," he muttered, staring at Gwen nervously. Jun likewise appeared contemplative. "Til Death do you and aunty Qīn apart, Dad." Gwen met her father's dark eyes with her hazel orbs. "There's no backing out of this one. Babulya, Grandfather, the whole Song family needs you to commit." Hai nodded solemnly, stunned by the promise of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's timeless sonnet. Gwen wondered if it was the beauty of the sonnet that had brought Hai to heel or the fact that he had made the promise in front of such an esteemed gathering. The crowd was already roaring with approval for Hai's boundless devotion. "You PASS!" Gwen declared, embracing her father. Hai dared not touch the naked flesh exposed by Gwen's backless dress. He settled on patting her shoulders instead. Gwen's attention then shifted to Jun, who nodded appreciatively at her gesture of support for the wedding and the unfortunate path ahead for the family. The better Hai could act as husband and consort to the Liu "heir", the more influence he could exert over Qīn. If so, it was possible that Secretary Liu's sway on the Songs could be mitigated somewhat. Ideally, their House could remain neutral even as they were forced to perform inconsequential favours. With the three trials over and the maid's tasks completed, it was time to welcome the bride. Penetrating the inner courtyard, the groomsmen dispensed copious amounts of red packets, each with arbitrary amounts of currency cards. When enough of the women in the yard had been 'bribed', Qīn was led out by her maids amidst thunderous applause, clothed in red and gold, a humanoid tapestry of embroiled silk. The palanquin made its round from the east wing before the party eventually entered the west wing, where the 'elders' had been waiting. Holding the train of Qīn's dress, Gwen followed after the vermillion-garbed bride with her head down. Qīn's other two bridesmaids cleared the path as Qīn's headdress, consisting of a heavy red cloth, prevented her from seeing beyond her feet. Hai walked beside his bride, unable to touch her before the most important ceremony of the day. As the bride and groom entered the west wing, Gwen spotted her grandparents seated at the head of the ceremonial table, with Qīn's father, Sumei Liu, standing beside them. First came the nuptial rite, where the couple faced each other, followed by Hai removing the veil and headdress, revealing the ravishingly beautiful bride. Hai and Qīn received a golden goblet tethered with red string, filled with honeyed plum wine. An ovation resounded across the inner courtyard as they drank from each other's cups, followed by a crash of trumpets and gongs. Looking away, Gwen spotted the Illusionist recording the whole thing, standing outside the crowd, manipulating incantations with his fingers like a puppeteer. The convenience of magic impressed Gwen to no end. Wedding photographers in this world had it so much easier! There were no guests with iPhones trying to be amateur photogs and no danger of backing away for the perfect shot only to step on the flower girl, trip, then break their wrist trying to protect equipment and toddler. In front of and below the elders, the bride and groom knelt on cushions placed under their knees by the bridesmaids while a servant brought a jug of tea with a dozen cups for Gwen to hold. The almost newlyweds knelt on both knees as tea was poured by bridesmaid no.1 and carefully passed to Hai and Qīn via bridesmaid no.2. Guo and Klavdiya were the first to receive the honours, being the eldest and the groom's parents. "Do us proud, Hai." Guo patted Hai on the shoulders. "You have no idea how long I have waited for this day. I am truly happy for you." "Thank you, father." Hai bowed deeply. "Welcome to the family, daughter." Klavdiya was glowing with positive energy as she spoke, filling the room with warmth. Qīn regarded her mother-in-law with tearful eyes, perhaps thinking of her deceased parent, then sobbed as she received the old woman's benediction. "Here, this is for you." Gwen's babulya slipped a heavy gold bangle onto Qīn's wrist and gifted her with a pair of diamond and ruby earrings in mithril. Gwen could tell the earrings were enchanted but knew not enough about Magic Items to say what they were. The next to receive the tea ceremony was Secretary Liu and his sister, serving as Qīn's 'mother'. The tea was exchanged, wisdom was given, and more gold was given to Qīn. Another set of Liu's relatives followed. And another. And finally, the eldest member of the Clan of Liu, an ancient Magus aged a hundred and twelve, gave her his benediction, followed by yet another heavy-gold bangle. Gwen wasn't sure if the Lius were showing off or what, but Guo looked less than pleased when Qīn tried to rise and was almost taken off balance by the three or four kilograms of gold and mithril she now carried on her person. By now, it was almost 4 PM. Between the waiting, the games, the ceremonies and the gifting, Gwen had been attending to Qīn for almost eight hours. She had eaten copious amounts of gut-filling fried dough for breakfast, but without Kimiko's nourishing weekly feeding of Caliban, her hunger grew increasingly more urgent. If she couldn't get something in her stomach soon, everything around her might look like food. The reception, thankfully, was immediately upon them, after which Gwen was free to eat the night away. It was the western portion of the wedding, with an MC introducing the bridesmaids and their groomsmen. From the looks of it, she had been paired with the unassuming Liu cousin, a companion Gwen didn't mind as the man was apparently in his thirties. As expected, being the 'third' bridesmaid, Gwen was the first to take to the stage. Purposefully strutting across the pavement, she walked arm in arm with the Liu cousin into the courtyard. By now they were losing daylight, but that was precisely the magic of the banquet. Sparing no expense, Secretary Liu had purchased thousands of Floating Lanterns, embroidered individually with silhouettes of good fortune and pictographs for luck and happiness in every shade and colour. These floated above the wedding reception, swaying gently, forming the most spectacular outdoor wedding Gwen had ever seen, casting the entire inner courtyard in mystical, ambient light. As they entered the banquet, the Liu cousin placed a hand against the small of her back. The man's hand was heavy, trembling, hot and sweaty. "Sorry," his unassuming voice was filled with tension. "Is something wrong? Are you feeling alright?" Gwen leaned in closer. The man was sweating profusely. "I am fine. Please, let's finish the walk. I am afraid your attire is a little too scandalous." So that's why the man kept averting his eyes. Gwen didn't know whether to laugh or cry. At least the guy was a good sport. A man who knew better than to entertain improper thoughts for Qīn's daughter-in-law. "It's alright, I understand," Gwen replied sweetly, giving credit where credit was due. As the two made their rounds, Gwen felt a tingling on her neck, where the scale was buried at the base of her hair. She scanned the audience quizzically, unable to locate the source of the resonance. What she did receive, however, was tumultuous acclaim from a group of young men all lined up like ducks waiting to be fed, applauding her as though she had just completed a runway. The exaggerated gesture made her break out with a broad and friendly smile. On the way, she spotted her cousins seated by the 'junior' section far from the bridal table. Gwen wanted to run over and embrace Petra, but she still had at least two more hours of bridesmaid duties to execute. After completing their circuit, her guilty companion abandoned her on the maid's side of the bridal table. The tension drained from her taut body when Gwen's buttocks touched the soft, padded chair. Despite their wonderful craftsmanship, her designer shoes were not meant for nine hours of walking and standing. With meticulous subtlety, she circulated her Almudj's Essence, feeling her mana channels bathed in the healing essence's restorative embrace, relieving the knotted muscles in her feet. Beauty was pain, and as much as she loved those shoes, a day standing on tippy toes was torture. The others were soon seated, as were the bride and groom. Plates of food, steaming famously, entered the banquet. A plate of Peking Roast Duck Crepe arrived. What? She blinked. Snatching up the crepe and finishing it with two bites. WHERE WAS THE REST OF THE DUCK? The other tables had a WHOLE DUCK! She looked at her companions, who nibbled at their food, careful not to ruin their makeup. Gwen dabbed the hoisin sauce from her lips. The next dish arrived. One small bowl of shark fin soup, barely two ladles full. WHY DO THE OTHER TABLES GET A WHOLE GOD DAMN WINTER MELON FILLED WITH SOUP? She was so hungry she could cry. Uncle Jun was no help because she would have to leave her seat to beg him, not to mention she had no desire to eat his share of the food. By the same measure, she couldn't just leap from the platform and demand one of the guest table hand over their duck, could she? They were barely touching it! The next dish, and the next, and the next arrived. One cut of Australian-Auroch in the mandarin sauce. Two stuffed crystal prawns. Half an East-Sea Coral-Lobster tail in ginger and shallot, with one mouthful of noodles. Watching the others eat with meticulous slowness, Gwen wanted to reach over with her chopsticks and steal the meal from their bowls. The cuisine was delicious, which made it all the worse. A Void was opening inside of her. "Ah~." Jingwen, the quiet Abjurer, dropped her chopstick. "I'll get it." Both of them reached down. When their heads came up, Gwen noticed Jingwen was sweating. Her face was flushed, and she was panting slightly. "Are you alright?" Gwen poured the woman a glass of water. "I am fine." The poor girl squirmed, likely suffering from dehydration from all the talking and walking she had to do. She looked as though she had a heat stroke. "Hang in there!" Gwen encouraged the Abjurer. But the woman was looking over at Jun with a glazed expression, an act which immediately soured Gwen's opinion of the whore. Inexplicably, her Divination pinged. The scale at the back of her neck vibrated. Gwen scanned the banquet alarmingly, looking for a face she should recognise. "It's the time!" Qīn suddenly rose from her seat, her crimson cheongsam hugging her hips. "That's it for the main banquet. Let's get down there and start the greetings! Hai, tell the boys to get their kidneys ready! Jing, Fei and Gwen, bring the Mao-tai! One bottle each! We're starting the toasts!" Jingwen slipped her arms into between Jun's elbow and his waist. Ayxin's scale bristled. Gwen stood as dreadful premonition poured over her like an ice-bucket challenge. "Gwen!" Qīn called out. "Come on! You're pouring!"

"Happy wife, happy life, Mr Song! Gānbēi!" Gwen poured the wine distractedly, far more engrossed in seeking out the source of her dreadful premonition. Her surveillance, however, was limited to the table-by-table meet-and-greet where, as is tradition, people were trying to get Hai as drunk as humanly possible. At each table, they had to toast the guests with thimble shots of baijiu sitting at a heart-stopping 53% purity. It was, therefore, the groomsmen's job to "help" the groom by acting as the "Abjurer". Likewise, as the bride's companions, it fell to the bridesmaids to take one for the team to ensure the bride was sober enough to complete her nocturnal nuptials. The bridal party greeted their immediate elders at the main table front and centre of the inner courtyard. Klavdiya touched Gwen's hand and thanked her for acting competently while her grandfather knitted his brows, displeased at Gwen's unnecessarily revealing attire. Secretary Liu, conversely, immediately complimented her on her beauty, raised a toast, and then congratulated her grandparents on possessing such a "treasure". All in all, there were ten tables in the inner courtyard, twenty in the outer yard, and another thirty-odd outside the estate, under an external pavilion. The bridal party needn't visit the outer assembly—it was filled with mundane guests and servants, consisting principally of NoMs. "Petra!" Gwen squealed when they reached her cousins. She had been hoping to converse with her Shanghai 'crew' all day but had been too busy to tear herself away, even for a minute. "Gwen, you looking sweet-ASS!" Tao gave her a thumbs up. "Please wear the dress to my show. Bring some sugar!" "Are those Hermes?" Mina knew what was up and what was truly important. "I am happy you're safe and sound." Petra nudged Mina, feeling awkward that the first words out of the girl's lips after a week-long absence was branded shoes. "Welcome back." "Thanks, everyone," Gwen relaxed. "Please come and join me after it's all over. We only have another thirty tables or so. No, Mina, they're a gift from Qīn. But I'll tell you what—these shoes are killing me! Tao, I'll consider it, but only you can convince Petra! Pats, how long did it take you guys to get to Hangzhou? Did Mina drive all of you?" Mina did not answer Gwen but looked in a trance, likely still thinking about Gwen's shoes. "Sorry, Gwen," Tao wasn't sure what had overcome his sister. "Don't worry about it," Gwen replied, disregarding the faux pas as inconsequential. "S-sorry!" Mina stammered, dazed by her sudden infirmity, appearing as though she had broken free of some charm. "I am feeling a bit unwell… maybe it's too stuffy here." The banquet was outdoors. "No worries, Mina, have some water," Gwen urged her cousin. "The humidity here gets to everyone." As the bridal party left the table, Gwen became hyper-conscious that the guests were now staring at her shoes, which were unfortunately attached to very exposed legs. If she had been wearing her burrito dress and not Qīn's scandalous number, immodest exposure would not have been a problem; alas, her meagre fabric just managed to cover her frontal torso, hips and upper thighs. The rest of the 'inner circle' were Liu's friends and family, notable local Houses, and a few prominent Clans between the Hangzhou Frontier, Suzhou, Shaoxing and Anhui. The guests ranged from polite and friendly to displaying undisguised concupiscence. One middle-aged bloke even sniffed her arm as she poured. After another half dozen tables, Gwen camouflaged herself behind the other two bridesmaids. It was just as well that their dresses were identical shades of pastel pink; with a little effort, she could hide behind the frontal pair. "I would like to toast Miss Song!" a voice called out from the table. Gwen looked up and saw a young man with a square face and bushy brows lifting a shot of Maotai toward her. The wedding party turned to regard Gwen with amusement and expectation. Jun met her eyes but said nothing, leaving the matter to Gwen's discretion. Gwen lifted a shot glass, then sculled the liquor with one gulp. The rice wine entered her throat like a fire, burning her tongue with its delicious scent. The enormously vital baijiu, distilled from rare Wildland sorghum harvested from the Orange Zone south of Chongqing, meshed well with her Draconic Essence. Gwen found, to her surprise, that her hunger had abated. There was a brief moment of silence, and then the table and its neighbours burst into applause. "HAO!" "Cao! That girl can drink!" "NICE!" "The Songs are northerners, right? Those northerners can drink!" "She is half Russian... well, her grandmother is from Harbin." "You know what they say. The Ruskies prefer Vodka over water." Gwen licked her lips. She could do with another. Maotai was famous for its distilled "life force". The purer and older the distillation, the more potent. She wondered if the rice wine, like the Fructum Vitae, had diminishing returns. Unconsciously, she licked her lips again, savouring the scent, setting the young man's heart to race. "Thank you," she replied sweetly. "Right back at you! Fill her up!" Jun regarded his niece, guessing at her intentions. Qīn and Hai regarded one another quizzically, but the exchange was beyond them now. One of the uncles happily filled up Gwen's glass and the young man's. "To your health!" Gwen took the shot without even blinking, savouring the taste. "HAO!" "Wonderful!" The young man sipped his second drink, not wanting to choke and embarrass his family. The table cheered the young sorceress and jeered her competitor, filling the festive air with jovial mockery. Thanks to Gwen, the toasting had taken on a less formal and far more familiar air, cries of 'Good!' and whole-hearted 'Gānbēi!' filled the air. At the next table, Jingwen turned to Gwen. "Gwen," the diminutive woman was slurring a little. At one point, Jun had to hold his partner steady lest she tripped over her feet. "Can you still drink?" Again, Gwen's spine tingled, and again she failed to locate the source. "Sure." Gwen gave her a thumbs up. "Hit me up." Not every day, she got to drink decade-old Maotai as spring water, not to mention the distilled sorghum that appeared to nourish her hunger. Another one of the young men, a fellow whose eyes hadn't left her face since she arrived at the guest table, raised a toast to Gwen. "Gānbēi!" Three shots and the young man was ready to spew. The next table came and went, with Gwen taking the shot for Qīn and the bridesmaids. Very quickly, she gained a group of followers who couldn't believe what they saw, following her group from table to table, cheering as she took another hit for the bride. “Gānbēi!” “Gānbēi!” “Gānbēi!” Hai was beginning to sweat even as Jun continued with a mirthful expression readable only on his curled lips. Uncle must be cracking up behind his stoic exterior. Gwen mused, flashing Jun a happy grin. He was the only one who knew that so long as she kept her Essence cycling, Gwen couldn't become intoxicated. To the surprise of all, it was her uncle Jun who couldn't hold his rice wine at the next table. The bridal party was doing the last rounds of the inner courtyard when an ethereal beauty greeted them. She raised a glass, then toasted the Ash Bringer. Gwen's uncle raised his glass, sculled the shot, saw the Hello Kitty shirt—then spattered the poor woman with a conic blast of high-grade alcohol. The spontaneous spittle shower drew every eye from across the courtyard. What a beautiful girl! Like Gwen, the guests sucked in a collective breath of air. The young woman was so strikingly stunning that even Gwen's heart grew sore with sympathy at her bedraggled state. The Ash Bringer coughed violently. The young lady's appearance suggested she was in her late teens, about Gwen's age. Spit and Maotai dribbled past a set of bright blue eyes, a high-bridged nose and deeply set features which marked her as a foreigner. The dead giveaway was her platinum-blonde hair, plastered across her face in sticky strands of sun silk. One would have figured the girl older than she looked, but the young lady uncharacteristically wore over her slim body a Hello Kitty t-shirt now covered with rice wine still dribbling from her chin. The crowd regarded the new girl—then Gwen—then shifted their attention toward Gwen's grandmother, with each instance adding increasingly more adventurous guesses as to their connections. Gwen, too, realised just how similar they looked. Their facial structure, long, lithe limbs, demeanour, and body language were similar. That shirt. Gwen's mind clicked. I know that shirt. The guest's curiosity converged on Hai, who was, for once, earnestly confused by the girl's familiar yet alien countenance. Jun made a sound that sounded as though he was drowning. The wedding guests migrated their gaze toward the Ash Bringer, who had become slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Her Scale—or rather, Ayxin's Scale, tingled. Fuck me dead! Gwen felt her cerebellum perform a double-summersault before landing awkwardly with a sprained ankle. AYXIN?! Gwen screamed internally. What the hell is the Dragon-Mage doing here? COULD SHE EVEN BE HERE? Why isn't she imploding from the Shielding Resonance? Was the PLA aware that a thermo-nuclear warhead had snuck itself into a city of four million people? Most importantly, should she tell anyone? But she needn't make that call, Gwen realised. She was in the presence of a higher-ranking officer possessing far more intimate knowledge than her wild speculations; if anything, it was Jun's call to make, his Dragon to lay. Ayxin's expression was one of complete devastation as well, though her distress was directed at her alcohol ravished 'Hello Kitty' shirt. "I am sorry," Jun stammered, his face growing as red as a beet. Gwen figured her uncle was likely shitting himself as he spoke. The man had ruined the dragon-kin's one-of-a-kind shirt, despoiled the remembrance of her affection and ravaged the romance of her surprise visit. Ha! It serves you right! Gwen smirked even as she deliberated the possibility of the Dragon-Mage erupting into an all-consuming fount of living lightning. Her uncle turned to Hai. There was no time to explain. Gwen could guess why. Suppose anyone should get the wrong idea about why a Dragon-kin wandered into a Shielded city without a self-decaying Resonance Sigil. In that case, Hangzhou could play host to the PLA Super Tower for the foreseeable future. Ayxin opened her mouth to speak. "Jun, I want a b—" "BROTHER, I NEED TO GO." "You go for it, man." Hai offered his straight-shooter brother a bro-fist. Gwen knew he had misread the situation and was likely happy only because the girl hadn't pointed at him. "Do what you gotta." Jun ignored Hai's fist bump, took Ayxin by the arm, and pushed the girl behind him. With a single, scandalous gesture, the Dragon-kin wrapped her arms around his waist and dashed the hopes of women in the courtyard, young and old. Jun's constipated expression insinuated someone had stabbed his reputation in the kidneys with a broken chopstick. Gwen winced. "Gwen, stay out of trouble. I'll be back if I am able." "Where are you going?" "Far... from the city, for now. You never know—" "Gotcha," Gwen nodded. "Be careful. If need be, what should I tell Babulya?" "Everything." "I'll try." Jun produced a Teleportation scroll. The two de-materialised with a flash of silvery Conjuration mana worth over 700 HDMs. The guests erupted into wild and audible speculation. Gwen glanced back at the Song's table and saw that Guo had transformed into an impassive stone statue, not unlike one of those granite lions outside Liu's estate. Her grandmother must have received a Message from Jun, for Gwen could see that the old woman was cupping a hand against her ear. Gwen's heart sank. Her precious uncle Jun was taken. Besides Gwen's grandfather, Secretary Liu poured a cup of tea for Guo. The man's palpable schadenfreude was visible almost half-a-dozen tables away. Already the Songs owed the Liu because their wayward son had knocked up his only daughter. And then their granddaughter "lost face" by causing a scene with her belligerent brother, then showed up as a bridesmaid wearing an entirely un-maiden-like attire. Now even Jun, the golden boy who could do no wrong, was slinking away after splattering a guest in the face, perhaps to get her a new change of clothes, but more likely dealing with a lover's dilemma. Jun's only grace was that the beauty had not burst into tears and made a scene! To think that the Ash Bringer of all people had been panicked enough to burn a tier 7 Teleportation scroll. It made Liu wonder which family the lass could belong to, though the answer would have to wait until after the wedding. Unexpectedly, events had progressed so well that Secretary Liu felt he had previously consulted with a State-sanctioned Diviner from Pudong. After tonight, the Songs would not have enough face left to slap! As if guided by a divine hand, the pieces kept falling into place of their own accord. Earlier, he had received conflicting reports that Gwen Song was seen marauding through Hangzhou city, making trouble for the locals, going as far as hooking up with the son of Assistant Secretary Chen at the Ritz Carlton. When he questioned Qīn's servants, however, they reported that the girl had returned to the estate regularly, bathing and sleeping in the south wing. The inconsistency was puzzling, but to Liu, the actuality hardly mattered. With Ash Bringer gone, a rare opportunity had presented itself. And Liu was nothing but an opportunist. A few tables over, Gwen was still trying to think of a way to put together a contingency plan or, at the very least, clear the guests should the Dragon-Mage return with less than peaceful intentions in mind. With her Spatial Magic, it was difficult to say if anyone in Hangzhou could hold her down, Jun included. "Let's take a break." Qīn licked her lips. She couldn't drink because of her pregnancy, and all the Maotai was giving the girls a heady fatigue. "Hai, take me back, then get me some water." "Of course, dear." Gwen caught the split-second glance that passed between them. The bridal party moved as one. Yet, when Gwen followed, her stepmother stopped her. "Go see your friends, Gwen. Mingle with the crowd. Hai and I will be fine. We'll do some catching up on my side of the family. I think Jun should be back soon; we'll wait for him. What do you say?" "Sure, I'd love that." The woman put on a sympathetic smile intended to assuage the girl's growing paranoia, but the girl had bolted without a glance in her direction. Gwen made for her babulya, feeling an urgent need to impart critical information for near-future contingencies. It was just as well that she could see the "oldies" had hardly touched their bottle of Maotai. Gwen had made it no more than three tables when she became surrounded. A dozen young men from the various families had been waiting almost two hours to address her vis-a-vis. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. "Miss Gwen!" "Gwen…" "Song Xiaojie" "Another toast!" "Come have a drink with us." The attention was flattering, but there was something in their eyes that reminded Gwen of Caesar's paranoia, that "Cassius over there has a lean and hungry look." She hoped they weren't expecting to stab her in the back, in a euphemistic manner of speaking, especially as she was quite exposed. "Let me through." She forced a wane smile to her lips. "I'll be with you soon. We'll 'hang' later, I promise." To her dismay, the men closed ranks. Their boisterous voices overpowered her feeble protest. Gwen's spine stiffened with displeasure. Are these guys fucking with me? Goats and monkeys! She bit her tongue, taking a moment to ponder the acceptable amount of minimal force necessary to dispel the Wall of Lust. Judging by the look on their faces, this wasn't their first rodeo. From how her stepmother left with the bridal party, the men's actions would appear premeditated. "My Uncle, the ASH BRINGER, is going to be very upset if we come to any unfortunate misunderstandings," Gwen raised her voice an octave. "Let me remind you that he is an Internal Security operative." Name-dropping Jun seemed to have made it through their system, penetrating the spirit and the hormones ruling their judgement. Seeing that her wayward suitors had become sufficiently cowed, she lifted her hand to part the crowd. Gwen had made it about halfway through the group when her Divination tingled. She sighed. What is it with her uncanny gipsies-luck with molesters? Can't she meet normal people for once? Gwen swung her hand across her buttocks with extreme prejudice as though swatting at an annoying gadfly. The edge of her knuckles grazed a wandering pair of fingers going for a squeeze, a pinch, a nab or a grope targetting whatever her attire had exposed. "Arrgh—! Tama-de!" There was a yelp. A scream cut short. Then a burst of expletives. And they said chivalry was dead. Gwen rolled her eyes. One of the young men Gwen recalled having shared a drink with her was nursing his right hand with a painful scowl. Two of the would-be groper's fingers were twisted in a strange direction. SHIT, Gwen shook out her right arm. A little too much force. "HOW DARE YOU!" Gwen turned to regard the source of the uproar. One of the young men charged her. ARE YOU SHITTING ME? Her mind reeled. God damn alcohol! Crap like this is why bars were so dangerous. Gwen sidestepped the crimson-faced buck with ease. She readied herself to push the man away, wondering if crying out for Petra, Tao, or God-forbid, her grandfather, would salvage the situation. But she wasn't the young man's target. The bloke passed her by, wound up right hook, then king-punched the molester in the face. Gwen suspected the young man must have been a Transmuter because his victim was sent flying in the literal sense. A clatter of teeth scattered over the pavement, joined by a striking arc of crimson. "WOCAO! What are you doing, Pao?" Someone screamed. A wall of protests erupted. "Is this guy trying to show off?" "Back off Chen! Who the fuck do you think you are? Your Dad is only the Second Chair!" "Buhaha! Playing the hero. You think she'll spread her legs for you?" "So fake, not even trying!" Gwen stared slack-jawed at the young man who stood in front of her, sharing the shocked expression of her astonished assailants. A white knight? A real-life, true-to-form white knight?! She was impressed. Not that she wanted to know the guy better, nor did she desire to butter the guy's toast, but she was impressed nonetheless. It was one thing to talk the talk, but this Pao guy walked the walk! "I love her!" Pao declared his loyalty with such passion that Gwen's heart rate shot to a hundred. Pao then turned to the assembly of amazed assholes, then blew her away with yet another audacious announcement. "I'll die for her." Gwen's heart sank. It was too much. The rest of the guests appeared equally astonished. "Are you two in cahoots?" One of the young men stated with a fiery face full of injury. "Why in Mao's name would you put up this charade if the two of you are already an item." "That's bullshit!" "Do you know how much I gave to your Father's wedding registry?" "CHEN PAO! YUUA MEAD MUN!" The protest came from the floor. The youngsters parted. Pao's victim had recovered from his tumble and was returning with a mouth full of blood and eyes full of retribution. Gwen swore and tried to back away from the scuffle, but a wall of bodies kept in place by spectators and rubberneckers pushed her back into the ring. The scent of fear, excitement, sex, and alcohol all seemed to mingle and feed into each other until she was reminded of music festivals where youths had to be put down by security. "PAO! YORE DNNND!" the groper had recovered after using a potion injector, attesting to the extent of his injury. His teeth, however, would require professional help. But the man's outburst became halted by a second cry from beyond the ring of spectators. "GREAT LEADER'S GHOST! WHAT IN MAO'S NAME DO YOU RASCALS THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" The crowd parted like the red sea. Guo, babulya, and Patriarch Liu descended upon the riotous kerfuffle. From the perspective of the watchers, it was proper that the bride and groom remained absent and out of sight, leaving the dirty work to their elders. The expected outcome was the expulsion of the troublemakers—though Gwen's inclusion among that number infinitely complicated an otherwise easy deliberation. "Young lady," the patriarch began. "What is the meaning of this lover's spat?" For a moment, Gwen thought she was hallucinating. The meaning of what? A Lover's Spat? HERS? How the hell? She trained her eyes on the Secretary, whose nose barely reached her chin. "I am afraid you are gravely mistaken, Magus Liu," she riposted critically. "I am an unwitting victim. These men have taken offence entirely of their own accord." "From where WE stand, all I can see are young bucks butting heads over a doe." Liu grinned, putting on a show of sagacity. "What do you think, Guo? Your granddaughter is a rare beauty. To think she possesses such beguiling powers at such a young age. What will you do when she enters society?" Her babulya's face became torn between ripping the man apart with her bare hands and keeping the peace. Gwen was reminded of that old saying that even Buddha has a temper. Behind her grandparents, she could see Petra's face fuming with quivering rage, while beside the Russian girl, Mina kept a hand firmly on Tao's shoulders. "As I VERY CLEARLY STATED, Magus Liu, I do not know these men." "Am I to presume these young gents spontaneously decided to accost you?" Secretary Liu scoffed. "That is correct, Sir," Gwen replied chillingly, channelling her inner Guo. She raised her voice so that everyone could hear. "They appeared uncalled for and unsummoned from thin air to block my path. They have no respect for you or my father's matrimony. If you have any sense, you should expel them from the wedding." The retort from a girl a quarter of his age, seemed to catch Liu off guard. For a brief second, the Secretary appeared entered by her commanding presence. But then the man's face soured with annoyance. Liu's eyes swept over Gwen's livid face. His expression was frosty as he cynically regarded her 'beau' and his toothless victim. "Pao, Hu, explain yourselves." "I am in love with Miss Song." Pao's admission blew Gwen's mind to kingdom come. "I've spent the last few days and nights with her in the city, sharing in her company. I cannot allow animals like Hu the chance to place his dirty fingers on the girl I adore." S-Spent the last few days... And nights... PLURAL? FUCKING PLURAL? Gwen felt dizzy. "I dnn no such fing!" Hu retorted vehemently, his missing teeth slurring his protest. The man's unbridled anger was lending strength to his cunning. "The Song girl is a tease, and she's also insane! She attacked me when I offered her a greeting! Ben and Pei-Jai, and Suqee can all attest!" "That's right!" "Unprovoked!" "She broke his hand!" "The girl's out of control." "There are some girls you take to a hotel but not your home..." Secretary Liu turned to Gwen, spreading his hands as though he had received all the needed evidence. With a critical eye, he admired her frustration. Watching the man's curling lips, Gwen felt a subconscious longing to Consume Liu's smug face right here and now and damn the consequences. "What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Song? What's your game? Why the garb, and if so, why turn away the young men you set out to attract?" "That's not true—" "Don't play games with me!" Liu snapped at her, making her flinch. "Do you believe me so easily swayed? Here is my daughter's wedding!" The last statement was intended to ricochet elsewhere. Both Gwen and the Secretary turned to look at Guo and Klavidya. Her grandfather maintained his stoic-statue countenance while her babulya's face became as vivid as pippins. Gwen's head buzzed. Every ounce of her depleting will was spent suppressing her raging Essence. She was sure that if she blew her casket now, she could be on an examination table by next week, having Draconic Essence leeched into a bucket. "As I was saying," Liu continued, basking in the shameful attention he was bringing to his in-laws. "Gwen, it is improper for a young lady to lie so readily. Young Master Chen knows you in an intimate capacity. By his own admission of guilt, you have shared his companionship for many days, and indeed, my servants can attest that you have been absent from my home from morning to evening." The patriarch's accusation hammered her like a mallet. She could refute—but the age-old quandary of "he said, she said" put her at a distinct disadvantage. From the wedding guest's perspective, Gwen supposed it looked like she had become stunned by the patriarch's judicious revelation. Gwen's grandmother moved to interject; Guo held her in place. Secretary Liu continued. "I can see why the young Chen is so obsessed with you. With talent, beauty, intelligence, and a good family, you lack nothing. However, it would appear that your Frontier upbringing has limited your understanding of how our society functions—its basic rules of modesty and dignity. I cannot blame your esteemed grandparents. They are the most wonderful people I know, but one wonders." "Patriarch Liu…" Seeing her dismay and believing her on the verge of tearful disgrace, Pao interjected on Gwen's behalf. "I am willing to take any punishment. Please leave Gwen out of this." "Now, Mr Chen, we're not done with Miss Song yet." Gwen was an inch from going nuclear and hitting the Mutually Assured Destruction button when she detected her grandfather eyeballing her. She blinked back angrily. Her grandfather looked over at the bridal table, shook his head, and then shot a sideways glance at Liu before narrowing his eyes dangerously. Liu could see something was up, but the Secretary was intoxicated by his oration. "Now, knowing what you have set in motion, Miss Song, I want to know how you wish to resolve this. If you have nothing to say, perhaps Secretary Guo can provide some wisdom to share with us. No one wants a spectacle at their son's wedding, no?" So that's it. Gwen realised. It would appear negotiations over the allegiance between the Songs and the House of Liu had yet to be settled. Gwen glared at her grandfather, her eyes fiery and demanding. "Gwen," Guo's voice filled the room with its sonorous timbre. "I want to hear what you have to say." The unexpected olive branch surprised Gwen as much as it startled her grandmother, who stared at her husband with astonishment. Gwen stepped forward. By now, a ring of rubbernecking guests had gathered around the commotion. Many of the non-factional members remained seated, not wanting to embarrass the Chair of the Confidential Communications Committee. Others, members of Liu's faction, took up an audience to lend the Secretary their clout. If someone like the infamous Secretary Song, the old 'hound dog' of the CCP, could be taken down a peg and brought to heel, it would do wonders for their factional influence. Gwen smoothed out her dress, her calves lifted by the Trojan gift of Hermes. Mindful of her hostile audience, she struck a power pose. Let them look, she mused sardonically: may your eyes rot. To Gwen—Qin's purpose—intentional or otherwise —was now clear; whether Secretary Liu premediated the event no longer mattered. What was important was that her grandparents had been cornered because she fell for a pair of shoes, among other things. Secretary Liu's intent, she discerned, was to show that the Songs had diminished since the heydays of the Ash Bringer. Though Ayxin's presence was entirely unanticipated, Jun's absence had set something unexpected into motion. She doubted Patriarch Liu would push her grandfather like this if Jun could step in. Whatever his plans, Liu was honour bound to "give face" to the Hero of the North or risk ire from the PLA's military. "Secretary LIU—" Gwen stood with her shoulders squared and legs slightly apart. Her Draconic Essence filled her veins and mana channels, giving her an air of effortless supremacy. The change in the atmosphere was immediately notable as the crowd ceased murmuring. "—What I am about to tell you is the truth and nothing but the truth. Listen well. I DO NOT KNOW Mr Chen. I have NEVER MET Mr Chen in my life. MY DRESS—" She slowly turned, her gaze sweeping past the silent crowd, shivering spines and silencing small children. "Is chosen FOR me by Qīn, your daughter. I do not personally have an issue with it. I am grateful she gave me such beautiful attire to attend her wedding. If you feel scandalised, take it up with her." "You can't expect me to—" Liu moved in to cut her off before Gwen's performance could derail the narrative he had constructed. "Let her finish." Her grandfather moved a hand in front of Liu's face. A supremely offensive gesture. But Guo was the elder, and the old man held a higher, far more sensitive position within the CCP. The two men gazed upon one another like two tigers sizing their opponents. One was an old veteran of the jungle, the other an ambitious intruder looking to expand his territory. Liu relented, for now. He couldn't publicly break with the patriarch of the Songs. "Mr Chen?" Pao appeared bewildered by Gwen's outright denial of his existence. "Y-yes?" "I am not the girl you are looking for, Mr Chen. Let it go." "But it was you!" Pao protested desperately, his face scarlet from sweaty brow to the throbbing neck. "I know it was you! How could I forget your face? All my friends were there!" He turned to his 'friends' in the crowd. "That's her!" "Yes, she's the one!" "We even have lumen pics!" One of them waved a Pic-recorder. "What do you say to that?!" Liu grinned wolfishly. The Secretary immediately commanded the young man to approach. A moment of tinkering later, an image became visible, projected via an Illusionary Enchantment embedded into the device. There was a picture of Gwen in her white sundress, standing beside Pao. She stood like a queen surrounded by her sycophants—arrogant, proud, and beyond reproach. The boys were cowed by her demeanour, clearly subordinate to her presence. A thunderous clamour broke out among the audience; a few of the guests began to chuckle. Voices jeering at Gwen rose above those restraining themselves to polite mirth. The girl was a liar, and she had been caught red-handed. What a moment of shame for her elders! What a thing for the granddaughter of the Songs to do! The apple had fallen far from the tree indeed! Perhaps the girl was insensible from her excessive drinking? Mayhap she had been raised as a greenhouse flower and had thought the world her oyster because of her uncommonly pretty face? "The woman in that picture is not me!" Gwen's voice rang out over the courtyard. But there was no one to hear her. Granddaughter and grandfather stood in the middle of a circle of wedding guests, bearing the cross of humiliation. To Gwen's wonderment, her grandfather reached out to her. She reflexively responded by offering her grandfather a hand, which Guo took. Her grandfather drew a few pictograms in her hand. Gwen blinked rapidly at Guo. SHE DIDN'T UNDERSTAND CHINESE. HER IOUN STONE COULDN'T TRANSLATE SECRET HANDWRITING. Guo blinked back. The two regarded one another as the clamour persisted. Secretary Liu raised a hand. The laughter ceased. It was a clear demonstration of power and influence, one that said to Guo and Klavdiya that he could make all of this go away if only they'd listen to his proposal. "I want compensation!" The Hu boy cried out, breaking the silence as if on cue. "Now we know the girl's a liar! She attacked me first! She owes me an apology and a favour! The Songs owe the Yuan family an apology!" Before Gwen could retract her hand from Guo's grasp, Chen Pao, the unwittingly involved young man, lost his shit entirely. "SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" The poor fool's eyes were glazed over with rage and unrestrained passion. "I CHALLENGE YOU! I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DEATH MATCH! You FUCKING LIAR! How dare you sully Miss Song's name! I'll KILL YOU!" "PAO!" A voice called out from the crowd. It was one of Chen's relatives who had been observing the proceedings. "Don't be a fool. Apologise and go home! You're no match for Young Master Yuan." "I can't, Uncle." Pao gazed at Gwen longingly, his voice choking as he spoke. "I must defend her, even if she doesn't care or remember me." OH, FOR FUCK'S SAKE. Gwen felt her temple throbbing painfully. YOU FUCKING SIMPLETON. She glanced over at the bridal table, hoping her father or Qīn could salvage the situation. The bridal party was gone. Her father was fucking gone. Within Gwen's mind, the final puzzle pieces fell into place. Secretary Liu must have begun the night with hopes of humiliation to "push" the Songs in the right direction. The absence of Jun had provided an opportunity he couldn't refuse. Steering Hai and the wedding party away, the Secretary took advantage of whatever childish tomfoolery his daughter had set up to bring matters to a head. What blew her mind was that Hai, her father, left with his cunt of a wife instead of standing up for his own family. But then again, what the fuck had she expected? As for her uncle Jun, he'd probably have to offer his body to the Dragon-witch, quelling her wrathful lust. She imagined her uncle lying on his back, thinking of China as Ayxin did what came naturally to Dragons. Just as the two hot-headed youths were about to leave for the duelling arena in the other courtyard, her grandfather walked between them. "You two, a moment before you shame yourselves." Guo turned to face the wedding guests, studying the faces of those who had mocked and laughed at a Chair of the CCP's inner circle as if carefully remembering their faces. Her grandfather stepped beside Gwen, flanking the girl, joining her precious babulya. "I believe my granddaughter is telling the TRUTH." His voice penetrated every inch of the guests' skulls, empowered by Suggestion, enhanced by Illusion, skills which Guo had squirrelled away over the years, waiting for the right moment to be exercised. Gwen was sure she had misheard. Guo was taking her side? Had the Para-Elemental Plane of Ice taken over the Plane of Fire? The old man appeared to grow in size as he addressed his audience. "Two truths are presented before us—If you do or do not believe the words of Guo Song, that is your choice—THOUGH I tell you now as the CHAIR of the CHINESE COMMUNIST PARTY's CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMITTEE, my granddaughter is NOT a LIAR." Guo reminded Gwen of an old lion, finally angry enough to work up its former power. "Who among you will challenge me? SPEAK UP NOW. I WELCOME IT." The crowd fell silent. The sudden and uncomfortable reminder that this man knew their secrets, perhaps better than themselves, overrode Liu's promise of an obedient ally. Guo's mien remained ironclad, though his timbre dropped an octave as his voice rang out once more. "So you hold your peace." Guo scoffed, then continued. "Good. But the Songs do not require another to defend their honour." He turned to Gwen. Gwen puffed out her chest, taken by her grandfather's uncharacteristic outburst. Was this what they meant when they said that a dangerous dog rarely barks—because you'd only hear it after it had torn off your face? "Gwen, show these whelps why you have no interest in them, and why their accusations are false. A toad may wish to take a bite of the swan, but the immutable TRUTH is that toads are toads! Do what you will. You have my support!" Suddenly, the thin veneer of politeness hiding the hostility between the two families was torn. Mina, Tao, and Petra broke through the crowd to stand beside Gwen. "We believe our cousin!" Tao declared, defiantly looking around at Hangzhou's collective Guan-er-dai and Fu-er-dai. "Peaches will fuck em up for you, Gwen! They all know who my Dad is! Let's see em try! These motherfuckers are gonna be bankrupt before the weekend's out! You Er-Bi's want to honour your House? I'll BUY YOUR DOGSHIT HOUSE AND KICK YOU OUT! YOU'RE HOMELESS! YOU HEAR ME?!" Gwen fought to suppress a snort of inappropriate laughter. Tao's boast was just that, but didn't they say one had to "fight poison with poison?" "I'll act as your Abjurer in Richard's absence," Petra declared, giving Gwen a curt nod as she flashed her Storage Ring. "I always bring a full complement of Spell Cubes. By the way, I got a tier 6 Blade Barrier loaded for emergencies..." "I'll heal." Mina sounded peeved that Tao had just dragged her out here without her consent, though for once, her brother had tossed her under the bus for the right reason. Gwen turned to the young man from the Hu family. Her eyes were light-fantastic, alive with mana. "You still insist that it was my fault?" The young man couldn't back down, which meant he couldn't apologise either. Watching Hu's face twisted in anguish and self-righteous indignation, she lost the last ounce of her sympathy. "Well, are you going to apologise?" She demanded. Hu's eyes were wildly eyeballing Secretary Liu. "This is absurd!" Patriarch Liu scowled as events escalated nonsensically. "You can't get away with just this, Miss Song." "Sumei." Her grandfather intervened. The old man's countenance suggested he was browsing turnips at a market, not facing the disintegration of his family's reputation. "Care for a wager?" "What do you have in mind, Guo?" Her grandfather's reply filled the courtyard. "If a single one of your Clan's juniors can defeat my seventeen-year-old granddaughter tonight in a duel, I will join the House of Song wholeheartedly to your faction and labour toward whatever cause the Conservative Party wishes. Furthermore, your male or female grandchild will become the inheritor of both our Houses." The world felt Liu's heart skip a beat. The guests ceased their eating, drinking, and merry-making. Duels were a common feature of any good social gathering. The after-dinner entertainment allowed the elders to show off their young people. And contest egos. "And if she survives the contest?" Much to Liu's annoyance, Guo refused to lower his voice. "If Gwen should prove the victor—the House of Song and I shall cease all obligations toward the House of Liu. Your future grandchild will not only have the last name Song, but they will belong to MY household." Liu stared at Guo, his mouth half-open. Gwen wondered if the old dog dared to test her grandfather's resolve. "You ask for a difficult wager…" Guo turned to Secretary Liu. For the first time, a smile touched his lips. "It's true what they say. Paper Tigers don't bite." A few of the guests snorted. One idiomatic phrase was enough to set Liu's world on fire. The Secretary of Hangzhou closed his eyes for a brief few seconds to cool his feverish mind. "Very well, Secretary Song." The two men's hands met in a firm and unrelenting shake. "I applaud your confidence, Secretary Liu." Guo nodded at his granddaughter, who stood defiantly with her friends. Receiving the confirmation from Guo, Gwen patted Pao on the shoulder, feeling commiseration for the addled sod. "I'll take it from here, buddy. Thanks for the save. Too bad I am not her, eh?" Pao's lips trembled as he sank to one knee. "Anything for you..." Gwen sidestepped his attempt at kissing her, careful not to reward the man with a knee to the kisser. She then turned to the assembly of 'suitors' gathered in front of her. Gwen struck a thumb toward the direction of the outer courtyard. A blue-white spark zinged from her shoes and grounded itself on the stone pavement. She placed a hand on her hip. Their insults, lies and humiliation had left welts on her mind that could only be soothed by tier 6 Lightning. "Alright, kids. Like my grandaddy said, it's fuck or walk time." The men stared, stunned by her expletive. "Don't you bastards DARE go soft on me now."

As an international sport, Mage Duels was begotten in the West, though it had always existed amongst the Chinese Elite in an unofficial capacity since antiquity. Compared to grand displays of power and ego, the Tower's system had brought a code of conduct upheld by adjudicators and participants the moment they stepped into the sacred space of the arena. Commonly, Acolytes and Mages duelled for practice and to settle grievances. Maguses oft participated, restricted to a lower tier of spellcraft. Magisters, however, were strongly discouraged from dangerous and excessive demonstrations of their powers. Past the middle tiers, spells were far more likely to result in fatalities. In general, duels to death were illegal and frowned upon as a waste of human resources. However, when contests were held in unofficial capacities, "accidents" tended to become a fact of life. By the time Gwen and her toothless groper entered, banquet tables had already been shifted to the side, and an impromptu area about the size of two tennis courts had been boxed in with portable Force Barriers. Below the transparent "box" was the koi pond, though the fish were now curiously absent. A wave of nostalgia assailed Gwen's memory. When she had visited Elvia's mansion in Sydney a lifetime ago, Evee's extended relatives had duelled over the water. The Frontier Aussies didn't have access to Force Barriers and had to instead rely on floating docks and the bay itself to displace wayward spells. The news had circulated that the two Patriarchs were betting the honour and the future of their Houses on the contest, drawing all eyes toward Gwen as she stood with her family on the sidelines, awaiting the opening act. "Gwen, we're all behind you." Petra gave her cousin a long-overdue embrace. "Yeah gurl, any ho who even thinks of trashing you better watch their bank!" Tao announced a little too loudly. "Thanks, Peaches. I appreciate the gesture." Gwen ruffled Tao's hair, flustering the young man. Tao was her senior by almost four years, but Gwen always treated him like he was the younger one. "But no threatening my opponents with bankruptcy, you hear? You're going to ruin grandfather's plan." "What plan?" Mina scoffed. "Throwing you to the wolves?" As her father's spoiled little jewel, Mina rarely had to stomach Guo's discipline. Whenever the old man grew grumpy, she would scoff and then leave. It was one reason the Wangs and the Songs had grown apart over the years. That and Tao's insistence on his career in music and entertainment instead of military, politics, or commerce. "Oh, I wouldn't say that." Gwen stifled a smile. "They may be wolves, but I am the Lurker in the Dark." "Ha! Is that a self-prescribed nickname?" "How about Black Widow?" Peaches suggested. "Now that's a bitch'n moniker." "I don't think so," Gwen firmly refused. _That name was copyrighted._ With overt familiarity, Petra placed a hand on Gwen's shoulders. Gwen looked up inquisitively, meeting her cousin's startling, husky-like eyes. "Gwen, may I?" Petra enquired. Gwen gave consent. Petra focused her mind, sending an inquisitive diagnostic glyph into her cousin's body. Gwen forced herself to relax as Petra called up her current status, gauging the change in her Sigils, Affinity, and biometrics. "Jesus." Petra breathed in. "You're…" Gwen put a finger to her lips. "What is it?" Tao leaned toward her conspiratorially. "Did Uncle Jun leave Gwen with some killer item?" "Something like that." Gwen laughed. "Where is Uncle Jun, anyhow?" Mina looked around the place. "He's preoccupied, I'd wager, pounding away for the motherland," Gwen answered more cattily than she would have liked, wondering what her uncle could be doing with Ayxin. If her uncle could return at a convenient time, it would make the Song's victory doubly assured. But then again, if Jun threw his reputation around bullishly, the Lius may launch everything they have. It would be total war. With the barriers assembled and tested for rigidity, an older gentleman in a mandarin jacket presented himself. "Good evening all, for those who do not know me, I am Magus Owen Ly, Registered under the PLA Tower in Shanghai, holding the rank of Major in the PLA. I have been asked by Committee Chair Song and District Secretary Liu to oversee the proceedings of this auspicious duel celebrating the wedding of Magus Liu and Mr Song. If there is any among you who desire to question my impartiality as arbitrator of the duel, please speak now..." A moment of silence reigned, followed by polite applause. "Excellent. I shall now proceed. From the House of Song, we have Gwen, a first-year student from Fudan. She is the daughter of Mr Hai Song." Gwen walked forward, watched by her family. Klavidya turned to her husband, who held his wife's hand. "You're not nervous?" Klavdiya felt her husband's fingers. They were firm, cool, and bone dry. "While you spoke with Gwen a few nights ago, I spoke with Jun." Guo's face was impassive, but there was a hint of gentleness in his eyes. "For weal or woe, Gwen has become powerful. I have every confidence in Gwen's ability." Klavdiya blinked for details. Guo said nothing. Upon on the duelling dais, Magus Ly continued. "First to challenge Miss Song is Cadet Zheng Hu, from the Branch House of Cheng, serving the House of Liu." One of the spectators turned to her male companion. "They're pitting that poor girl against a military officer? What's the Patriarch Song thinking?" His companion shrugged. "You mean what's Patriarch Liu thinking." Magus Ly seemed unsure of the proceedings as well. "Miss Song, may I obtain a confirmation? Do you intend to proceed? This is not a contest until Shield Break. You may very well receive grievous injuries." "I am ready." "Very well. Duelists, enter the arena, please." The walls became immaterial. "There is to be no item usage, nor any offensive or supportive magical armaments. The match is to first 'yield'. Until then, I shall not intervene." Both contestants affirmed their willingness to follow the Magus' guidance. "You'll be sorry, your little minx. The world will see what kind of woman you are." Gwen ignored Hu's shit-talking. Any action not contributing to the bastard's decimation would waste her time. Above them, the Magus levitated until he was behind a section shielded from the combat below, standing just above the cage. He could erect new barriers to protect a defeated combatant from additional injury at a second's notice. "BEGIN!" Cheng's half of the arena grew suddenly hot. "Flame Str-" The man began. "Lightning Bolt!" Gwen was already done. Where Hu had desired to use Flame Strike, smothering the better half of Gwen's court with fire, Gwen had only one goal: the first-strike advantage. A blue bolt of raw plasma issued forth from thin air, connecting the space between herself and her target with an arm-thick concatenation of ionised air. Hu's shield activated at once, forming a semi-dome wreathed in orange. _Krink!_ With a sound like crushed glass, his shield cracked. "Shit!" Hu retracted the spell on his lips, switching to defence, weaving another Shield into place. Basic Abjuration was a staple of military training, even for Elementalist damage dealers. "Fire-" "Lighting Bolt!" A second bolt joined the first, blinding the audience with its intensity. "Shit-" "Lighting Bolt!" Gwen's first bolt diffused only when her third bolt issued forth. To the audience, it seemed as though three lines of lightning had tethered Hu to Gwen, preventing him from repositioning himself. "Mao! What's her affinity?!" "How much mana is that girl channelling into those bolts?!" "Maximised Lightning Bolt?" "Looks Empowered." Hu's Shielding failed yet again. "Blink!" A bolt grazed the Fire Mage just as he disappeared. The man was already half-paralysed and smouldering with static when he appeared behind Gwen. Gwen had been waiting. She knew that her opponent's only recourse was to close in. Fire Mages tended to have many low to mid-level short-range AOEs with high damage thresholds, such as Flaming Hand, Flame Toss, and Wall of Fire. Close-quarter elemental combat was where certain Elementalists shined. "Lightning Whip!" Her 'whip' caught the man as he emerged, sizzling his half-formed shield before it could expand to protect his body. "Flaming H-" "Lightning Bolt!" "Aarrrrgh!" _Crack!_ _Crack!_ Again and again, she flayed away at Hu's arrogant mug, watching his face fill with fear and panic. _Spak!_ _Spak!_ _CRASH—!_ Hu's shield failed yet again. Her whip struck the man's flesh. A sudden crackle not unlike a thunderclap resounded across the courtyard, followed by a nostril-distending stink of burnt flesh. A welting gash of strikingly salient blood ran from the man's temple, down his nose, and across his chest. "DO YOU YIELD?!" Gwen halted. Her whip hand trembled. Her brain took a moment to catch up with her thrilling body. _Holy shit!_ She had almost maimed a man! A man whose crime had only been aborted sexual harassment. Her heart pounded, white-hot adrenaline dangerously pumping through her systems, demanding gratification. "I... _blurrgh_..." Hu appeared more robust than his demeanour suggested, caught between honour and self-preservation. His voice was cut short as a paralysing agony wrecked his nervous system. "VICTOR, Miss SONG!" Magus Ly shook his head, declaring Hu's loss, not wanting to log a semi-permanent maiming under his judgement. Gwen diffused her whip. She shook out her fingers. A portion of her brain chemistry urged her to continue. The rational part of her discourse issued a red card to the psychic persona who wanted to administer another twenty lashes. "WHAT?! NO!" Her assailant rose from the floor. "I haven't yielded! I haven't even completed a single spell! This is not fair! She's using an accelerator! A spell booster Ring! You said no Offensive Items! She cheated!" The wedding guests burst into boos and jeers. Hu's face grew three shades darker. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. A dark and tenebrous emotion overruled his senses. "STINKING BIAOZI!" he screamed at the audacious girl. "HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME!" Gwen narrowed her gleaming eyes. Enough was enough. Something equally dark within her mind answered the young man's call to combat. A surge of Draconic Essence circulated violently through her body as she focused her will upon the screaming imbecile. Her whip materialised instantly—she raised her arm menacingly, ready to deliver the maiming blow. Up above, Magus Ly felt a shudder overtake his mental faculties. Below, Hu stood dumb as a statue, his body frozen in place by an instinct for survival far wiser than his ego-addled mind. A trickle of yellow liquid began to seep from between his legs. "That's it for the Chengs. Good riddance," someone prophesized. Gwen's disciplinary intervention paused mid-air. She had no desire to whip an incontinent man. "Mercy! Miss Song! MERCY! Hey, let me through! MERCY! MISTRESS!" A man, presumably a relative of the young Hu, banged against the Force Barrier with all his might. Magus Ly prevented the man from entering. "Miss Song?" Gwen lowered the whip when she saw Cheng's follower on his knees, banging his head on the pavement outside the duelling box. Her anger deflated. The pity she felt was overwhelming. "Let him in." She motioned to the wall. Magus Ly complied. The intruder ran toward the young master Hu before bodily picking up the mortified young man from where he had spread his foulness over the floor. "I... I yield..." The declaration came too late and too inconsequentially. The Cheng's good name had been pissed away, and all the magic in Hangzhou couldn't put it back in his bladder. "Make way!" The audience made way. There was no point in continuing to shame or jeer the young man. He had already pissed away his future into the wind. It was one thing to lose to a seventeen-year-old girl in her twenties. She caught sight of Chen Pao, the man who'd mistaken Ayxin for her. The poor sod appeared more convinced than ever that she was "the one", his eyes earnest enough to burn holes into her dress. Turning away, she averted the man's gaze. Those were a stalker's eyes. When would Ayxin be back? How long was her uncle going to work his magic? "Hit me!" She signalled Tao. Tao tossed her a bottle of Maotai she had commanded him to scrounge. Gwen didn't need Divination to know that she would soon need to draw upon her vitality-empowered abilities. "What was that you hit 'em with?!" Tao's eyes gleamed with marvel. "A new spell? Was it Enchantment? Did you finally pick up Enchantment?" "Naw…" Gwen slugged the bottle like mineral water, savouring the warmth soaking her mana conduits. She recalled the last time she and Tao had a similar conversation. She put down the bottle and coolly informed her cousin that she'd been training her 'killing intent'. "Woo~." Tao's mouth hung open, trying to imagine Gwen bathed in the blood of her enemies. The scene playing in his head made for some fascinating lyrics. Meanwhile, the crowd gave their condolences to the Cheng family. At least the girl wasn't putting on airs, the audience thought, turning to regard Guo and Sumei; both old men wore their expressions like Noh masks, revealing nothing. Who would crack first? The guests wondered, looking forward to the next match. "Got what you wanted?" Guo asked his companion. Liu ignored his counterpart. Guo's taunt was as arrogant as it was confident. Liu now knew he had been baited. Gwen's prowess had been revealed, but her depth remained unprobed. The miscalculation didn't mean Liu didn't have a contingency of his own, though the foul taste in his mouth was undeniable. The House of Liu had gained local prominence by absorbing, allying, and intermarrying into the local Clans, and Jiangnan remained the birthplace of many of China's most celebrated Scholar-Sages. The question was how many of their young folks he could afford to throw at Gwen without invalidating the gambit Guo had goaded him withal. If he resorted to grinding Gwen down with trash before assaulting her with their most talented Magus, the amount of _face_ the Liu would lose would be immense, nullifying the whole purpose of subjugating the Song into the Conservative Faction. Most importantly, the underhanded tactic would anger Ash Bringer, who could then have an excuse to _step in._ Liu Sumei measured the pros and cons of sending out his trump card immediately. There were still too many unknowns. What if the girl had a spell which happened to counter the prodigy he had in mind—the pride and joy of the Suzhou branch of the House of Liu? Liu was confident that within the confines of the arena, it was impossible that his nephew, Wonsoo, could lose. Still, it paid to be careful. Guo was an old dog, but even a decrepit mutt could crush one's hand if given the opportunity. Should the Lius lose, all the investment they had put into the Song's first son would be forfeited, not to mention he would lose his daughter and a future heir of the Hangzhou bloodline. As the parable goes from the Three Kingdoms, he had no desire to lose the army and then the bride. Three more challengers—Sumei affirmed the limit of his conviction - then he would send out Wonsoo. From the looks of the girl's Lightning Affinity, she was at least above a 5—marking her as a rare breed. No wonder Guo was uncannily confident. If he should fail... No, Sumei tapped his chin. It was unthinkable that the girl could defeat Wonsoo. "Ji-an," he called out to the crowd. A young Clanner in her early-20s stepped forward. The girl had a wisp-like aura about her that reminded the audience of a swaying willow. Her hair, her limbs, everything about the girl seemed weightless. "Please demonstrate the famous Spellcraft of the White Crane School to our guests." "Yes! Uncle Liu!" As before, the two combatants were invited into the arena. By now, a group of NoMs had cleaned the place thoroughly, ensuring that neither Gwen nor Ji-an would accidentally slip or step on the shameful display left behind by Gwen's last contestant. Ji-an bowed toward her Patriarch. Gwen hastily performed the same gesture for her grandfather, eliciting a few awkward laughs from the audience, defusing the tension somewhat. From above, Magus Ly asked if they were ready. "Yessir." "I am ready." "BEGIN!" "Air Step!" "Lightning Bolt!" Gwen had hoped she would catch Liu's second contestant again with a fast-chant offensive, but her opponent eluded her assault by using a Signature form of Blink. Sidestepping Gwen's line-based elemental onslaught, Ji-an appeared half a meter to Gwen's right, then swung her hand in a broad, sweeping gesture. _A melee Mage?_ Gwen mentally adjusted her strategy. The wispy-looking girl was a melee caster? "Shield!" Gwen's barrier manifested in the Blink of an eye, springing from her body as a semi-dome. _TSsszzz!_ A horizon slash turned the frontal lobe of her shield stark white. _Fast!_ Gwen immediately fortified her Non-Newtonian Shield, anticipating the follow-up. _Tssshing!_ _Psshing!_ _Tzzwing!_ Ji-an's Air Blades were a tier 1 chant, but her spell flurry was pumping out almost three scythes in the space of one of Gwen's Lighting Bolts. For the observing Wedding Guests, the Aerial Mage's plan had worked brilliantly against the Lightning Sorceress, who had no idea what to expect. She was now caught flat-footed in the same manner as the Cheng Fire Mage. However, the question on the minds of Gwen's audience was how long a fellow offensive elementalist could hold out. Outside the perimeter of the duelling area, Liu turned to Guo. "Your granddaughter appears to be using Westernised Spellcraft. Have you taught her nothing?" "She received her education in Sydney." Guo sipped his tea. "Western Spellcraft is predictable," Liu smirked. "What will she do now? Her Abjuration is only tier 1, is it not?" Guo glanced at his rival. _Was the Secretary showing off his intelligence network?_ What a laughable and stupid display from a bureaucrat playing at espionage. "I wonder." Guo pursed his thin lips, forming a grey line. "It would be laughable if your Affinity 4 Kenshi with Transmutation and Evocation at tier 4 couldn't even break through Gwen's paltry tier 1 Abjuration Shield." Liu snorted with derisive mirth as Guo continued to nurse his cup. Guo drank his tea. The duels would speak for themselves. The frontal part of Gwen's Shield had become almost entirely opaque. The Air Blades were barely penetrating the first layer. But she paid it no mind, for she could top up her shield faster than Ji-an could diminish it. Compared to Kusu, who had assailed her with a hundred daggers at once, the Air Mage's blades were barely a chicken scratch. Correlated against Lulan's spell flurry, whose blades could crack the first layer of her Shielding with a single strike, the force from Ji-an's was laughable. What troubled Gwen was how she would nail the speedster without giving away too much of her ability. Ariel was still asleep. Caliban, Gwen wanted to save for a tight spot. Without Cali's pants-shitting, PTSD-inducing initial impact, the melee monster had limited utility. She considered a large-scale AOE. _Ball Lightning?_ But that, too, was one of her trump cards. Something akin to a bluff that could unbalance her enemies would be best. Gwen wasn't sure how many contestants there would be, though five or six wouldn't be out of the question. If the Lius kept throwing fodder at her, could she also call for a proxy while she took a break? The only other Song who could fill in for her was Tao, though no one wanted to see that happen, least of all Tao himself. Perhaps Petra could fill in, but her position as Magister Wen's disciple and her lack of affiliation with the House of Song could be used to contest her eligibility. Perhaps Percy could participate. Gwen searched the crowd and saw her brother standing behind Tao and Mina. By now, the assault had slowed, and her shield was restoring its clarity faster than Ji-an's attack could make its surface opaque. By Gwen's count, the girl must have fired off thirty-odd blades. Even someone with enhanced mental fortitude would have to endure Spell-fatigue sooner or later. To Gwen's surprise, she and Percy's eyes briefly met; her brother responded by giving her an encouraging nod and a thumbs up. The gesture filled her with good cheer. "Flashbang!" Gwen generated an over-charged crystal, humming dangerously in the palm of her hand. Outside her Shielding, Ji-an launched an AOE in the hopes of draining her mana pool. So far, the Ice Mage had been hewing away at a mountainside. "Ice Storm!" Being an Air Mage, Ji-an lacked the impact and penetration of Ice Mages when using the spell. "Air Lance!" _Thunk—_ A battering ram of ice and air slammed into Gwen's Shield. The eastern quadrant of Gwen's Shield turned entirely opaque as the projectile struck. Inside the dome, Gwen was ready. "Dimension Door!" "Air Step!" Ji-an was relentless, tailing Gwen's movements even as she appeared on the far side of the duelling arena. It was a testament to the girl's talent that she was tracking Gwen's Conjuration-based teleportation with nought but Transmutation. What greeted Ji-an, however, was a blast of lightning as they both materialised. Gwen felt sorry for the girl, for few knew that Dimension Door was uniquely taught by Henry Kilroy and could be used as an offensive tool. Ji-an erected a hasty Shield as she attempted to reposition herself. The sound of a clicking crystal striking the surface of her shield greeted her. As for Gwen herself, she had disappeared behind yet another Shield, one consumed by a dark membrane. _BUNG!_ Ji-an's world filled with light as the sonic blast concussed her brain. Unlike Gwen's Void Shield, the Air Mage's defensive barrier was transparent and paper-thin, suitable only for deflection. The sound rattled the Force Barriers and sent her opponent off balance, falling to her buttocks. Disoriented and stunned, the Air caster despaired, struggling to rise. As an Aerial Combat Mage, evasion and avoidance were her staple defence. Tanking an offensive spell was suicide. "Lightning Bolt!" "I FO-" She was too late. Gwen had no intention of letting things end without pain. _CRACK!_ A lightning bolt sizzled past her face, filling the air with ozone. The plasma had ripped through her shield and would have sent her straight to Hangzhou's ICU had Gwen not altered the trajectory of her spell. The female mage fell to one knee, her entire body visibly quivering with exhaustive fear as she took in the reality of her unexpected survival. "I FORFEIT!" She pushed the words from her bloodless lips. "VICTOR—MISS SONG!" Magus Ly landed beside Ji-an and examined the status of the girl. The blindness and deafness would soon wear off. Gwen hoped the girl was otherwise unharmed. "Good work." The adjudicator nodded appreciatively at Gwen with an expression of immense relief. "Most excellent control, Miss Song. You should be proud. I'd thought you would have struck the girl for sure." "Nothing to it." Gwen smiled at the Magus before helping Ji-an to stand. "You alright?" "I thank you for your mercy." Ji-an bowed deeply. "Hey, we're just pawns in someone else's game. It's nothing personal." Gwen gave the girl a thumbs-up and a hug. "I am glad you're okay." Ji-an accepted Gwen's embrace, a gesture that met with applause from around the courtyard. Gwen turned to regard her grandfather, finding the old man golf-clapping. When she smiled at him, the old man cleared his throat and stoically returned to nursing his tea. Waving her opponent off, she descended the dais as naturally as she could muster. Her heart was racing over a hundred and fifty. What had the instructor said? _Most excellent control?_ CONTROL? She had never possessed the ability to twist her lightning! That she had done so could only mean one thing. "Ariel!" She internally called out to her Familiar. "EE-ee!" Ariel responded with a resounding squeak. "Did you redirect that Lighting Bolt?" "EE!" "YOU BLOODY RIPPER!" Gwen gushed audibly. As she was among her cousins, her outburst surprised Tao, who was about to high-five her. "I didn't do nothing!" her cousin protested. "Haha, Peaches, sorry, I intended that to be silent." "Gwen! Is that what I think it is?" Petra saw what she had done as well. "You got one? You and uncle Jun found one?!" Petra and Mina were both beside themselves. "No—but close enough! YES!" Gwen gave the two of them a round of high-fives, so giddy that she was having trouble expressing herself. "Congrats on the Spirit, Sis," a quiet voice rang out from behind Tao. "Oh, Percy..." Gwen felt taken aback by her brother's unyieldly propensity for misunderstandings. She had told him the truth, that they found nothing. Now, Percy was sulking. "It's complicated." "No, it's fine. I am happy for you, Sis." Percy took her hand, but his fingers had no rigidity to them; she may as well be holding flaccid Korean rice cakes. A wave of annoyance overcame her. Here she was, fighting for the honour and continued existence of the House of Song, a house that had rejected her as an 'heir' and yet her brother was moping about some immaterial detail. She blinked. _Fighting—for the House of SONG?_ D-did her grandfather rope her into the whole ordeal without her even noticing that she was now fighting for the very house whose continuation she had rejected? She turned to glare at Guo. _That conniving, sneaky, weaselly old man!_ But then Gwen saw her babulya standing beside her grandfather, and her peevish ire melted away. Klavdiya's face appeared far more relaxed than she could recall in the last few days, prideful and happy. The heart-gnawing sensation of watching her babulya losing hairs over her wayward son was a wretched sight Gwen never wanted to see again. For babulya, she would do this—not for Guo. Jun was away dealing with Ayxin; Hai was pussyfooting about; Guo was too busy trying to worm his way out of their firstborn's blunder; Percy was acting the selfish little shit; who would look out for their grandmother? She would. It was up to Gwen to protect the meagre blessings of an unfortunate mother worn threadbare by her boundless devotion to family. The Worm Wrangler of Fudan flexed her fingers. _She_ would be the champion of her babulya's fragile happiness. For Klavdiya, she would _slay Dragons._

"A wonderful match." Guo averted his eyes when Gwen turned to glare at him. The girl was uncannily mature but easily caught up in her emotions. For all her talent and her mysterious resistance to Enchantment, a pathos-driven prod in the right direction was all that was necessary to get her blood boiling. In all honesty, Guo admired Gwen's reflexive, dog-like willingness to attack anyone threatening her loved ones. His problem was that the girl counted dangerous individuals such as Schultz and De Botton among that number and that her loyalty could never be monopolised. Opposite Guo, Secretary Liu was having doubts of his own. "Yes," the man muttered. "I did not expect that. How could an offensive Elementalist tank over twenty exchanges without refreshing her guard even once? There must be something amiss with my informers." The Secretary wasn't alone in his bemusement. The same queries dominated the conversation beside and behind the two Patriarchs, with the wedding guests likewise marvelling at the supernatural rigidity of Gwen's immovable and impenetrable Shielding. "I say," a voice meditated from somewhere in the crowd. "Anyone recall the Morning Star, Magus Shultz, the Paladin of the Sydney Tower?" "What of it?" "He's a Quasi-Elementalist Offensive caster, but he possesses a hard-point Shield." "But Shultz is from Oceania. This girl's from the Song family." "Who knows, isn't the girl half-Russian?" "She's half Commonwealth?" "That's not a country-" "She looks like a full-blooded _gweilo_ to me." "No, she's from Oceania! I am sure of it!" Liu slowly turned toward Guo, an unpleasant premonition playing across his scalp. "Your granddaughter isn't… acquainted with Oceania, is she?" "No—more so JOINED at the hip. You may think of Gwen as a sister to the Morning Star, heir to the late Magister's Kilroy's Seat on the Oceania Council of Ten, and current Master of the Sydney Tower." The long and deliberate range of titles hammered away at the Patriarch. The man would have sworn and cussed but for his presence. Guo kept the mirth from reaching his mouth. Liu was a District Secretary, a stranger to foreign affairs. Though he may act as the Master of his domain, the realm outside his principality loomed, dark and dangerous, full of unknowns the Secretary could not know. Despite lording over ten million souls across the rivers and lakes of Jiangnan, the Secretary, in Guo's honest opinion, remained the idiomatic frog in the well. It has been a common disease of the Chinese since antiquity. Even the CCP, hoping for a larger slice of the pie on the global stage, suffered from this collective malady. How unfathomable someone like Gunther Shultz must seem to a man like Liu. The existence of a Mage whose name was known worldwide, whose individual capability could make or break treaties with Demi-humans, was as strange and distant as the Yinglong on the Mount. What's terrifying was that Shultz was only in his late thirties. If one considered that Radiant Mages had one of the longest natural lifespans bar healers, who would dare to anger a man like that? A man who, given time, and the right political climate, would undoubtedly assume the mantles of a Magi? What's more curious is that Liu had so many details missing from his intelligence. It seemed that whoever had ensnared the Secretary was likewise an opportunist, one who stood to gain regardless of the outcome. As for Gunther Shultz... When he first knew the girl's connection to the Sydney Tower, he weighed the possibility of sending Gwen to the North. Perhaps, her siblings-in-craft would follow their wayward sister; if a Mage of the Morning Star's calibre could lend the PLA his support on the Northern Front… But Guo had banished that fancy to the abyss, nipped the idea in the bud. The risks did not outweigh the rewards. Not that Klavdiya would have allowed it. There were lines not even he dared to cross, and his wife was one of them. "Who will be your next candidate?" Guo sipped his tea. "Your confidence may be tested yet." Liu adjusted his posture, regaining some of his composure. "So she has a Spirit? Did she receive it in the Purple Zone in Huangshan? You understood the risks of sending your son and granddaughter there, yes?" "Speak for yourself." Guo met his opponent's eyes, sensing Liu trying to wiggle his way out of the predicament. "You authorised Jun's pass." "Only to venture past the dragon pine." Liu curled his lips. "If they murdered one of the Yinglong's children for its Core—or perhaps, a great number of the Yinglong's flock, it would be a diplomatic incident of significant proportions." "Perhaps Gwen's Spirit is a goat with the lighting attribute. You can surely see how horn-headed she can be." Guo shrugged. "If the Yinglong would assault Hangzhou on behalf of goats, I'll go and negotiate with it myself." "Oh, I am confident they had quite the misadventure." Liu rapped the table with his nails. "The Anhui commander reported quite the commotion from the mountain. Lotus Peak was storming for days." "The weather on the Mount changes as often as a woman's mood." Guo chortled. "Who's the next carp on the chopping board?" Liu grunted. "It's true what they say about northerners." Liu turned back to the match. "No tears until you see the coffin, eh?" "Competing for the House of Liu, hailing from the Five-Lake Alliance, Sui Xì of Suzhou!" Gwen's third match was against a young man who'd been a part of the 'heckling' crew. She studied the man with Detect Magic as he stepped onto the stage: sensing Abjuration and Conjuration. When Sui caught her eyes, the smug Elementalist's immediate reaction was to send Gwen a cringeworthy wink, then give her a once-over with his beady eyes, like a butcher inspecting a choice cut. Gwen averted her eyes, fighting the revulsion threatening to overthrow her store of rice wine. Something about the guy made her think of swamps and sewers, and his flirtatious behaviour hardly helped matters. "Duellists, are you ready?" Magus Ly had taken up his usual residence above the duelling arena. "Ready!" "I am ready!" "BEGIN!" Gwen cranked her dial to eleven. She wasn't sure if Ariel was a Spirit, but the fact remained that Ariel could bend and redirect her Elemental Lightning, something she could use to its full potential. "Flashbang!" "Wall of Water!" Her stunning assault was caught by a sudden swell of brown, salty liquid, smothering the explosion before it could fully form. "Lightning Bolt!" "Water Shield!" "Lightning Bolt!" "Water Armour!" The wall of water grew to twice its size by the third exchange, enveloping the right side of the duelling arena. When Gwen's Lightning Bolt struck the fast-moving liquid, the plasma-induced a localised explosion of superheated steam, then diffused harmlessly as the electricity grounded itself. _Shit!_ Gwen readied a Shield in case Sui had a counterstrike ready. "Resist Elements!" The man did not attack. _You're shitting me,_ she cursed. The bastard's a turtle-specced Abjurer! But she should be glad that the bastard was only tier 4; higher chants, such as the tier 6 Greater Resist Elements, would cut her effective damage by as much as 80%. "Call Lightning!" "Warding Bolt!" She continued her assault. Gwen wondered how long it would take for the Water Abjurer to OoM or if it was possible to ionise the water to such a degree that her electrical attacks permeated the man's Shielding, electrocuting him through this triple-layered defence. "Water Missiles!" Six slivers of water, each the size of a pilum, were launched from the wall of water. The prick didn't even have to lower his Shield or his Wall! Gwen fumed. Water Mages had a versatility that few other elements could match. "Shield!" The half-hearted barrage clattered harmlessly against her barrier. Water Mages had woeful damage potential until they could command the volume and degree Richard had obtained with the help of his Undine Spirit. Speaking of her cousin, Gwen realised that Sui was what Richard aimed to be: a Utility-Shield Mage whose versatility could suit a multitude of roles within a party. "Lightning Bolt!" _ZAP—PAKI—CRACK!_ A second and third blast of ionised electricity struck the Wall of Water, evoking a profusion of Lichtenberg figures in vivid cobalt. Before her charged particles could spread, they quickly circulated back into the Elemental Plane. "Sleet Storm!" The man continued to sling mud. "Shield!" Gwen formed a semi-dome barrier above her. Rather than a hailstorm, it was more accurate to say that a localised downpour of bone-chilling water pounded down on her protective barrier. She gnashed her teeth. A turtle-specced Mage indeed! "Blast BOLT!" She channelled a good chunk of her mana into the continuous blast. After the initial explosion, her attack reached the Shield, but no further. Gwen cursed. "Stinking Cloud!" A volley of brackish water made for her Shield. _Stinking WHAT?_ Gwen reflexively chose to dodge the cannonballs. The fetid-smelling water had impressive mass, if nothing else, and Gwen wasn't sure how well her Non-Newtonian Shield dealt with such wide-area impacts. The last thing she wanted was to be drenched by an attack with the prefix "Stinking". "Dimension Door!" When she landed again, her priceless shoes splashed into algae-filled, odious liquid puddles, foul enough to turn her stomach. Her sinus first wrinkled, then wilted, assaulted by what could only be the refined fart of an ageing dog mixed with week-old prawn. Was the man attempting victory by stench? His command of the "water" elements was nothing she had ever seen before; usually, Water Mages conjured crystal-clear water from the Elemental Plane. On the other hand, Sui appeared to draw his power from the local storm drain. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. _GOD! MY SHOES!_ Gwen's mind rioted. They were self-cleaning, but GOD, the Hermès were peep-toes! And the water was getting in between her piggy-wigglies! The sensation was so revolting that her _sole_ felt crudely violated. Just as she was considering whether feeding Ariel a mote of Almudj's Essence would kill Sui outright, her opponent made his move. "Murk Ghosts!" The puddle of water, now trapped within her semi-dome Shield, suddenly came to life. Forming into dozens of flatworms about three-foot long and about two inches wide. Due to the muffling effect of the Wall of Water and her Shield, Gwen had entirely missed the Conjurer's invocation. Her Divination Sigil pinged her spine/ The warning came too late, for it was immediately answered by the sensation of something squirming about her toes. As one, the semi-translucent flatworms slid up for her unprotected body, plastering their cold and sinuous torsi onto her dress, her unprotected legs, and her feet. "FU-ARGGH!" The assault was so slimy and disgusting that Gwen instinctively let loose a blood-curdling cry natural to the fairer sex. "Ah-Nu! Strangle her! Do it now!" She heard the frantic voice of Sui calling for her blood. The worms tightened their hold. The physical sensation was like being restrained by silk, the worms were only minutely more powerful than a man, but Gwen's revulsion made her want to quit the world because they STANK. One made for her neck, while another tried to move under her skirt. _CHRIST!_ One of the fucking things just touched her— What kind of fucking magic specialises in this bullshit? Circulating her Almudj's Essence, she dug her finger into one of the flatworms to try and pry one off her thighs. She removed a length of worm about ten inches long by hand, but the rest of the damned thing split into two. SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! One of them had reached her neck. IT REEKS! Her brain was hammering at her body to do something, threatening a union strike over hostile working conditions. Gwen was reminded of Caliban's screaming, revolted victims. Was karma a bitch, like they said? Was public humiliation what Sui had hoped? She had to calm down. So what if slimy parasites were trying to dig under her skin? No big deal. She would take a hot shower later and cry it out under the bed. Her mind raced. "Dimension Door!" Gwen displaced herself to the right, allowing her body to be enveloped by electricity. A few of the worms disintegrated. The rest continued their gleeful molestation. _ARRRGH—!_ The AOE from the short-ranged teleport did not manifest from her skin but as a blast ring around her body. NO SHIT, her brain quaked. If the electric nova came from her body, it would burn away her clothes during manifestation. "Barrage!" More foul water came her way. YOU LITTLE SHIT! Gwen swore internally. To think she would be pushed to this extent by a turtle-Mage. Richard's choice of Conjuration and Abjuration with water was a broken skill set. Despite her struggling concentration, Gwen managed to Shield herself. More flatworms emerged from the displaced water. A slithering worm slid across her thigh, tightening around her calves and forming goosebumps all over her legs. By now, Gwen's scandalous dress was soaked. Its silk fabric wasn't intended to be worn _wet_ under the best of circumstances. A hush had gone out over the audience, and parents had covered their children's innocent eyes. Lord knew what the fuck the wedding guests were seeing as she stamped and squirmed, tearing out worms and throwing them against the Force Barrier. She took a deep breath. The words " _fuck it"_ flashed neon-hot across her brain. "VOID SKIN!" Gwen had wanted to avoid the most obvious solution. She became clad with midnight. A silken silence descended upon the stage. The dress was gone, consumed by the Void Skin. As for her shoes— Gwen held her breath. The peep-toe platform sandals were untouched. VIVA LA HERMÈS! Her heart sang out. Had the shoes been destroyed, somebody would have been vivisected, live on stage. But in all honesty, she was now in a killing mood. If a temperature gauge existed for how pissed she was, the bulb end would have blown several exchanges ago. The Void Skin masked her features, but its protection consumed excessive vitality when defending its caster. Her Almudj's Essence protected her mana conduits from manifesting Void, but not from the expenditure. Tapping into Ayxin's scale, she willed the Draconic-Essence into her mana channels. Dragon Fear radiated from her in torrents, blessedly dulled by the Force Barrier protecting the audience. "Hiiieeeeee!" The excess water displaced about her body suddenly formed into a single pool of collated, murky liquid, then promptly fled for the Wall of Water. A FUCKING SPIRIT! Gwen felt a sudden gladness. So it was a Spirit and not Sui. But a flatworm? Who the hell slays flatworms? Those things were harmless bottom-feeders that consume algae and grime. How many flatworms would a guy need to kill before one drops a Core? How many Cores before there's a Spirit? Could it be that Sui's Clan 'raised' flatworms? If nothing else, she had to admire their tenacity. No wonder the guy gave off a slimy, smarmy, sticky feeling. But enough of that. She was in a precariously shameful position now. It was the very same dilemma Alesia had endured. Either wear the same elementally attuned uniform day in and day out. Or risk exposure on the off-chance she had to assume the form of a flame-clad avatar. That, or drop upwards of ten thousand HDMs on outfits imported from European Enchantment-Workshops. A rip-roaring clamour exploded across the observing audience, filling the courtyard with utterances of disbelief and shock. Gwen quickly doubled checked her person, ensuring that her Void-coverage had sufficiently preserved her modesty. "She was a VOID Mage?!" "Dual-element!" "The Songs have a dual-quasi-Elementalist?" "What the hell are the Lius doing?" "I don't think she's wea—" "Since when did Fudan have a Void-caster?!" "That's the one? Who'd have thought it was a Song?" _Had she not earlier used a Void Shield?_ It must be the Flashbang, Gwen realised. With the amount of power she had put into it, the whole courtyard would have been blinded; furthermore, she had immediately dispelled the Void Shield as the tenebrous membrane blocked LOS. By now, her Dragon Fear had worn thin. While she took the liberty to attune to her squid-ink attire, her opponent took the same opportunity to meditate. Her opponent was a turtle, and Lulan had already shown her the universal weakness of Water Mages. If Richard couldn't pressurise the flow of his Water Shield enough to ward off Lulan's sword strikes, then she needn't worry that Sui could ward off her Caliban strike. She would have to play it by ear. "CALIBAN!" Gwen picked a point somewhere behind the Wall of Water. "Anything but Stag!" "Watery Tendrils!" Gwen knew better than to let Sui's crushing manifestation mug her person. The Void Skin would absorb water like crazy and tank her vitality. She expertly Dimension Doored out of the tendril's range, sundering the brackish appendages with a burst of electricity. Meanwhile, her Caliban sneak attack became offset by a clamorous burst of horror from the audience, screeching at the sight of her Lovecraftian Familiar. Sui turned, took one look at the twisted fiend, suppressed a gag, and then commanded a dozen tendrils to intercept the obsidian beast. Among cries of 'Void Beast!' and 'Mao!', Sui's Flatworm Spirit enveloped Caliban in a watery cocoon, lifting it from the floor and suspending it in mid-air. Gwen recognised the spell as 'Watery Prison', one of Richard's favourite ways to abuse Lea's affinity. "SHAA!" Caliban's empathic link informed her that it wished to transform. "Do it!" Caliban still had a portion of vitality from its consumption of a dozen Draconic-deer, giant carps, belligerent goats, and Merfolks. Unlike Gwen herself, its abilities did not require an excessive quantity of life force, at least not yet. "Use your reserves!" Gwen mentally urged her Familiar, praying that Caliban understood her meaning. During their poaching adventure, Caliban had grown gluttonous thanks to the abundance of biomass. Caliban's carapace split. Its size ballooned. The watery prison made by the flat-worm Spirit burst like a ripe sausage as Caliban leapt. A fresh wave of antipathy visibly spread through the audience. The Force Barriers hindered the aura of vertigo. However, it couldn't shelter their eyes from the aberrant form of a serpentine carp creature with two pink-purple tentacles for whiskers, possessing no face but a two-foot-wide disk of teeth in the guise of a lamprey's mouth. Caliban carp slithered through the water. "Mao!" "Bleurgh!" "Dreadful! HORRIBLE SIGHT!" "I YIELD! I YIE-!" The moment Caliban crashed into Sui's Shield and its corrosive, void-tinged slime penetrated his water barrier, Sui knew it was all over. If he attempted to hold out, Mao knows what would have happened when that thing reached his person. But surrendering was one thing. Stopping Caliban was another. Gwen's Familiar balled into the Water Mage with the force of an out-of-control, hydroplaning mini-van. Half a second later, a Wall of Force was erected. Sui struck the opposite wall before sliding into the floor like a sack of half-empty potatoes. The Wall of Water was the first to dissipate. Then the Water Armour. Then the Shield. Were it not for the fact that the Water-Abjurer had three layers of protection, Gwen was sure Sui would now be lamenting the absent half of his upper body. With the conjured water suddenly dissipating, Caliban fell to the floor. After a resounding 'splat!' it began to writhe like a landed eel, splashing its grey goo all over, sizzling the Force Barrer with its void-tinged slime. "VICTOR - GWEN SONG!" Magus Ly finally announced the result. Gwen leapt from the platform before the crowd could recover. As a distraction, she left Caliban gloating over the terrified young man. "Shaa-Shaa!" Caliban began to sing. The crowd went wild with cries of 'Mao!' and 'Disgusting!' 'That's not edible, is it?' and 'Why doesn't it have a face?' "Petra! Mina! Peaches!" Gwen had bigger fish to fry. "On it!" "I got you covered!" "I CAN SEE YOUR—" Petra materialised an oversized robe. Mina likewise had a towel ready to wrap around their cousin. Gwen slid out of her Void-Skin and straight into the awaiting attires before activating her next spell. Petra kicked Tao aside. "Nice save! Dimension Door!" Gwen was gone in a burst of silvery Conjuration. A scream came from the women's bathroom. The water closet wasn't as unoccupied as Gwen had hoped. A moment later, a terrified woman ran from the door, pants around her ankles. As a private residence, the guest bathrooms did not possess cubicles. "SORRY!" Gwen's muffled voice was barely audible above the din. Upon the elevated platform, Caliban de-materialised with a final 'Shaa!' Watching the girls falling about in their celebratory joviality, Guo tempered the cadence of his breathing. When the worm Spirit had almost taken his granddaughter, his heart had skipped a beat. However, his silent outbreak of arrhythmia was nothing compared to his opponent's wild and buckling ride. When Sui managed to ambush Gwen, Liu grinned. When Gwen panicked, the Secretary chuckled, revealing his teeth. When Caliban appeared, Liu half stood, then sat, groaning. The man's amateurish display was beginning to grate on what little patience the Chair of the Confidential Communications Committee had left. "A close match," Guo stated mildly. "Excuse me." Liu rose from his seat. "Take your time. Gwen's changing outfits." From his body language, Guo could see that the Secretary was ready to double down on his wager. The next match was likely going to be the last. The Lius had to demonstrate a show of force, or else they would lose face and influence. A list of potential candidates scrolled through Guo's head. A few worried him, but they were either too senior or already deployed at the Front. Klavdiya approached her husband as Patriarch Liu made for the east wing. "Guo, perhaps this is enough. Gwen—" "Gwen will be fine," Guo replied with confidence. "The reputation and fame she gained will contribute to her IIUC selection. She has little to lose besides her pride, but we have staked much." "I am worried." "Worry not." Guo patted her hand. "You're here, aren't you? She'll be fine." "We'll owe her so much after tonight." "That we do. Next year, assuming Gwen applies, I will call in a favour from the Central Education Committee. Magister Guang owes me for the Nantong incident back in 93'." Guo waited a moment, then relayed the main reason for his changed opinion of the girl. "Look, there's something else. Jun told me that he wanted Gwen to inherit his half of the amulet—if and when the time comes." "That's…" Klavdiya searched the crowd for her absent sons. Not finding either of them, she turned back to her husband. Guo rapped his knuckles on the wooden chair, warding off the portentous evil that had escaped his lips. "I can give her anything, but not that. Jun is too close to the girl. Even knowing the dilemma, he chose her." Klavdiya thought of Jun's hasty Message right before he had Teleported away. "Ah-Jun is too willful," Gwen's babulya declared with a wounded voice. "I don't know if Gwen truly needs the Amulet, but if the time comes—" "One can only hope Jun changes his mind or that Gwen overcomes the need," Guo interrupted Klavidya, ruminating on thoughts his wife could never genuinely know. There were good reasons why Gwen could never inherit. Indeed, if a girl heir should learn the secret rites of utilising the amulet, would she teach it to her daughter, her daughter's daughter? Would that daughter possess the last name Song? More importantly, what happens when a mother knows their child NEEDED the Songs' Necromantic secret for her kids to live? What happens when more than two drought-cursed children possess the means to use the amulet, but only two halves can be shared? Which branch shall live, and which shall wither? Would a father or mother risk all to save their child, even if it meant the murdering of kith and kin? Could Gwen watch Qīn and Hai's future child die in slow agony, drained by the negative energy in their body? Perhaps she could. Maybe she could not. Void, Lightning, Draconic Essence, egotism, pride and a desperate desire for validation; the internal forces driving the girl forward were powerful indeed. For now, all Guo could do was petition the ancestors with an earnest wish. "Please let Hai's child be mundane." Or else—calamity would befall the House of Song.

"Wonsoo," Secretary Liu called for his great-nephew. "Grand-Uncle," came a reply from the dim interior of a large bed chamber. The low voice issued forth from a face with an unkempt beard blanketing the speaker's mouth and chin. Likewise, although the man was in silk robes, his lounging on the divan and the bedraggled state of his undress suggested an undutiful slovenliness. "Light!" Sectary Liu illuminated the room. To his displeasure, the once pristine studio was now a mess of discarded clothing. Feeling a throbbing in his temples, the Secretary regarded his nephew. Wonsoo Liu was a born prodigy, the product of purposeful lineage. Unlike the Clans, the Su-Hang Houses did not possess the bloodline diversity to preserve Elemental Affinity safely. As such, they drew their talents from a pool of local aristocrats, with many descending from the dynastic Houses banished to the Frontier by the CCP after the Cultural Revolution. They had been scholar-bureaucrats in the age before the Communists reforged the social strata of China, possessing enormous ambitions for returning to a period when the Confucian Gentry held dominion over the lowest farmer to the child Emperor. Today, theirs was a common enough narrative. Dispossessed gentry, such as the Lius, existed throughout China and its territories. For the scholar-bureaucrats, the European Spellcraft Revolution was a disaster of existential proportions. Within two decades, their monopoly on the pedagogy of magic, the source of their influence and the ladder that elevated them above the masses, had been pulled out from under them. First came the peasant rebellions. Then came the Communist Revolution. After that, the threat of the Undead. Then a new status quo descended. New China did not need the old gentry, for the CCP elevated hundreds of thousands of Mages from NoM stock. The new state desired quantity to fill its administrative, manufacturing, territorial, and military ambitions—not prodigies. But that didn't stop the scholar-gentry, who had mastered patience, subservience, and subversion for two millennia. When the Song Dynasty fell, they went on to serve the Horse Lords. When the Ming Emperor wiped out the Mongol Demi-humans, the gentry immediately prostrated before the new world order. When the Manchurian Tribesmen took the heavenly throne from the decrepit bloodline of the Mings, they ingratiated themselves into the new dynastic government. With the CCP, it would be no different. What the scholar-gentry possessed was knowledge to rule, to keep the proletariat dumb and pliable, and to ingratiate themselves as the bureaucratic sword arm of those sitting on society's apex. In time, they forged alliances, controlled government sectors, and sent their feelers into the CCP and the PLA, into the Universities, the manufactoriums and the military tribunals. That and the Gentry refined their Spellcraft and bloodlines. Wonsoo was the product of that particular ambition. A Para-elemental Mud-Mage. A rare existence among rare existences. A Conjurer and Abjurer, trained from birth by the best instructors, fed more precious Wildland floral and fauna than most NoMs have eaten rice bowls. At only twenty-seven, Wonsoo had already made a name for himself on the Northern Front. A young man whose future was immeasurable and restrained only by time. It was with serendipity that the young man was even in Hangzhou. After a Purge mission had gone awry, he had been given time for rest and relaxation. Paranoid that the PLA would send his nephew toward riskier missions, Liu requested that Wonsoo "sow his wild oats" before setting off again. Had the Song girl been pliable and obedient, Liu would have entertained the notion of setting up the two for what could potentially be an incredibly potent union. If the girl could give birth to three or four children, there were bound to be quasi or para-elemental talents among that number. But Guo had refused his best efforts at an inter-house alliance, and now Liu must demonstrate to the old dog that the millennia-old gentry of Jiangnan wasn't just for show. It was almost sickening how talented the man's gweilo granddaughter was, especially considering the common stock from which she emerged. The Songs were an old House, but they weren't scholars nor bureaucrats. In Liu's esteemed opinion, the House of Song, originating from Hubei, was akin to peasants. Peasants elevated by the Communists. The very thought was an insult. "You have been watching the match, yes?" Wonsoo nodded. "What do you think of the girl?" "A bother," Wonsoo confessed readily. "That Familiar of hers is bad news. Mao knows what other forms it can shift into." "Can you do it, though?" Wonsoo grunted. "Grand-Uncle, I don't mean to be forward - but I am a Lieutenant in the PLA's Elite Northern 11th Battalion—and I'll be promoted to Captain by the end of the year. Do you think I should be duelling girls too young for me to date?" Liu's jaws stiffened. "Why, you want to date the girl?" "Don't be ridiculous." "She's a lovely thing." "Stop it..." "I've sent you a few promising candidates, didn't I? Where are the girls?" "Sent them home." Wonsoo shrugged his shoulders. "I did my duty if you must know. Now I am trying to get some sleep. Between that and the wedding, I've had a busy week." "Your laziness is legendary," Liu chided his nephew. As a Mud Mage, slothfulness was parred for the course. "Those girls are counting on you. A child with your talent would set them up for life." "Being a father is a bother as well..." Wonsoo lamented. Liu hid his growing irritation. "I am out of options here, Ah-Won. Tell me one thing, can you beat the girl or not?" he asked the only question that mattered. "For the House, for Jiangnan, I need the Songs under my thumb." "Yes." Wonsoo yawned. "Good. Also, use this for the Familiar." Liu passed Wonsoo a spell scroll. "This is?" "A tier 7 Banishment—it'll deal with her Familiar." "I don't need it." Wonsoo pushed the scroll aside. "Too much bother." "You will." Liu threw the scroll at his nephew's chest. "Activate it before the match. It's got a trigger algorithm built in. You're an Abjurer. No one would notice." Wonsoo took a deep breath before exhaling deliberately. "Whatever you say, Grand-Uncle." "The girl can be yours; if you prevail. I can make it happen," Liu promised. Wonsoo regarded the Clan's Patriarch. "Uncle, as a military man, I am both revolted and impressed by your pragmatism. I must also remind you that you dragged me to marriage meetings before this. Now, you want me to beat down a lovely girl and humiliate her. These reasons are not why I am here." "Finish this, and you can return to your beloved base." Liu declared. His nephew appeared to be dozing off. "Pay attention!" Liu slapped Wonsoo's knees. "I am counting on you, Ah-Won!" Gwen emerged from the ladies' room wearing her old skin suit from her Singapore trip, overlaid with cargo shorts and a tee. For her next match, she wasn't going to take the chance that Void Skin was off the menu and risk unnecessary exposure again. Murmurs of disappointment and disapproval rose from the crowd when she returned fully clad from neck to toe. Gwen resisted the urge to give the wedding guests the bird. "Okay, I am ready to rock." She stretched out her hammies and calves, flexing the stiff leather of her combat boots. Her jungle set was elementally attuned, though the build quality was strictly Frontier. Her hair had been tied into a thick ponytail, double knotted to avoid whipping her own eyes should the combat require acrobatic manoeuvres. From across the courtyard, Liu returned with his next combatant. "That's a 'young' Mage, is it?" Gwen looked over at Petra "He looks old, not from our generation." Petra shook her head. "Mina, any ideas?" Mina had never seen the man. Her opponent looked nothing like the clean-shaven young men she had met. The Chinese, particularly the Southerners, favoured sharp brows and intense eyes with clean-shaven faces. The new guy appeared as though possessed by the spirit of "The Dude" from The Big Lebowski, only with dark hair and an Asian face. He had a stooped gesture and yawned as he walked. Everything about him seemed tired and devoid of life. Even the man's hair lacked vitality, plastering his face in oily, disorderly locks. _Was she going to fight a hobo now?_ The Secretary conversed with Magus Ly, who glanced up at the 'young man' with an expression of surprise. "Our NEXT and FINAL challenger!" Ly returned to the arena before announcing the next duel. "From the House of Liu, Magus Wonsoo Liu." "Gwen." A Message spell from Guo blossomed beside her ear. "You'll need to use every trick for this one. Wonsoo is an Abjurer and a Conjurer who uses mud. It's a terrible Elemental matchup for you. Please don't stay in one spot for too long, and DON'T let him trap you. Remain mobile at all times. All I can tell you is that his signature move is entrapment magic, not unlike Watery Tomb, but virtually impossible to escape. He doesn't have a Spirit, but his Affinity is at least a 5." Gwen nodded in her grandfather's direction before turning her attention toward this unassuming opponent. As Wonsoo wandered into the arena, the crowd began to protest. "How is this a fair fight?" "Wonsoo's a Captain now, isn't he?" "No, he's still a lieutenant." "Didn't Wonsoo go to the Northern Front?" "Still, for him to be back now, the Patriarch sure put some thought into this." Petra took Gwen by the arm. "Mud is a bad matchup for you," Petra affirmed Guo's advice. "However, Mud-Mages are weakest during the first few spell exchanges. The longer you fight, the worse it will be." "I can intimidate dat bitch if yo like," Tao proposed, scratching his head. "If he is a good Abjurer, U gonna be in for a long grind, Gwen." "I concur. You should alpha-strike," Petra insisted. "Don't stop until you're spell-fatigued or OOM, or both. That's how I would do it. If the guy's capable of continuing after that—forfeit." Gwen surmised the situation and found herself in agreement with her family. She was running tier 6 lightning. She had a VMI of over 200. And she had a trump card as well. Two of them. Caliban's Horror Stag form. And Ariel's Barbanginy, which she dared not use for two reasons: one, she would like to save it for a life or death situation like Golos, and two, she had no idea what Barbanginy plus tier 6 affinity would do. Could Ariel even control something at that level of power? What if her AOE shattered the portable Force Barriers and maimed the wedding guests? Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. "Alright, wish me luck!" "You won't need it!" Mina called out with confidence. Petra thumbed her Storage Ring and took account of her spells. "I've got healing spells from Babulya!" "OI! YOU!" Tao called out not to Gwen but to her opponent. "DICK-SOO! YOU KNOW WHO MY DAD IS?! LET ME TELL YOU MANG, YOU- OW!! Damn it, Mina! I am shit-talking here!" "ZIP IT, Peaches! Gwen will be fine." For the fourth time, Gwen stepped into the duelling box. His opponents stood a little shorter than she did. His stance, however, suggested he was completely relaxed. If anything, the man reminded Gwen of someone browsing the university's canteen menu. "Look, no hard feelings." Wonsoo caught Gwen's attention with a wave of his hand. "You're young; life will have lots of other opportunities." "I'll be the judge of that," Gwen riposted tartly. "Do your worst." "I always do my worst." The man appeared amused by her enthusiasm. "Let me guess; you're the valedictorian who always does her best?" Gwen's temple throbbed. It would appear that she and Wonsoo were indeed poorly matched. "BEGIN!" Magus Ly wasted no time in getting the show on the road. "Dimension Door!" Gwen decided to take Petra's advice to heart. She would close in with an AOE, then dance around her opponent. An offensive barrage from start to finish. "Shield!" The Mud-Mage's reaction, unlike his languished mannerism, was instantaneous. Gwen appeared beside the Abjurer, triggering a burst of tenebrous ink. Her Void matter splashed onto the Mud-Mage's barrier, though her consumptive motes of mana corroded no more than an inch of Wonsoo's considerably impervious semi-dome surface. "Void Bolt!" _HISS—!_ To her surprise, the impact failed to penetrate the weakened barrier. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Wonsoo, too, appeared to be surprised by Gwen's offensive potential. “Terracotta Guardians!” Two semi-opaque chunks of mana broke off from his enormous, fractured shielding. Gwen didn't need Divination to know she had underestimated the Mud-Mage's defence. "Dimension Door!" She reappeared to the man's right, about five meters away. Her lightning burst caught one of the golem-things as it emerged. "Lightning Bolt!" A line of arm-thick lightning surged across all three targets, with Wonsoo caught in the middle. The foremost Guardian exploded, while the further one escaped with missing limbs. "Mud Slide!" "Dimension Door!" Gwen escaped the conic, AOE barrage. She revved up an Elemental Sphere. "Marching Mud!" The viscous mud mana disbursed by her magic began to collate. Be it the mud from his Shield, his Sleet-Storm, or his summoned "Guardians", they all began to form into vaguely shaped humanoid elementals. A shot of adrenaline straightened Gwen's spine. _SHIT._ To think her opponent combined the resilience of an Earthen Mage with the regenerative versatility of a Water Mage. "Elemental Sphere!" With tier 6 affinity, her imploding-then-exploding sphere encompassed the entirety of the second half of the duelling area. "Caliban!" Before the secondary explosion began, Gwen summoned her nether-worm to her side. As her serpent materialised, her spell reached its second stage—a radial burst in the form of an electric nova. The resulting energy was enough to destroy most of the 'Terracotta Soldiers', though Wonsoo's 'mud' had now spread everywhere, plastering every surface. _Fudgesickles!_ Gwen felt the engendering of a terrible premonition. The man's Mud Shield smoked with tears and rips, but ripples of fresh elemental mud instantly replaced the damaged exterior. Furthermore, when Wonsoo exchanged the volume-metric ratio of water and dirt, it became translucent. _Clap—Clap—Clap—_ "Not bad." Wonsoo grinned, striking his palms in appreciation. "You're a greater prodigy than I, that's for sure." Was the man mocking her? "You're not too shabby yourself," Gwen retorted. "CALIBAN!" "SCREEEEE!" Caliban sped toward the Mud Mage as though launched from a catapult, transforming halfway into its spider form. Gwen figured that since the man's shield was unusually resilient, Caliban would perform best if it harassed the guy while she loaded up on buffs and turret spells to up her damage per spell exchange. "Barrage!" More conjured balls of semi-translucent slime flew her way. Weary of what had occurred with the Water Mage, Gwen immediately erected her semi-dome shield. The mud splattered all over, obscuring her line of sight. Meanwhile, Caliban raked the Mud Mage's Shield with a flurry of sword strikes from its forelimbs. "Mao, what a fantastic beastie." Wonsoo whistled. "Almost like a Shambling Horror crossed with an Arachne." "Warding Bolt!" "Call Lightning!" Gwen, meanwhile, loaded up on persistent Conjuration attack spells. For all his resilience, the Mud Mage appeared to cast one or two spells every time she managed three or four. If so, the man must be used to opponents going OOM long before penetrating his defences. Hoping to test Wonsoo's limits, she began a chant for Ball Lightning, simultaneously giving Caliban a mental order to play interference until her incantation finished. The Mud-Mage took a step backwards. _Was he bracing for impact?_ Gwen pondered. "Jump!" To her surprise, Wonsoo utilised a low-tier Transmutation spell. The man launched into the air like a human cannonball, catching Caliban by surprise as he balled into her creature, Mud-Shield and all. "Adhesion!" Gwen almost lost her spell when Caliban slammed into the soft and wobbly shield like a cockroach caught in a sticky trap. Her Familiar squirmed and screeched, crying out "Shaa!" as it attempted to free itself. Did he only use three first-tier spells disabled Caliban?! Gwen felt her confidence falter. The versatility of the Mud Mage was ludicrous. _Shield._ _Jump._ _Adhere._ To think someone could defeat _Her Thing_ by using a human-sized cockroach trap. John Carpenter would be spewing. Gwen was four incantations from finishing her Ball Lighting when Wonsoo turned his attention toward her. "Jump!" The Mud Mage charged her, using Caliban's stuck body as a battering ram. "YOU'RE SHITTING ME!" Gwen swore. She had no time to finish the spell; even if she did, Caliban would be the one tanking her explosions. "Dimension Door!" With another "Jump", Wonsoo reached her within a second or so. Confined within the arena, Gwen was incapable of using the 100-meter-plus range she had exploited in her fight with Golos. "Caliban!" Her fiendish Familiar turned back into its serpentine form, secreting grey goo all over its obsidian carapace to free itself from the adhesive shield. She was slipping up. Gwen knew this and yet had little recourse. Her reactive tactics painted her as a monster hunter, while her reactions are unused to catching Mages off-guard. Unlike Magical Creatures, a Mage-Duel was akin to a game of Go; one had to plan three moves, where no action was performed solely for the act alone. "Barrage!" Gwen resumed a defensive stance, warding off the globs with her non-newtonian shield. "Lightning Bolt!" Her lightning arc obliterated a few mud clumps, though the rest splattered over her shield. "Adhere!" What remained of the sticky mud Gwen had teleported into suddenly grew liquid and slime-like, glueing her feet to the floor. "Void Skin!" Gwen fumed she had to use such a dangerously double-edged spell so soon. The sticky slime fell away, sizzling as her vitality-draining body armour absorbed the offensive substance. Her t-shirt and shorts disappeared, but at least she had her skin suit. Caliban harassed Wonsoo with a few tentacles, punching small holes in the man's semi-liquid shield even as they self-replenished. But the momentary gap created by Caliban gave Gwen an idea. Do Mud-Shields have a convenient _crack_ through which Caliban could slither? She could get her Familiar to burrow downwards in the wild, but they were surrounded by Force-Barriers while in the arena. Furthermore, from what she could discern, the man had restrained himself to low-tier spells while she had been nuking the guy with tier 3 Lightning Bolts and above. Perhaps the man was trying to disgrace her as she had the Fire and Air Mage, but if they kept going like this, even with her massive mana pool, she would be OOM before long. _Crack!_ _Thunk!_ "Lightning Bolt!" _Splat!_ Gwen's Warding Bolt, Call Storm, and Lightning Bolt barraged Wonsoo's Shield again, turning a portion of it opaque before the Mud Mage allowed it to fall from his barrier. The process reminded Gwen of reactive tank armour, only these grew back. "Ready to give up?" the man called out from across the room. "There's no shame in it. We're not well-matched, and I've got almost a decade on you. Don't push yourself too hard! Old men talk and drink their tea while young folks like us are given the butcher cleaver to carve each other up." "Lightning Bolt!" Another chunk of shielding fell away from Wonsoo's shield. Gwen felt her frustration buzzing like a hive of angry bees. "Almost forgot about that... you high-affinity Lightning Mages, always tripping up on your ego." Wonsoo sighed. "Barrage!" More mud built up around Gwen's Shield, hinting at more dire circumstances. Wonsoo's accurate assessment of her mood pissed her off. She suspected the hobo-looking prick was trying to undermine her determination. If so, all Wonsoo had achieved was piling fuel on her bushfire. It was time to up the ante. She recalled what Alesia had once told her: if your opponent's defence appeared impervious, change gears. She could target the environment, their defence spell, and do whatever was necessary to expose a chink in the armour. An opportunity always presented itself, for no such thing as a perfect defence existed, only insufficiently applied offence. As an anecdote, her Sister-in-craft professed to never Fireball a Mermen Water Priest when collapsing the building on top of them would do just fine. As for her immediate dilemma... Her Warding Bolt and Call Storm fired every other interval, tinging her mana channels before they activated. The man's shield was reactive, meaning there was a play she could make if she were willing to put herself at risk. "Caliban," Gwen mentally commanded her Familiar. "Slip in when you get the chance." "Shaaa!" _CRACK—BOOM—_ Her Conjuration spells fired their payload. "Barrage!" Wonsoo was building the density of Mud-mana around her, readying a finisher. According to her grandfather, it was likely an entombment-style AOE. Gwen timed her assault for the split-second the Mud Mage was distracted by her bolts. "Elemental Sphere!" Her vitality dropped like a stone. A blob of tenebrous darkness appeared just behind the semi-opaque mud clumps, forming a phenomenon akin to a micro-blackhole against Wonsoo's Shield. Having expected another Lightning blast, Wonsoo's eyes narrowed just before the dark dot imploded, rapidly expanding into an all-consuming ball of jet-black, swirling ink. "Caliban!" Caliban leapt into the void created by the exploding sphere. 'Whomp!' The secondary explosion triggered. A Void-nova rang out, a dark disk splashing against the sides of the Force Barrier. As one, the audience retreated. The wedding guests fell atop one another to find some cover. Overwhelmed and overcome by a sudden sensation of vertigo. The Force-Barriers held, but the visual impact of the attack amplified its metaphysical stimuli. Secretary Liu shot up from his chair. "Guo! You! Y-You've been keeping something of this magnitude from the PLA?" Guo sipped his cold tea, frowned, and motioned for a servant to refill it. The pale-faced servant obliged with a trembling hand. Liu recalled a vid-cast attached to the report he had received—particularly the effects of the Void Mana—a dark lightning that consumed rather than electrified the target. But the Fung's intelligence had mentioned nothing of the fact that VOID could be used with Signature Spells such as Elemental sphere, nor how absurdly devastating the attack could be. Liu's back became drenched with cold sweat. Nothing better happen to Wonsoo, or else there will be blood. Elevated on the stage, the tenebrous burst of ink faded. The audience slowly came to their senses. A clay semi-dome Shield remained in the duelling arena. Wonsoo Liu was presumably inside, safe from the Void-empowered Elemental Sphere. "Where's the Familiar?" a spectator's voice broke through the silence. "The Void-Beast, I mean." A hundred pairs of horrified eyes converged on the muddy dome. _SUCCESS!_ Gwen mentally punched the air as Caliban slipped between the gap that was created. As she had suspected, the self-replenishing mud-Shield had the same problem as Richard's Shield of Water: it could be disrupted when an equal or greater force was applied. Of course, she didn't have the force, but she could 'disappear' enough of the Shield for Caliban to pierce. Cloaked with its Void-tinged goo and filled with Void-matter, Caliban should be impervious to the Void-blast generated by her spell. As the orb erupted, she could sense Caliban striking the raw mana below the elemental ooze, she had held her breath, anticipating failure—then confirmation arrived from her Mongolian Deathworm. "Do it now!" Gwen willed Caliban to intimidate the Mud-Mage, maybe take a nip out of the man if he refused to yield, though her Familiar should take care that its blow wasn't fatal. Caliban landed with a plop, faced its opponent—then shifted into its centipede form. _Gotcha!_ Gwen couldn't help but grin smugly, happy that her spontaneous plan superseded her expectations. Then she stumbled. There was no warning from her Divination Sigil. Whatever happened, it wasn't targeted at her. From standing tall, she was suddenly freefalling. It took Gwen a split second to catch herself, dropping to one knee as the feedback of losing her Familiar washed over her. Caliban was gone—banished by a counterspell, back into its pocket dimension, incapable of re-materialising anywhere between an hour to a day, depending on the tier of the expulsion. A forced 'unsummon' had only happened once before in all the time Gwen had fought other Mages. When Xiao Huyi ambushed Petra and herself in the Hengsha Dungeon, the young Master had used some Clanner gobbledygook to send Caliban packing. The jubilation of victory bled from Gwen's systems as though Wonsoo had opened a vein. The crowd began to clamour in confusion as she spat out a mouthful of Maotai-infused bile. Thankfully, the expulsion cleared her head. The Mud Shield collapsed. A guilty-looking Wonsoo stood in front of her. "Sorry." The Mud-Magus' chest rose and fell. "That caught me by surprise." Gwen picked herself from the floor, her bosoms likewise heaving. "So, call it a tie?" The man scratched his head. "You can't win, and I'd feel guilty if I won now." _Was he taunting her?_ Gwen wondered if the man was as thick as molasses. Why hadn't Wonsoo taken the opportunity of her disorientation to floor her? Was it to keep her on the back foot? A truce? Or a bluff? Either way, she couldn't quit with a straight flush in her left hand. "We continue," Gwen declared. Wonsoo scowled, clearly irritated. He looked around the arena, saw the lead-coloured face of his Patriarch, then turned back toward the teenage girl standing thirty feet away. "You're not making this easy on yourself." The man's voice took on a tone of condescending criticism. "Well, tough luck. Life is hard," Gwen riposted with a catty twang. The Mud Mage snorted. "Very well, ladies first—that's how you Westerns do it, right?" Gwen took no heed of the Magus' mockery. She had another familiar and another means of breaking through the man's barrier. "Warding Bolt!" "Call Storm!" "Mud Amour!" The Mud Mage became encased in semi-opaque globs of mana that flowed around his body, levitating him into the air. From her point of view, it seemed as though the man had become suspended in a vaguely-humanoid ooze. _Crack!_ "Lightning Bolt!' _THUNK!_ Three chunks of the Mage's liquid erupted, and the resultant electricity grounded itself, ionising the barriers on the floor. The man finished his invocation. "March of the Terracotta!" By now, the room had been thoroughly splattered by the translucent mud. To Gwen's dismay, the clumps of the stuff which had formed here and there now transformed into little mud-men. The impromptu army then sprang from the floor and began to converge on her position. When two or more mud-men met, they formed into slightly larger variations that reminded Gwen of claymation. "Dimension Door!" Her vitality was holding up, but Gwen had to use her health sparingly. The AOE Void-burst from her short-ranged Teleportation spell cleared the space she'd landed, affording Gwen a renewed appreciation for the Signature Spell her Master had left her. "Ariel!" "EE—ee!" Gwen summoned her second Familiar. Fighting while partnered with her Familiars was now second nature to her, so much so that the moment Caliban was Banished, she felt incomplete, frustrated, and furious. It was as though she was made to fight with an arm tied behind her back. A meter above her head, Ariel materialised, though not in the way that she'd expected. Where the marten usually performed a twist before landing with a flourish, it emerged directly in mid-air. A strange hush fell over her audience, including the Mud Mage. "Eeee?" Her familiar haughtily surveyed its surroundings, whipping its bushy, fan-like tail. Upon its head were two elongated stag horns, branching out before spiralling into sharp tips. Its mongoose face had elongated, taking on a strange hybrid appearance that was neither mammalian nor Draconic but something in-between. Two tendril feelers struck out from where its whiskers used to be in the guise of a carp or a catfish, and Ariel's new pale-blue fur shimmered with a strange pattern that resembled fish scales. Around its neck grew its old pure-white marten coat, giving it a faux mane. Most importantly, its front paws were two maned hooves, while its back legs were predatory claws from its original body. "Is that a Kirin?" a voice in the crowd whispered audibly. A murmur radiated through the crowd. "Horn of a stag, the scale of carp, the beard of a catfish, hooves and a fish's tail with a lion's mane." "Well, if it looks like a Kirin, sounds like—" "EEEE! EEEee!" Ariel turned its handsome, whiskered jowl toward Gwen, demanding validation. Its Master was enraptured with equal surprise and suspense. Gwen knew Ariel wasn't a Kirin. She would bloody well know if her marten was a Kirin, It was a Lightning-Mongoose that ate an Eland antelope's core, a Draconic Stag's core, and a Draconic carp's core. Ariel had taken on some faux-Kirin traits, _sure_ , but they were superficial, possessing no ability. A true Kirin, according to her research, could Command Weather, Plane-Shift, Shape-Shift, use Telepathy and Illusion at will, and speak. Her marten-creature was restricted to "EE-ee", face nuzzling, and shooting lightning. "Hear that cry?" a voice ratified the crowd's presupposition with complete incompetence. "A true Kirin neighs like a horse, this is a young Kirin, so it goes 'Eeeee…'" Gwen felt like she should thank the bullshitter personally. "Leader's ghost, that's amazing." "Holy shit, the girl killed a Kirin and absorbed its Core?" "Maybe she found a young one?" "Maybe she's a Mythic Whisperer?" "Most people would be dead." "They eat human flesh, you know, like Dragons." "An adult Kirin could obliterate Hangzhou by itself." "Oh, Mao…" Liu turned to Guo with his mouth open, all composure thrown to the five winds. The Regional Administrator was visibly trembling. "ARE YOU ALL INSANE?" her grandfather's foe blurted out. "YOUR SON WENT AND KILLED A KIRIN FOR YOUR GRANDDAUGHTER?!"

Gwen watched as her opponent put up his hands, motioning for her to look instead to her elders. Equally weary and wary, Gwen instructed Ariel to keep an eye on her opponent while she turned to Guo and Liu. "Ee-ee!" Ariel flittered through the air, swishing its tail and twirling its prehensile whiskers. Pointing its buttocks toward Wonsoo, it wagged its tail tauntingly. Gwen reached out with a hand to stroke the creature's mane, simultaneously materialising a block of raw HDM crystal. Ariel took the opportunity to fly around its Master in a figure-eight, tickling her face. When it passed her outstretched hand, it nipped the crystal gingerly from her fingers and crushed the mana-rich material in its jaws, using the second whisker as a grasping tentacle. Below, the audience watched, mesmerised. Besides the livid Secretary Liu, Gwen's grandfather had taken on a contemplative expression. The appearance of the "Kirin" had caught him flat-footed as well. The corner of the ageing Chairman's eyes creased as he divided his attention between Gwen and the Familiar, his irises glowing subtly with Divination, unsure of what to make of their present circumstance. The Kirin was a mythical creature tied to the Song's history. The Amulet that his sons shared was said to be crafted from the Core of one such being their ancestor had slain. The Analects of Song Rou had stated that due to their progenitor's transgression against the heavens, their family bloodline had been cursed with drought—resulting in male heirs awakening with Salt or Ash, elements that would render them infertile. However, after many years of cultivation, the progenitor uncovered a way to circumvent the affliction by utilising the Core of the creature that had cursed his progeny. Consequently, the line survived, growing weaker but persisting—until the family left Hubei and joined the Cultural Revolution. But that didn't explain to Guo why Gwen had Kirin with her. He recalled Jun's debrief; his younger son had informed him that Gwen had bested a Thunder Wyvern in single combat. That knowledge had been the source of Guo's confidence. Not having anticipated Wonsoo, he doubted the Lius had a candidate who could measure up to an impervious Draconic Wyvern capable of obliterating the outer city of Hangzhou. Jun likewise had not mentioned a Kirin. Assuming uncle and niece had encountered a Kirin, why would they monopolise the knowledge? For one, Guo knew better than anyone that Jun's reputation preceded his ability, that much of his son's legendary competence was attributed to widespread propaganda. Much to his regret, Jun was no Gunther Shultz, and there was no way that a Lightning Mage and an Ash Magus could even begin to harm a Kirin without supporting magic from a Tower. Was it _Gwen_ , then? Did the girl possess yet more untapped potential? Had his granddaughter's association with Henry Kilroy given her yet more secrets to be unearthed? If the reports were accurate, Kilroy could have hunted down a Kirin. The man had done no less during the Saurian Sea War and on the Eastern European Front, aided by his Void-Sorceress wife and his Dryad Familiar. Kilroy and _Sobel_. _Gwen_ and Kilroy. At any rate, it was improbable for Huangshan to house both a Kirin and a Yinglong. By nature, Dragons are highly territorial and usually hate those of their kind with a passion. There was only one exception to the rule: when one of their _kin_ fell to lesser beings. Retribution was the only banner under which Dragonic-kindred banded together, forming cabals capable of erasing cities. _What if it was a young spirit they subsumed?_ Perhaps Gwen had stolen an egg, and somehow Jun managed to hatch it during their Huangshan trip. Guo found his second hypothesis equally unrealistic. He had begun entertaining a third when Liu's incessant squawking grew to such a pitch that it derailed his train of thought. "GUO! You're a fool! Do you hear me?! Your sons are nothing but troublemakers! I can't… I can't believe it… Mao! My poor Qin-Qīn, what have you done to my precious child?" In Liu's mind, there was no doubt about what had transpired. The mournful Secretary regretted inviting the Songs into his house. He regretted letting his daughter near that playboy Hai. He lamented, more than anything, signing his name on the Pass, which allowed Jun and Gwen to access the Anhui province. When Internal Security came looking for heads to chop, his name would be penned in _red_ next to the Songs. Dragons were quick to avenge their kin. What if the Yinglong issued an edict that banished all rain from the region? Would the PLA capitulate? Give up Jun and Gwen Song? Or would the PLA follow the Militant Faction's doctrine of no mercy, no negotiation, and directly assault the Yellow Mountain? What ghastly enterprise had driven Liu so low as to think of allying with the peasant House of Song? What cursed coincidence had tempted him? Now the Lius and the Songs were mutually doomed! No Faction mattered when their immediate future involved being mind-read, mind-wiped, and then offered to the Yinglong with less ceremony than a suckling pig on Chinese New Year. "Guo! Say something!" Liu wondered if Guo would be more reactive and forthcoming if he grabbed the old man by the collar and rattled down the answer like a pepper shaker. Abruptly, Guo rose from his seat. "Guo—" Klavidya's Silent Message bloomed beside her husband's ear. "This has to be a mistake. Gwen knows better! Jun knows better! Her Familiar is a mongoose! Look! You can still see part of its original form!" "I am aware of that." Guo gave his wife a reticent expression fraught with cautious confidence. He had suspected that Gwen might bring a calamitous destiny to the house, though this wasn't it. Not to mention his wife was right. Jun was too wise to make a mistake of this magnitude. Whatever this was, it originated from Gwen—which meant he could divert their present predicament to Gunther Shultz or perhaps the late Henry Kilroy. But first, it wouldn't hurt to receive confirmation. "Gwen—" Guo sent a Silent Message directly to his granddaughter. "Grandfather!" "Don't move, and don't look around. Tell me one thing, is Ariel a Kirin?" "No! HELL NO! Ariel just ate some bad Cores, that's all!" "Good. I believe you." "You do?! Tell them that I—" Guo suppressed a smirk. Liu's would be an error that he could use to his advantage. The wizened old hound of the CCP turned to his counterpart, catching the stench of the man's fear like a Stinking Cloud to his dog nose. "Secretary Liu. Do you forfeit the match?" "What?" "If you do, I shall assume all responsibility for the Kirin." Liu stared at his counterpart, gobsmacked by Guo's declaration. "Guo." The Secretary was caught between resentment and a desperate desire for exoneration. "Have you lost your mind?" Gwen's grandfather looked toward the stage. "You heard Gwen when all of this started, no?" Guo's face was blank as a piece of paper, an expression which exacerbated his mockery. "It's over, Liu. It was all over the moment Gwen stepped onto that platform. We can still finish the banquet amiably; do you wish for bad blood that fervently? Are our children not lovers? What would they think?" Liu's tongue caught in his throat dangerously. A cascade of doubt washed over the Secretary. _Should he give up?_ Cut his losses? The two families would need to work together and pool their connections if they wished to survive this. "Guo..." _DING!_ A Message spell blossomed beside Liu's ear. "Wonsoo?" Patriarch Liu had not expected his grand-nephew to Message him now of all times. "It's not a Kirin," Wonsoo's voice came across from the duelling area. "This thing's a paper tiger; it looks like a Kirin. And another thing, the girl most definitely got blooded on Huangshan. We're all thinking her Familiar is a Kirin because it's exuding Dragon-Fear! That thing's been fed on Draconic flesh!" At the mention of the idiomatic origami tiger, Liu's face ignited. In a fury, the Secretary turned to Guo, his complexion now the scarlet passion of raw pork liver. "WE CONTINUE! THE MATCH WILL CONTINUE!" Liu ejaculated with a petulant intensity, sending out a spray of spittle. Gwen's grandfather dabbed at a spit spot with a finger, unmoved by Liu's sudden passion. Liu tapped into the still-open Message. "HURT HER! Crush the girl! I want the Songs to regret everything! Listen to me, Wonsoo! Do your WORST!" Gwen watched as Wonsoo grumbled under his breath, then looked toward the ceiling with an expression that read, _I regret everything._ "What's wrong with you?" She sized him up with her eyes. "Nothing," Wonsoo lamented. He stretched both of his arms, then shook loose his fingers. "Fair warning, I won't be holding back this time." "The feeling is mutual." Gwen stood with her off-hand resting on her hips. Her other hand stroked Ariel, purring and swimming here and there with adorable swishes of its tail. "The MATCH WILL CONTINUE!" Magus Ly resumed his position atop the cage. Wonsoo cracked his neck. "Last offer - we tie, what do you say?" "Nice try..." "Song _mei-mei_." The man groaned, referring to her youthful age. "Are you always this difficult?" "Try me, Big Brother Liu." Wonsoo regarded her to see if she was serious. The man sighed when he saw that her serious demeanour was entirely genuine. "Look, I am finishing it with my next spell," he declared to her. "If you're serious, stop screwing around. Come at me with everything you got." "Fine!" she retorted. The two parted. "BEGIN!" Wonsoo moved behind his barriers, then began an incantation. "Ariel, to me." Gwen pulled Ariel closer to her torso. Discretely, she transferred a flow of Draconic Essence to her fingertips. "Ee-ee!" Ariel indicated that there was no need. "Eeee! EE!" "Oh?" Gwen felt only wonder at her creature's newfound ability. She released her Familiar just as Wonson began his chant. There was no need to _feed_ her Familiar because Ariel had just _requested_ her Draconic Essence like Caliban. Having gotten accustomed to Caliban's liberal consumption of her vital force, all she had to do was channel her Draconic Essence toward her Conjuration Sigil for Ariel to subsume the usually inoperable resource. She quickly glanced at her opponent. Wonsoo had his Mud-Shield, Mud-Armour, and a shit-load of Mud-mana stacked here and there. Whatever the Mud-Mage had planned, he was confident she couldn't do shit to him. That would be his mistake. From the length of his incantation and the mana radiating from his body, Gwen suspected it was at least a tier 6 spell, a tier withheld from Gwen until her Spellcraft knowledge caught up with her Affinity. "EEEE!" Her Familiar was loaded up and ready to go. "ARIEL!" Raw lightning-mana flowed from Gwen's Elemental Gate, channelling into Ariel's body, activating the Draconic-Essence encircling its centre. "EE-ee!!" Her Kirin-marten expanded to full size. Ariel's neck distended, its mane whipping the air. Long, stag-like limbs spiralled from its stumpy, infantile form, and its fur shone so brightly that Ariel seemed like a descending divine comet. "LORD KIRIN!" someone cried out in the crowd. "So she does have a Kirin for a Spirit!" "Forgive us, Lord Kirin!" "It is TRESPASS to kill a Kirin!" A palpable wave of Dragon Fear, dulled by the Force barrier, rolled over the audience like an undulating tide. A portion of the guests fell to their knees. Some wept. Others began to whimper. "WONSOO!" Patriarch Liu cried out, half choked with rage. He appeared on the verge of a paroxysm, igniting every mote of his mana to retain his sanity. "DO IT NOW!" "Cao, I am glad I wore 'the' underpants," Tao moaned beside Mina, who was fighting an uphill battle. "Seven Li of Swallowing Earth!" The Mud Mage completed his attack. Gwen recognised the manifesting phenomena. Her father had used a similar spell! She had seen him use it on Sufina's island. In an instant, Hai had turned an entire twenty-odd meter radius of his strike zone into a world of sparkling white salt—destroying all hostile flora and fauna in a single strike. Her Divination tingled. With added urgency, Gwen willed Ariel forward. "EE-EE!" Ariel swished through the air, then made a bee-line for the Mud-Mage. Gwen wasn't sure how potent Wonsoo's AOE would be, nor did she have time to gauge Ariel's new abilities. Whatever Wonsoo's plans, she had to finish it first. With one word, she sang the snake. "BARBANGINY!" Ariel's horns blazed, incandescent and viridescent. Inside the humble, mortal realm of Liu's wedding banquet, an emerald-hued celestial object, and Elemental Sphere, entered the Prime Material. A cacophonic _CRACK,_ not unlike Golos at the apex of his insane wrath, washed over the wedding guests with the bone-thrumming intensity of rolling thunder. But Gwen's wasn't the only spell in motion. Mud wasn't a flashy element. From above and below and all around, Wonsoo's oppressive, ooze-like mana enclosed her being. Gwen was standing unassailed one moment, then unexpectedly, she was underwater—or more precisely, under a deluge of semi-opaque mud. The force elevated her globular barrier from the floor, swallowing all light. Within the protective shell of her non-Newtonian sphere, the undertow of an obscure current tossed her about like a snow globe in a washing machine. _SPAK—crack—!_ The weakness of her Non-Newtonian Shield became immediately apparent. The all-encompassing crush of mud rendered her impact-resistant insulation worthless. Her world went dark. The mud was now entirely opaque. Gwen became shrouded in pitch-black darkness, her world illuminated only by the glow from her iris, weakly refracted from the glass-like interior of her Shield. _CLACK—_ Her Shield shattered. The walls pressed in, first enveloping her feet and hands, then her thighs. The mud-mana was coarse and cold, with a texture like high-grit sandpaper. Claustrophobic panic inundated her mind, paralleling the viscous liquid filling her Shield. The compressed air was making her head swell. Her ears popped. She couldn't breathe. Outside, Ariel reached its target. "EE-EE!" Gwen's payload left her Familiar. Not one but two Elemental Spheres issued forth from Ariel's horns; twin emerald suns bright enough to illuminate the entire courtyard, turning night into a smogless summer's day. The guests stared in stunned silence, overcome by the twin spectacle before them. Those on their knees had already accepted their inevitable demise. A volatile cocktail of destructive energies washed over the Force Barrer, sending the generators into a hysterical whine. Wonsoo's para-elemental quagmire had held the energy of the Emerald Lightning captive, and now the whole duelling area was filling up with immense pressure, threatening to escape via the only logical means. It was an unexpected outcome for both Patriarchs. Guo had not anticipated that Wonsoo would take advantage of the arena to 'fill' the room instantly with his 'Mud' mana, incapacitating Gwen by assailing her on all sides. On the other hand, Liu had not foreseen that Gwen could squeeze out an artillery-class AOE capable of taking out his entire manor. 'WHOOOMP!' The Elemental Spheres forcefully expanded to their maximum allowance. The entire duelling arena became an incandescent, rectangular light block, blinding the audience and obscuring the combatants. The Force Barrier warped. A shockwave rang out. The manor rocked as though an earthquake had struck. Pavements cracked. The pond water churned. A stone bridge collapsed. Eaves fell from the fascia, and roof tiles clattered, falling over the panicked guests. For a moment, the wedding guests wondered if this were the last and final duel they would ever witness, pondering if the green sun was the call to some higher purpose. A few regretted their skeletons in the closet. Others thought of their families and their children in their final moments. Then the secondary blast hit. A lightning nova swept across the arena unimpeded. The barriers grew white-hot, then dimmed. The crowd came to their senses. What happened to the _quagmire_? The only beings who remained in the duelling arena were the girl, looking dazed and confused, and a Kirin handsomely dog-paddling above her head, vainly showing off its mane. It took Liu all but two seconds to realise what had occurred. Guo too seemed to have understood, more or less. Their eyes met. Liu shied away, his lips ashen. A flush of colour spread across Guo's uncharacteristically stony face. Gwen had defeated Liu's prodigy. Wonsoo's plan had backfired. To think the combination of an enclosed space and highly-compressed mana would amplify the power of the girl's Elemental Sphere. Guo searched the arena, wondering why there was no Magus Ly to announce Gwen's victory. A sudden realisation made the corner of Guo's lips twitch. If he had been Ly, would he have stood on top of the duelling box, waiting for it to blow? Shaking his head and turning to Liu with undisguised loathing, Guo stepped away from his in-law. "A well-fought match," he declared to Liu, loud enough for the crowd to hear. "I would have contested that curious Banishment, but let us not dwell on such trivial dishonours. My family and I will leave for Shanghai once the banquet is done. The air of Hangzhou, Secretary Liu, is _far too humid_ for a Northerner peasant like me!" Shanghai. PLA Super-structural Tower. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Contingency Teleportation Chamber No.11. A blaring red light illuminated the chamber, followed by a wailing siren indicating an incoming Mage whose Contingency Ring had triggered. _BESZZZZAK—_ A flash of Conjuration mana blazed across the end-module mandala, hand-etched into the mithril-plated floor. The figure of a male, slightly charred and fully disoriented, plopped unceremoniously onto the platform. The medical team rushed to the door. "Who is it?" "It's Magus Wonsoo Liu!" "Mao! From Hangzhou?" "Sir! Can you hear us?" The Magus had spread himself on the floor, resembling the Chinese pictogram figure for _big._ He raised a hand to indicate that he was alive. The Medical Mages regarded one another. "Sir, you are badly burned," one of the nurses pointed out. "Yeah, yeah...Hrrng!" Wonsoo coughed. A spray of crimson issued forth from his lips. "Get me the burn ointment! We'll stabilise him with Healing Word, then transfer to the 1ST PLA! Get the Transport to get ready!" Drawing on the last of his will, the Mud-Mage circulated his languished mana, dulling the wracking agony stabbing at his nerves. "Tell Colonel Jiang that I need another week of R&R..." "Sir?" "…away from Hangzhou..." "Sir, we need to move you..." Wonsoo was already unconscious. For Gwen, the period after Ariel's double Elemental Sphere passed as though in a trance. She had seriously thought she was going to die. When Ariel's attack filled the entire arena and electrified the mud-like mana, she knew she had fucked up. The AOE was too much for the barriers to handle. Furthermore, the invigorated positive lightning had ignited the mana that Wonsoo had used to fill the room, much like it had done before in the enclosed sewers under District 109. But who'd have imagined Ariel could double up on her spells? She had felt the increased drain on her mana pool and thought the phenomenon a part of her empowered casting. Her dark world had suddenly become white. She had wondered if the pressure exerted on her body would pop it like a blood sausage. And then she recalled that she owned a Teleportation Ring. The Contingency Ring had been a gift from Gunther, a surety that she would be safe no matter where she ventured. So long as she was close to a Tower, her survival was assured. How could she forgive herself if she had expended Gunther's ring on an ego trip, especially after Wonsoo had explicitly offered a truce? Gwen reflexively dispelled Ariel, much to the crowd's relief. Caught in a haze, she descended the stage, swallowed by a sea of noise and sound. There were pats on the back, cheers and congratulations, death stares, and jeers and boos born full of anger and disappointment. The chaotic stimulus grew until it was white noise. "Good work," a familiar voice cut through the static. A large towel wrapped around her shoulders, covering the spectacle of her immodest skinsuit. Gwen looked up. Jun's face grinned back at her, his arms folded across his chest. "Uncle Jun!" An unbidden surge of passion choked the cry of relief from her lips. Her immediate reaction was to embrace him. Next, she carefully inspected the complexion of his neck and collarbones for hickeys. Just as she had finally rested her cheek comfortably against his shoulder, she caught Ayxin staring. "Ayxin." Gwen pulled herself away. "Gwen." The Dragon-kin inclined her head. The air between the two women sizzled. "So, are the two of you an item yet?" "Gwen, not now," Jun cleared his throat. He cautiously warded off the curious faces of Tao, Petra and Mina with broad smiles. "The short answer is no." Ayxin growled, visibly flustered by Jun's confession. The sound emitted from the Dragon-kin's vocal cords carried a suggestive purr. It was a strangely erotic reaction, especially considering her exquisite and alluring choice of form, so much that her audience had to will themselves away from staring too intently. Gwen wanted to say something witty, but her exclamation was interrupted by an uproar from the middle of the courtyard. "Don't you understand, Guo? We're in this together now! Your grandchild and your son have killed the Yinglong's flock! They're going to bring calamity to Hangzhou and, by extension, Shanghai! How will you explain that to the National Assembly? To the Security Council?!" "Excuse me a moment." Her uncle left, followed closely by Ayxin. Before Gwen could follow, her friends closed in on her. "Gwen, are you alright?" "How are you feeling?" "What was that spell!?" "Is Ariel a Kirin?" "Can it turn back into a marten?" The barrage of questions made her head throb. She noted that the assembly of wedding guests who had enjoyed the death match was now also craning their necks to hear what she had to say to her friends and family. "Yes, I am okay. That was an EMPOWERED Signature spell. Ariel IS NOT A REAL KIRIN, and I am sure it could turn back into a MARTEN if it wanted to." With the euphoria of seeing Jun now displaced, her muscles ached as though each piece had been individually racked and screwed. "Overextended your mana channels, I'd wager," Petra noted Gwen's unnatural stiffness. She moved behind her cousin and began massaging her shoulders. "You'll need a week's worth of bed rest and healing from Babulya. Assuming you're continuing with Master, we're probably looking at a whole new body scan too." "Yeah." Gwen closed her eyes and sunk into the sensation of Petra's fingers kneading through her bruised and battered flesh. Her commitment to Magister Wen had to continue. Less so on Petra's account and more so out of necessity. According to Jun, so long as Pudong and the PLA Tower had equal access to Wen's research data while Gwen remained in China, they would abide by their unspoken agreement to leave her be. Should that teat of knowledge dry up, all would suffer. "My Lady!" A not-so-familiar voice caught Gwen's attention. It was Chen Pao, and the young man had accosted Ayxin, separating her from Jun. _Holy moly_ , Gwen tugged at Petra. THIS she had to see. Pao was staring at Ayxin with his eyes peeled, as wide as quail eggs, possessing the same ferocity he had previously garnered for Gwen. However, as he came closer to the Dragon-in-disguise, the young man appeared to grow less sure of himself. "You…" Pao stuttered. "I..." Then to their surprise, he back peddled. "Miss? Do… I know you from somewhere?" Looking at Ayxin strutting around in her laundered Hello Kitty t-shirt, something clicked between Gwen's ears. Ayxin must have _borrowed_ her likeness! The Dragon-kin had asked for a change of her clothes back on Lotus Peak! Assuming the woman ventured into the human world searching for Jun, the only garb the dragon-woman would have possessed was Gwen's gift of mundane, non-magical clothing. QED—to enter the human world, it would have been best to assume Gwen's likeness, not to mention the Anhui border guards had seen her prior. _Bloody hell, you snake bastard!_ Gwen spewed internally. _You violated my copyright!_ _A Dragon wouldn't download a teenage body, would you?_ But of course, the Dragon-kin had done just that. Ayxin was arrogant, entitled, and perfectly happy taking people's shit without regard. Not to mention that getup! God, how old was the woman? TWO HUNDRED?! Parading around like she's sweet sixteen, do dragons know no shame?! How thick was their skin? To everyone's surprise, Ayxin did not rebuke the young man. "Your suffering was my oversight, young Mage. I shall now clear your mind. Go and sleep off your sorrows—tomorrow will be a better day, and all your woes will pass like a summer storm." "Yes, Mistress." Pao appeared to have acknowledged Ayxin's cryptic response. The young man turned toward the exit, catching Gwen and her posse eavesdropping. Gwen swallowed nervously as their eyes met. Chen's orbs were bloodshot with sentiments he could not rationalise. _Oh Lordy,_ her heart ached with second-hand pity, the poor sod. Pao bowed deeply. "I am sorry I mistook you for someone else," the young man apologised. "Please forgive my blindness." "Look, it's not your fault." Gwen waved her hands defensively, fanning the wretched misery drifting from the young man like a stench. "We all make mistakes." "I will do everything I can and beyond to exonerate your reputation." "That's not necessary." Gwen was serious. She wanted to put this episode behind her. Being slut-shamed in front of half of Hangzhou's high society wasn't the sort of experience one cherished. But before Gwen could continue, Pao walked away, compelled by a greater force than Gwen's mortal presence. With the young man gone, she approached Ayxin. The two _girls_ were the same height, with near-identical figures, creating a curious visage for Gwen's cousins to digest. "Don't expect me to thank you," she addressed the Dragon-woman cattily. Rather than a beauty that felt real, Ayxin's comeliness appeared as though she sprung to life from a silk-screen painting. Team Cousin joined the two. "Gwen, who is this?" Petra examined Ayxin but couldn't quite pin Ayxin's mien onto her internal mind map. Gwen introduced her uncle's Dragon D'amore. "Ayxin—Petra. This is Tao. This is Mina." "Guys, this is Ayxin. She's a Demi-human-Dragon-kin." Ayxin snubbed Gwen's cousins. "Ai's got an attitude, eh?" Tao chuckled. He straightened himself, then threw a gang sign up in Axyin's face. "Sup, Ayxin! You wanna party, you come to me, gurl! I show you the best beats in town, real Culture, with a Capital SEE." Mina was a far better listener. "Umm... Where's she from?" "Huangshan." A mischievous smirk touched Gwen's lips. "Lotus Peak, to be specific." "But that's where." Petra traversed her eyes until they landed on an answer. A flicker of Divination passed behind her orbs, and then the Russian girl audibly gasped. Petra retreated a step and bowed. Mina quickly followed suit. Tao appeared confused. "Wat's wrong with chu?" "Peaches! Shut up and bow!" Mina insisted. Ayxin waved them away. "I am here for a private matter," Ayxin dismissed the young Mages. "There is no need for ceremony." "Dangerous as she might be, she's a cool Sheila." Gwen tucked a hand against Ayxin's narrow waist. "Did I mention she's got the hots for Uncle Jun?" Mina shot Ayxin a look that was shock-horror. "Child, you have been very liberal with me," Ayxin chided Gwen. "Your overfamiliarity displeases me." "You came uninvited!" Gwen fired back at her. "What did you do with Uncle Jun? The two of you were gone for a long time." "I fail to see how that is any of your business." "My business? Oh ho ho..." "Gwen…" Petra touched a hand to her forehead to suppress a sudden migraine. She pulled her cousin away from the Dragon-kin. "How is this possible? Ayxin shouldn't be here. She can't be here!" "I wouldn't know." Gwen studied the Dragon-kin, hypothesising a few potential possibilities. "She's here, though, so I'd say it's a bit late to worry about Shielding loopholes." "What about her C-O-R-E?" Petra whispered warily. The vast majority of the guests had cleared out by now. The place was filled with servants cleaning up what remained of the banquet. "You know…" "That's a good point." Gwen turned to Ayxin. "So, how is it that—" "AYXIN!" Jun's voice called out from beside Liu and Guo. "I need you for a moment. Can you spare a minute?" "I can," Ayxin's voice effortlessly carried over to Jun. The cousin crew watched Ayxin depart. "She got a nice ass." Tao smacked his lips. "She hollering from the Anhui Frontier, you say?" _That's MY ASS._ Gwen resisted the urge to punch Tao in the arm. She could feel her Draconic Essence trickling back now, unknotting her muscles one by one. Mina and Petra regarded Tao with distaste; there were terrible listeners, and then there were _awful_ listeners. "No, Peaches." Gwen mimed a flying Dragon with her fingers. "She's a Winged Drake, a Dragon-kin. Half human, half Demi-God, and she's over two hundred years old." "SHE'S OVER TWO HUNDRED YEARS OLD?!" Tao suddenly looked up. "If dragons live for thousands of years, does that make Uncle Jun a cradle robber?" "Naw, she's an old goat looking to tuck a young ram," Gwen snorted spitefully. "Say, where's Percy?" Mina and Tao both shrugged. "I saw him leave right after you won," Petra informed her cousin. Gwen exhaled deeply before surveying the desolate courtyard, now empty of guests. Only the NoM servants remained, scrubbing grease and vomit from the tiles, mementoes left over from her inexpert Dragon Dear. "Come on," she notified the others. "Let's see what the oldies are doing. Maybe we can leave for Shanghai tonight. I don't think I've ever missed my apartment so much as I do now." "Jun, I signed you a Pass through to the Anhui Frontier because you said your niece needed training, not so that you could slaughter the Yinglong's flock!" "Magus Liu, it's a little disingenuous to back peddle. Both you and I know the rules. Why raise a fuss after the fact?" Jun had on his usual affable grin. From the looks of it, her uncle was trying to dissuade Liu from weaselling out of their gambit. "Because he lost his gambit, and now he wants to reclaim his face," Ayxin interjected before Liu could continue. "You can see it on his face." "Excuse me, who are you?" Liu snapped, his eyes narrowing with annoyance, his patience no longer generous after losing Wonsoo. From the Secretary's frustration, this wasn't the first time Ayxin had spoken up while the 'men' were talking. "I have been nothing but courteous to you, young lady. I suggest you take your wisdom and leave my estate." "I refuse," Ayxin scoffed. "If Jun stays, I stay." "Guo, this is your son's guest. Are you going to let her insult me in my own house?" Liu's tepid attempts at dragging her grandfather into the muck no longer escaped Gwen now that she was over her shoe euphoria. "I think our esteemed guest can do whatever she likes." Guo meets his son's eyes. "Oh yes," Klavdiya informed Ayxin. "You just be yourself, dear." "Yes, I intended to." Ayxin eyed Jun's parents happily. "I was told that hat mothers-in-law were frightful beings. But you are nice." Klavdiya nodded. "Guo!" Secretary Liu's voice took on a higher pitch and volume. "This disrespect is unbecoming! Do you think that just because you have defeated Wonsoo, you can walk sideways all over the House of Liu? Did you know crabs are an Hangzhou delicacy?" "Secretary, there's no need for that kind of language," Jun stepped between his parents, his in-law, and his Dragon-girl. "Let's just part amicably, shall we? Where's Hai and Qīn, anyhow? Shouldn't they be here to acknowledge how... er... 'events' will go forward? Our families are now joined, are we not?" Jun's diplomacy seemed to encourage the desperate Secretary. The man's face suddenly grew grim. "If you think I will hand over my grandchild just like that, Guo, you've got another thing coming. You uncultivated peasant farmers—" "HOW DARE YOU INSULT JUN!" Ayxin tongue-lashed the unsuspecting Secretary. "CHASTISE YOURSELF!" The Dragon-kin's words reverberated through the air with a palpable force. With the deliverance of the last syllable, something overcame the Secretary, crushing his being until only crumbs remained. To the surprise of the Songs and the remaining servants, Liu prostrated himself before Jun and Ayxin. In Gwen's opinion, the word prostrate could hardly do the man's actions justice. What Liu performed was a full-body, Manchurian kowtow; one in which the sycophant threw oneself on the floor, flattened one's body while on hands and knees, and then slammed one's head against the floor. Too bad for Liu, his estate had used solid granite for the flooring. _THUNK!_ The audience winced as Liu fell face-first on the pavement, pancaking his facial features. A bloody tooth went flying. "FUCK ME!" Tao muttered audibly. The spectacle lingered, as did the awkward silence. "Master!" "Protect the Master!" "Defend the Patriarch!" Abruptly, guards began to converge from the shadows, the doorways, and the roof. All in all, a dozen Mages of various seniority surrounded the outer courtyard. Jun shook his head. "Peaceful Hangzhou isn't just for show," the Ash Bringer chortled sardonically. Guo chuckled. Ayxin stood unmoved. Her visage was that of an empress who could command the death of Liu's men at a whim. She turned to the Secretary. "You... dare?" The bleeding Secretary Liu was a stone statue. His lips defied his cerebral commands, welded shut by some external, compelling force. "Father!" To Gwen's dismay, the beleaguered Secretary was saved by the bell, for his helpless acquiescence was interrupted by the sound of Qīn's harrowing shriek from the eastern gate. Liu's bleeding mien darkened considerably. Even Gwen could see that losing face in front of his beloved daughter was a fate worse than being beaten half to death. Qīn ran across the courtyard, silk robes streaming behind, her white-jade flesh dancing against the pale light. She fell to her knees, heedless of the muck, then scooped up her father with both arms. "Cure Wounds!" A flow of Positive Energy suffused Secretary Liu, who became putty in his caring daughter's hands. Hai then appeared at the threshold connecting the inner and outer courtyard. "Jun, what is the meaning of this?" Her father sheepishly entered. Gwen winced when Guo glared at him with an expression that could only be matched by the frigid hostility exhibited by Jun's libidinous little minx. But the girl's anger was different. The girl's body language of a woman in love defending her beau. "Father, can you get up?" Qīn pulled at her father desperately. "Ayxin. That's enough," Jun pleaded with his Draconic companion. "Sectary Liu wasn't serious." Ayxin lifted her chin imperceptibly. Liu felt his lips loosen. "Qīn, get away!" he yelled out. "The girl's a Mind Mage!" "You'll be sorry!" Qīn screeched at Ayxin. To Gwen's complete delight and amazement, the willow-like woman turned to her new husband. "Hai! Do something!" As for Gwen, it felt as though something inside her had finally ignited. Hai almost tripped over his own feet. _Do something?_ That's his brother, the fucking Ash Bringer and his mind-warping Grey-Ghost escort standing there, and the Salt Mage without a catalyst-Pendant should do something? Not to mention Gwen was glaring at him judgementally, though that was expected... AND his whole bloody family, including his little sister, Nen, his mother, Klavdiya, and his nieces and nephews, are all waiting for him to play the silly bugger. _Do something?_ Qīn may as well have asked him to shove a wand up his arse and do a fucking Tripak routine. Hai scratched his head. His wife began to sob. _FU-UCK!_ What the fuck was his wife thinking? Should he fight his fucking father? Fight Gwen? Fight Jun's Hello Kitty? But Hai instinctively knew he had to do _something_. In a situation like this, the greatest danger was doing nothing. "So…" Hai swept his gaze over those critically observing every hair on his head, groped the air for something to say, then sighed with exaggerated resignation. "Look," he began. "It's my wedding, fellers. Maybe ease off on the politics? Have some tea. There's still the cake left. Can't we all be friends?" A curious silence descended among Hai's audience. Hai breathed out. _Did it work?_ That was easier than he'd imagined. "FUCK YOU, DAD!" An F-bomb echoed across the desolate courtyard. An empty bottle of Maotai flew toward Hai's general direction. Gwen's father ducked. Behind his head, the Enchantment-strengthened ceramic bottle bounced against a wall, fracturing the sandstone before rebounding from the granite floor and into the pond with a plop. The 250ml rebuke had come from his daughter, who was reaching for another bottle even as Petra was restraining her. For Gwen, watching her father putting on a self-satisfied smile finally broke something inside her. One childhood marooned with Morye Song was one thing. Two childhoods lost at sea with Morye-cum-Hai was more than a girl could grin and bear. Feeling her chest ache, a curious revelation gripped her. Gwen discovered that she wasn't mad at Qīn, Secretary Liu, or even her grandfather. They were people with an agenda, with goals that were, in their twisted way, admirable. Men and women like her grandfather worked toward their single-minded objectives with an ego-centric amorality that, at the very least, implied devotion. But her father. Hai 'fucking' Song. All he cared about was his own God damned happiness. Her father couldn't even meet the most basic metric she could imagine in a human being: to do no evil, to leave one's family out of one's cock-ups. "HOW DARE YOU?! HOW CAN YOU LAUGH?" The banshee shriek that rang out across the courtyard was unconsciously enhanced by Illusion. "YOU got us into this mess! We're only here because of YOU!" "FUCK you and your careless bullshit!" Her face had become an outburst of bubbling rage from every orifice. "YOU LEFT ME OUT TO DRY! AGAIN!" "SOME FUCKERS TRIED TO HAVE A GO AT ME! AGAIN!" "WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU, ASSHOLE?!" As usual, she saw that Hai's first instinct was to get the fuck out of the way, but Qīn's presence tethered him to the emotional cluster-fuck wearing his daughter's face like a ball and chain. "Gwen! Calm down! Woa… Bloody…" Hai stammered. "HEY! CALM DOWN! You won, right? Everything worked out! What's the problem?" "FU-" Gwen's hazel eyes glowed bright blue. A cascade of Dragon Fear leaked from her body. Both Petra and Mina stood frozen in their tracks. Sensing her imminent implosion, Jun rushed toward Mina and Petra as Gwen dragged her two cousins bodily across the floor, dead set on finding another Maotai projectile. A surge of electricity arced from Gwen's body. "Arrgh!" "Gwen…" The two girls jumped back. Petra, being a Mineral Mage, circumvented the accidental assault readily. Mina proved less resilient. She swore and nursed her hand with a mote of Positive Energy, then again tried to help her. "Shit!" Gwen spat, forcing herself to cool her superheated jets. "Oh, my God! DAMN IT! It's on you, Dad! If Caliban was still around, I'd—" Jun reached her just in time. He reached out and pressed her to his chest, burying her face so that her cries became muffled. "There, there…" her uncle comforted her awkwardly. "Uncle Jun, you can't let this go, not this time. This...this fucker…" "It's okay. I get it… shush… shhh…." Arcs of electricity fired from her hair, body, and fingers. Jun circulated a sliver of Ashen mana into his niece. Within her Astral Body, he sensed the Dragonic Essence fighting back. Her dearest uncle Jun held her captive until her limbs ceased their struggle. The front of Jun's shirt was soaked. Her meticulous makeup was ruined, though she was sedated, calm, and no longer reaching for bottles. A chilling breeze swept the outer courtyard, rustling the willows. The screaming, the shouting, the crash of bottles and the sob of human misery ceased. Hai stood awkwardly to one side, facing his family, watching her hugging his brother's waist in a daze. Slowly, unconsciously, he averted her gaze. Not far from her husband, Qīn recovered from Gwen's sudden hysteria, her right hand firmly resting against Liu's back while her free hand dabbed the blood from her father's face. Her eyes persisted in begging her husband to make the unhappiness go away. Secretary Liu remained kneeling, certain realisations swirling inside his head. Guo stood beside her babulya, one hand gripping the hand of his wife of over four decades. Her babulya slumped against her husband's rigid body, overwhelmed by disappointment and an indescribable sense of shame. Nen hugged Tao and Mina to her sides, her body language announcing that she thanked Mao's lucky red stars for marrying the right man. Her kids likewise stood intimately beside their mother, looking at Gwen and then Hai. Petra stood alone, thinking of thoughts Gwen could not know. Opposite Petra was Ayxin, who studied the humans to her left and right like an anthropologist, having found the last tribe of the Anthropophagi, trying to document emotions and interactions. Not wishing to be vortexed into the business of their betters, the guards and servants remained very still, becoming invisible, becoming decor. _DING!_ A Message spell bloomed beside Jun's ear, breaking the spell of silence. "As I was saying..." Jun turned to Secretary Liu. "...before I was interrupted, there's going to be someone from Central coming." "C-Central?" Liu stammered. His eyes watered. The man looked terrified. "Why would someone come from the Central Committee of the Party?" Liu's hands gripped the air as if there was invisible aid. Almost as if on cue, the air hummed. Gwen had seen high-tier Teleportation once before—when Gunther had come to her rescue in Blackheath. A flash of silvery Conjuration engendered in the air. A silvery mandala laid itself over the floor, burning the pavement with its white-hot mana, ensuring no obstructions impeded the traveller's arrival. At its conclusion, a spatial tear opened as though someone had unseamed space and time with a scalpel. The first to emerge was a handsome woman in a standard off-white military blouse, dark tie, pencil skirt and black heels. The badge and lapel on her collar and shoulders indicated she was from the Central Confidential Communications Bureau. The next two were men in their thirties and forties, each exuding palpable auras. One had the build of a close-combat Transmuter, the other the stocky form of an Earthen Abjurer. Both of the men carried with them a stock of Wands strapped to their thighs. The Transmuter furthermore had a four-foot sword strapped to his back. The last man to step through the portal was an old gent with greying hair. He wore a cotton-mandarin jacket with knots for buttons, paired with pants and hand-stitched coarse-cotton shoes. As the man dusted himself off, he gave off the air of a farmer having arrived home after a long day at the fields. His eyes were hidden behind two thin lines that hid his orbs, made prominent by a profusion of crow's feet. "Guo, you old hound! How are you? It's been a year since I last saw you at the National Congress!" The man was surprisingly friendly. Guo, Jun and Klavdiya were already bowing before the portal had fully formed. The younger family members followed suit, as did Secretary Liu and his daughter. The guards fell to one knee. The servants lowered their heads against the pavement. Ayxin furrowed her brows. "You?" The Dragon-kin glanced at Jun before turning to the stout, smiling gent. "Do you remember me?" the silver-haired gentlemen chuckled. "Miao...Yang-Bò?" Ayxin did not take long to recall the man. Dragons possessed eidetic memory. "You're Secretary Miao." "It's Secretary-General now." To their surprise, Miao bowed, lowering his head respectfully. Liu's complexion was now the colour of freshly laundered bedsheets. "You look different, Lord Ayxin." "As do you, Mr Miao. You look like an old man." The man didn't look a day over fifty. Gwen observed from behind her uncle. In truth, he appeared younger than her grandfather. "Haha, Lord Ayxin, you're as ruthless as ever." Miao chuckled, his sonorous voice pleasing to the ear. "I am eighty-two, can you believe it? Now, if you would excuse me a moment, we shall negotiate the terms of your unexpected visitation shortly. I assure you, Lord Ayxin, you will not be disappointed." "Do as you wish." Secretary-General Miao extended a hand. Ayxin raised hers. Miao clasped the Dragon-kin's appendage and shook it vigorously. "Welcome to Hangzhou, Lord Ayxin. Come to Shanghai later. I am sure you will find Pudong to your liking!" He then turned toward the humbled assembly. "The Chinese Communist Party welcomes her eminence, _Lord Ayxin of Huangshan, scion of the Yinglong_ , an ally to mankind and now our state-sanctioned VIP, the first of her kind in fifty years!" _CLAP, CLAP, CLAP—_ Miao's bodyguards broke into a standing ovation. Guo clapped. Liu clapped. Jun clapped. Swept up by the moment, Gwen clapped as well. Every pair of hands in the room followed suit, including the guards and the NoM servants. _Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!_ The calm had passed, and now a tempestuous ovation filled the once quiet courtyard, signalling the swelling of the next act.

When enough of his faculty returned, Percy Song found himself near the outskirts of the Lake District encircling the Liu Estate. Taking a moment to gather himself, he surveyed his surroundings. He was in an old, abandoned place of worship, possibly Taoist, maybe Buddhist or Confucian, for the decrepitude of the ancient pagoda made it impossible to know. There was a half-shattered statue of a headless figure lying on its side, but the visage of the Chinese Gods, with their long flowing robes, was indecipherable to a boy who had grown up in Sydney. There were bundles of straw strewn here and there, old newspaper, disposable cups and plates, and scrunched-up bags of spoiled food that reeked. A dozen baijiu bottles, empty, lay to the side. An acrid scent of urine furthermore informed him that the dilapidated temple wasn't as abandoned as he had initially thought. However, it was certainly devoid of human presence at the moment. But none of that bothered Percy, at least not now. Touching a hand to his Kirin Amulet, Percy searched the spirit well within the Kirin Core like a man noodling for catfish in the muck. Usually, it was dormant, mingling with the collated Essences within Core, providing him with vitality and raw Spirit Essence for his training. Other times, it seemed to take on a will of its own. Whenever _it_ happened, Percy would be forced to flood the ritual with his Salt-tinged mana. He would ultimately succeed in subsuming the damned thing's Essence. But then he would be left OOM and vulnerable—a most undesirable set of circumstances, both for the present and the future. It was the only way to ensure the amulet was _his_ and his _alone_. The temple was foul and filthy, but there was no helping it. "Thunder Wave!" A ripple of clear mana blasted away the grime and debris from the centre of the room. He listened for the sound of commotion or alarm. _Good_. There was no one else. Percy seated himself in front of the headless statue. The Ritual of the Kirin's Blessing had four steps: _Meditation._ _Harmonisation._ _Circulation._ _Absorption._ Percy crossed his legs, forming the lotus position, then took account of the last half an hour or so. Before beginning the Circulation phase, his mind must be harmonised and untroubled. His quandary was that he had a full plate on his mind. After all, his sister had summoned a Kirin. Bloody Caliban was already a thrice-damned shapeshifting abomination, horrific enough to turn supporters away from his sister, but now she possessed a demi-god Spirit? At first, he was unfazed. He had immediately recognised it as Gwen's Familiar. Despite its pseudo-Kirin appearance, its gait and that ubiquitous 'Eeee!' was a sight he had seen many times prior. But as the battle climaxed, Gwen had injected her Familiar with a dose of what could only be described as the single most rarified Essence he had ever felt. Ariel's appearance changed from a Kirin-like creature to a semi-divine being. Feeling a peevish ache in his bosom, a sense of self-loathing caught Percy in its grasp. _Shouldn't he be happy for his sister?_ A voice had whispered from somewhere within his chaotic mind. Logic inferred that his sister's boon was his gain, that her growing influence served as his pillar of support, and that her mightiness would elevate his position. But that would be lying to himself, and Percy was too smart to fool himself with benumbing platitudes. The truth was simple enough—he was resentful. Ever since Australia, a slow-building, gut-wrenching envy had culminated into deep-seated jealousy, an unshakable feeling that Gwen somehow usurped his destiny. Why wasn't he up there with the Kirin Familiar, battling it out with a famous Magus? Why hadn't Uncle Jun offered to take HIM into Huangshan? After all, Percy had a Kirin Pendant; he would be the bigger beneficiary by far. High above on the stage, Gwen and Wonsoo exchanged spells. Her emerald lightning then filled the duelling arena. Concurrently, his Kirin Pendant had gone apeshit. Percy couldn't think of another word to describe the sensation. It was as though a Mage Hand had gripped the Kirin Core, tugged it from the red string around his neck, then made a bee-line straight for his sister's radiant presence. Percy felt caught in the grasp of an unexplainable panic. _FLEE!_ An unbidden thought flooded his adolescent faculties; a shoal of white water over a tidal flat. Turning away from the stage, he had fled, unseen and unnoticed, while all eyes were glued to the explosive forces unleashed between the duelists. He bolted past the guards, who paid him no heed, then vaulted over the walls with a well-timed _Jump._ Thanks to his grandfather's gruelling training, he had gained steady mastery over simple, utilitarian Transmutation. When he hit the pavement outside, he buffed himself with Agility and Expeditious Retreat, then ran from the estate, pursued by the urgency of the burning pendant searing his flesh. Upon reaching the edge of the West Lake, he dove into the thrush, hoping the frigid pool could temper the scalding stone. But there was no hiss nor sizzle when he broke through the murky surface. The heat had been an illusion—or perhaps more mockingly—a delusion. Percy thumbed the cold exterior of the Kirin Core. For a split second, he envisioned tearing it from his neck and hurling it into the dark water. Percy's mind returned to the present. _When had it all gone pear-shaped?_ Two years ago, he had watched his clueless sister go off on her Awakening Day at Blackwatte. She had returned home, distraught and confused, almost comically so, and told him that she was a Generalist. _A Generalist!_ _What the FUCK?!_ She had to be shitting him! He recalled that his pity had struggled to overwhelm his amusement and that it took everything he had to keep his face straight. Their mother had always stated sagely that Gwen's only worth was her face, and now his sister had splendidly proven their mother's prediction. Having attended a Selective High School, even at the tender age of thirteen, Percy knew better than anyone what awaited his sister—a loveless marriage; the bearing of children who would be her hope; amiable in-laws if she was lucky; an apathetic and neglectful husband if she was not. He had promised himself that when he became a Magus in the Sydney Tower, he would help her out. A few weeks later, he heard the shocking news that there had been a _mistake_ , and Gwen had awoken instead as a Lighting Evoker. The electrifying shift in her fortunes had caught Percy flatfooted, but he had felt happy for his sister, whose life could now take on a less tragic slant. Then events began to happen around Gwen, seemingly without rhyme or reason, escalating without cessation. Names Percy had only heard or seen on the Vid-casts began to circulate his sister's life. Alesia De Botton, Henry Kilroy, Gunther Shultz, men and women in positions that an adolescent Percy could not even begin to describe filled the rare conversations he held with Hai and Helena. Even their Opa, the weird old Patriarch who had been estranged from the House of Huang since Percy could speak, became obsessively fond of Gwen, going so far as to leave her his share of the estate, leaving Percy to eat dust. That had been yet another shock to Percy, but one he could take in stride. After all, there had been no expectation that their Opa would have left anything to his children, especially knowing the old man's vitriol toward his two ungrateful scions. After that, the Mermen Leviathan crashed into Sydney Harbour. His schooling at Prince's, his life in Sydney, and his future ended abruptly. Even his uncle, the arrogant Kwan, had lost everything to the city's sacking, forcing his prodigious cousin, Richard, to seek his chances elsewhere. As for Percy, he had become disoriented and numb by the destruction. For weeks, he had followed his mother and stepfather without question. Followed them like a zombie, not knowing what the future held. But Lady Fortuna had other plans in store for him. Suddenly, a grandfather he had never known existed made his presence known to Percy. Guo Song took Percy from the refugee hellhole that was Frontier Sydney and brought him to Shanghai, a tier 1 city. He had also told Percy he would be heir to the House of Song. His sister was in Shanghai too, but strangely, the old man loathed his sister with a passion Percy couldn't even begin to understand. But no matter. He was saved. Orgiastic relief and joy swelled from Percy's heart and scoured every inch of his cankerous depression and doubt. Finally, he had found his place in the world; he could fill the shoes of promised destiny. After that, he barely heard Gwen's subsequent grandstanding, though he recalled that she had upset his grandfather. When Gwen passed over the Kirin Amulet, the same one their father had given her on the day of her Awakening, he felt such giddiness that his hand trembled. Percy recalled that he could scarcely breathe when Gwen slipped the amulet over his head. The still-warm Kirin pendant then sat against his bosom. And Percy knew all was right with the world. His sister's eyes were misty, and the natural amber-emerald hue of her orbs had become clouded, but Percy couldn't worry about that now. He would somehow make it up to her later, but this was HIS moment. After the short ceremony, Guo left for the study. His grandmother departed as well. Percy had sat alone under the ambient light of the dimly lit hall, thumbing his new pendant, dreaming of the bright future that awaited him. Sometime later, he had heard a commotion from the west wing, from the training hall. There were shouts of encouragement, laughter, and a few choked sobs. Driven by curiosity, he had peeked through the faux windows separating the practical section of the estate from its living quarters. Voices filled his sister's temporary abode. There was Gwen. His father. His grandmother. Uncle Jun. Petra. Tao. Mina. Richard. Laughing, cheering, belonging. Standing alone, separated by the flimsy barrier in the dark, a caustic panic had gripped Percy's heart, just as it had now. The amulet grew hot and heavy around his neck, more akin to an iron-wrought manacle than silken strings. _Should he have taken the Kirin Stone?_ The tinnitus of doubt thrummed in his ear. That was when he had first felt the presence in the amulet. He had felt a pressure, a touch, a finger on the soft membrane of his brain. _"Thank you all!"_ _"Thank you for supporting me!"_ The clarion voice of his sister rang through the courtyard, and Percy found himself fleeing toward his room, his lungs fighting for every desperate gasp of air. _What happened after that?_ Percy pondered. His memory of the event was fuzzy and uncertain. A few days later, Grandfather had laid out privacy wards in the training hall, sat him down, and told him the family history. There was some gobbledygook about Chinese spirits and an old Kirin, as well as blood curses that sounded as mystical as it was divorced from modern Spellcraft, but the point made by his grandfather was clear. If he, a Salt Mage, wanted to carry on the family line, he would need the amulet. If he ever wanted to catch up with his sister, he would need the amulet. Most importantly, if Percy ever wished to wield the power of salt with impunity, he would need the amulet. "Both your father and your uncle begin their training shortly after Awakening, but to my knowledge, only Jun fully utilised the Kirin Amulet's power. As for your father, I could only assume he did enough before he left, considering that you and Gwen are living proof of his mastery over the element." Percy had no idea, of course. His father had never mentioned his past, family, or half of the amulet. "I will now teach you how to cultivate using the Kirin Stone. Percy Song, I now bestow the Kirin's Blessing and the Rite of Essence Transfer upon you." The rest of the lecture had been both a threat and a warning. The training had been difficult and fraught with physical and mental pain. More than once, Percy had regretted taking on the burden of the amulet and its Necromancy-tainted application. As the Essence from the Kirin Core nourished his body, his training progressed in leaps and bounds, far quicker than replenishing his reserves with HDM crystals. His Astral and his physical body felt impervious to the negative drain from his Salt talent, meaning he was limited only by the extent of his willpower. For the first time, Percy had become confident he could catch up to Gwen. Slowly, the jade pendant lost its emerald exterior, turning translucent and white like salt. He took it as a sign that he had successfully converted the Kirin Core to his use. Later, Guo confirmed that the Core took on different hues when reacting with users. Unsurprisingly, Jun's half of the Kirin Core was white, dull and ashen. Shortly after that, he felt the presence again. A schizophrenic existence. Sometimes, it sought to reject him, even attack him during meditation. Other times, it was inviting and hungry, drawing in more and more of his Salt-tinged mana. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. That and the indescribable sensation of drowning in darkness whenever he entered deep meditation with the amulet active. He felt cast out to sea, alone and abandoned in these moments. He was a drowned sailor, sinking into the murk while painfully aware that something indescribably large waited for him below—a poetically apt phobia for a boy who had survived a Leviathan crashing into his city. Then one day, unbidden and unexpected, Gwen came to visit him while contending with his inner demons. The pendant had gone 'apeshit' a few minutes into their conversation. He realised then that there was something inside the amulet which desperately wanted to join its former possessor. After shooing her away, he took a cold shower and returned to the training hall. Then with masochistic glee, he had poured his desiccating mana into the damned thing, suppressing whatever "thing" stirred within the Kirin Core's depth. After that, Percy tightened his training regime. There were additional incidents where the amulet rebuked him, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Furthermore, he had questioned his uncle, who had disputed the existence of a "presence" inside the amulet. "Gwen has been through a Warzone, so there's probably any number of Spirits in her stone," Jun had replied offhandedly. His lack of enthusiasm for Percy was poorly disguised on his face. "You should be so lucky to be the benefactor of her woe..." Jun's reaction was enough. Percy had decided it was safest to keep the complication close to his chest. His Spellcraft training was coming along well, and that was all that mattered. He felt he was progressing far better than his sister when she was just fifteen. Having received formal preparatory training since he was eleven, he knew the theory, the practical methodology, and his abilities far better than Gwen knew hers. Not only that, his new school, Xiangming Metropolitan, provided Cognisance Chamber readings on a fortnightly basis. Seeing his statistical data increase point by point, month by month, was the greatest satisfaction and the most ardent vindication of his resolution. Things at his new school likewise fell into a routine. He made new friends, mostly among the Guan-er-dai, power progenies such as himself, and founded friendships with well-to-do Clanners. Midway through the semester, he met Pei Li. The two got talking, and Pei asked him if Gwen Song from Fudan was related to 'the Songs.' Percy's answer had remained evasive, and his new friend had accidentally discovered Gwen's precarious position in the family. Later, another mutual friend told Percy that an Elder from Pei's Clan had been discharged and that the Huashang Lis had lost two promising young Mages in a confrontation involving Gwen. When he confronted Pei, the young man shrugged, stating that it was the work of renegades who were now excommunicated from the Clan's inner circle. Not wanting to rock the boat, Percy accepted the explanation, even though the thought of his sister chasing him down and demanding to know the truth haunted him. But there was nothing he could do, so Percy delved headlong into training. Then news came of his father's new bride. Percy initially thought a new mother would have bothered him, but having met his new family, he liked the Lius and what they had built for themselves in Hangzhou. In Percy's eyes, the Lius' history was a good roadmap for his ambitions in China: to secure House Song's position, branch out via powerful allies, and build himself a legacy. He imagined himself the Master of an Estate like the Lius and fancied it. NoMs would quake as he passed; men and women would bow if they were subservient or dip their chins if they were compatriots. People would refer to Percy as "Patriarch," "Master," "Sir," and perhaps in time, "Secretary," and "Magister." Then, of course, Gwen arrived. As before, the amulet had gone _apeshit_. This time, Gwen had suddenly reached for his amulet, something she had never done before. The act rattled him to his Core, for he knew with absolute certainty that had Gwen laid her hands on the pendant, she would have yanked it from his neck and forever laid claim to his heirloom. So Percy panicked— _again_. He vindictively accused her of having designs on his inheritance, driving his sister from the house. _Good riddance._ Percy thanked the Gods for a grandfather like Guo. He had no idea why Guo disliked Gwen, just as he couldn't fathom why Jun had taken to Gwen so strongly. After that, he retreated to the privacy of his guest room and circulated his mana into the amulet until it had ceased the damned rollicking. He had avoided his sister after that—until tonight. Percy thumbed the Kirin Pendant again. " _Little shit,"_ Percy said to no one in particular. The insult had come from his sister. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but it had stuck with Percy, grated on him, and ate away at his innards. A _little shit…_ Percy scoffed. For some reason, the bland and uninspiring insult sat in his kidneys like a stone. "FUCK YOU TOO!" he announced to the decapitated statue. The stoic form of the half-shattered ornament informed him that his insult was not very effective. "Hahaha…" Percy chuckled, hearing his mocking laughter reverberate around the sky well of the shattered atrium, returning the mockery to its sender. Percy shook his head. He had to return to the wedding. Win or lose, he had to be there, or else Guo would be upset. Percy relaxed. The soliloquy felt good. He felt much better now that his head wasn't cluttered with angst and repressed solicitudes. Nothing like an open-air F-bomb to clear your system. Collecting himself, Percy rested the pendant between his hands, looking as though he was cradling a miniature Kirin, then began the Rite. "Drain Life!" The stowed Essence within the Kirin Stone began to flow into his body, strengthening his vitality and fortifying his Astral body. When the pendant wasn't acting up, the process was almost pleasurable, like being bathed in warm milk. "ARRRRRGGH!" A shriek echoed across the courtyard. A vaguely female humanoid figure burst from the remnants of the broken statue, struck the floor, and then began to writhe and twist, scratching and clawing at her throat. It took Percy half a second to register what he was seeing. "Shield!" He tumbled backwards across the filthy floor and came up in a defensive stance, ready to run if his opponent was an ambusher or a Mage he couldn't overcome with his meagre tiers of Spellcraft. With his Drain Life disrupted, the female figure rolled onto her belly, then onto her hand and knees. His assailant raised her head. Hidden behind a crow's nest of filthy, matted hair, a pair of dark eyes looked up at Percy. A woman? No, a girl. Percy felt his blood run cold. She had seen him! She had seen him exercise the Song's forbidden magic! He raised a hand toward her face. "Don't kill me! Lord Mage! I am… I am an NoM! I live here... I got scared when someone came... please..." The voice was coarse, pitiful and weak. Percy paused. The woman, or girl, it was impossible to tell, was stick thin and covered in dirt, muck, and grime. Her wild hair was tangled in unpleasant knots, falling over her back and neck like a filthy rope. Whatever was in that statue had furthermore stuck to her rags and exposed skin, making her more akin to a Night-Goblin than a human being. Now that his shock had passed, Percy furthermore noted that the source of stench he had noticed earlier belonged not to the locale but to the vagabond. His gaze softened. "No, I should be sorry," he replied, breathing gently. "Do you live here? In such a horrible state? Where are your parents?" "I…" The girl appeared caught off guard by the visage of a pleasant young man in a tuxedo, standing in the moonlight, speaking amiably to her. "Can you stand?" "Y-yeah…" She made an effort to stand. Percy waited until the girl was unbalanced. "Salt Bolt!" A fist of weighed salt launched itself toward the girl's head. It was his most efficient spell. Percy had practised the incantation until he was out of mana, his lips bled, and his tongue was raw and parched. "Shield!" The girl did not appear to have formalised instruction beyond mandatory vocational training. Her Water Shield was paper thin, barely a membrane of semi-opaque liquid. His bolt cut through the girl's shield, scalping her shoulder. "Arrrrrrgh!" In a blind panic, she charged him. Percy sidestepped, too well-trained to fall for such a bullish assault. He tripped the girl, seized her skeletal wrists, twisted her arm, and then sent her reeling toward the floor, where her profile connected with the brickwork. The fluid motion was almost subconscious, resulting from Guo's relentless, repetitive training. As his grandfather said, "If you need to think about how to defend, you've already lost." With the girl on the floor, he drove a knee into her back. The girl screamed and coughed, struggling to breathe. "Are you a spy?" he asked. It was a stupid question. He wasn't that deluded. Rogue Mages were not unheard of, especially in the Frontier. The Chinese government conscripted children from the NoM masses every year by the tens of thousands, throwing them into training to create fodder for the insatiable revolving door of the District Militia. Those who survived and thrived were then relocated to the Military. Those who proved a little more talented than mana batteries became spell fodder for the Northern Front. If so, knowing that one's demise was inevitable, desertion should be no surprise to anyone. A Rogue Mage, then. No wonder the poor tramp lived by herself in an old, worn-out temple. "Oi, are you a Rogue Mage? A deserter? Answer me! What are you doing here?" Now exposed under the bright light of the moon, he could see the girl more clearly. He could see that she was bleeding. A shallow wound was caught between the folds of her torn shirt. Furthermore, blood seeped from her nostrils and the corner of her lips where her face had struck the floor. He knelt. Not knowing why, Percy dabbed a digit into the girl's wound, touching the scarlet gauze and rubbing the hot, sticky glob of gory ejaculation between his fingers. "Arrrgh! It hurts! Please! Let me go... I'll do anything... anything..." The girl moaned. Percy felt a rush of blood to the head. Reflexively, he gripped the Kirin pendant with his off-hand. It was an unconscious habit. For Percy, the stone had become a fetish, one he found himself holding whenever he felt anxious or unsure. _I should finish her._ She's a Mage, and she saw me use Necromancy. _But she's innocent,_ his rational half protested. It's human decency to show mercy. _No! The girl's a deserter!_ She will die sooner or later anyway; the punishment for desertion was a televised execution. Percy bemoaned his fortunes. Just his luck to run into a deserter. Who the fuck hides in a hollow statue? He thumbed the Kirin pendant. As the girl's blood smeared across its surface, a discolouration polluted the purity of the Kirin Core's lamb-fat complexion. Unnoticed, Percy tucked the pendant beneath his shirt. He took a deep breath. He wondered how many people Gwen had killed. Dozens, probably. "If I let you go, if... who's there?!" _Creak—_ The sound of rusty gates opening from afar punctuated the tranquil air. _Shit!_ Percy's ears perked. _Did she have allies?_ "LIFAN!!!" the silent girl suddenly began to scream with a vitality that utterly surprised Percy. "LIFAN! HELP ME! HE'S GOT ME! HE'S AN EVOKER!" Percy placed a hand over the girl's head, then pressed her face into the pavement, silencing her with a resounding _Crack!_ A spell came to his lips with unerring clarity. "Drain Life!" The girl's face contorted with agony. Her gurgling scream ceased as though a facet had been shut. What little vitality had remained in the girl's battered body filtered into the Kirin Amulet, then circulated into Percy's body. Percy's hand came away with a fistful of greasy, rancid human hair. In the undulating ecstasy of the life drain, he had pulled at the girl with more passion than he had intended. He caught his breath as it ripped from his chest in rags. The communion between himself and the amulet was like nothing he had ever felt. It was as though the Kirin Core had finally become one with his flesh and accepted him as its sole Master. With renewed vigour, Percy gripped the deserter girl by the back of the neck. "Drain Life!" But there was no more euphoria to be squeezed from the limp and flaccid carcass. The vagabond was dead. "Shit." Percy stepped back, feeling hungrier for his unexpected satiation. Like a man who'd just finished an astonishingly appetising entrè, he was now lusting for the main course. _Gods!_ He felt invigorated! He felt invincible! No, more than that. Percy turned his mind inward. Something had changed. It was different this time. Different from when Percy had worked the ritual with only the pendant. Unlike his once timid sister, he had been trained within an inch of his life since he had exhibited the promise of magic. He knew his body and his capabilities like the back of his hand. Seeing that no intruders came to rescue the dead girl, he turned his mind inward, searching through his Sigils until he found the source of the disturbance. "Shield!" A Salt-Shield sprang into existence. Percy retracted the shield. "Shield!" A semi-dome Shield was erected around his person, semi-transparent and glittering with blue-white crystals. _Abjuration._ It was an Abjuration Shield. A wild fancy came to Percy. A puzzle piece had fallen into place. An epiphany. _EUREKA!_ "SO THAT'S HOW SHE DID IT!" Gwen had six Schools of Magic. SIX MOTHERFUCKING SCHOOLS! And TWO Elements! From none! But they weren't hers. She had stolen those Schools, just as he had done now. Stripped them from her victims' Astral Souls, pilfered via illicit magic. That selfish, immoral whore! She must have figured out a way to abuse the Song's Necromantic legacy! "HAHAHAHA! I KNEW IT!" Percy paced back and forth, shaking with uncontrollable glee. "Gwen! GWEN! Gwen! You knew the whole time, yet you kept it all to yourself. You bitch! You selfish, conniving little _shit_." Was this why men like Kilroy and Shultz lined up at her door? Had they thought she was a one-in-a-million genius? A Meister in the making? The fools! If only they knew! Who else would know? Percy couldn't help but wonder. Jun. Uncle, fucking, Jun. Percy saw the way Jun had looked at Gwen. He had heard him say that he wanted a daughter on multiple occasions. THAT was the reason why he had gone on the trip with Gwen! Her Kirin MUST have something to do with the cannibalistic powers of the amulet! Maybe it could consume Demi-human magic as well? Or Transmute their souls? Uncle Jun had his half of the amulet! _And Guo as well._ What was it that the old man had said to Liu? _"If a single one of your Clan's juniors can best Gwen, I will join the House of Song wholeheartedly to your Faction. Your grandchild, male or female, will become the inheritor of both our Houses."_ Guo had gambled _his_ —Percy Song's future—on his sister! HIS SISTER! A FUCKING GENERALIST! THE BASTARD! That decrepit, senile old bastard! HE WAS THE FUCKING HEIR! To think he had trusted the old fart with his future. "Shield!" Instantaneously, his shield sprung into place. It was not a dream. The shield was real. He had plucked Abjuration from the Rogue Mage! He was sure of it! For months, his Abjuration had lingered at a pitiful index of 0.45. From what he could gauge now, it was at least tier 1! His new magic proves it! He always knew that Gwen had cheated and how he had found her out. Most importantly, now he could catch up to his sister, fair and square. If she could drain hapless Mages in District 109 to account for her lack of talent, then so could he! If HE could attain her level of power—NO—IF HE COULD SURPASS HER POWER, where would it take him? To what heights could Percy Song ascend? Magus Percy Song? Magister Percy Song? The greatest was behind! "We're alike now! Hahaha!" Not knowing why, he kicked the girl's body, sending her tumbling into the headless statue, shattering its terracotta exterior. "Gwen! I am going to catch up! _We're going to be together. One way. Or another!_ " In the middle of his euphoria, there here came another rude interruption. 'WHAT IN MAO'S NAME DID YOU DO TO LI-HUA!' Percy curbed his manic passion. He's been expecting their visitor. A haggard-looking woman stood by the doorway, a shattered bottle of alcohol rolling at her feet. "What did you do?" she uttered in disbelief and shock. The woman saw her companion's goose-skinned, saggy corpse draped over the statue like a ragdoll. Percy circulated a full contingent of Salt-tinged mana through his body, supercharging his physical attributes. His eyes became twin orbs of pure white, so alien as to be devoid of pity. "Oh no…" the woman swallowed, stepping back, trapped between fleet-footed flight and bewildered intoxication. Percy took a gander at the intruder's paralytic panic. Who'd have thought he could affirm his hypothesis so soon? A sadistic, uncharacteristic cruelty touched his lips as though dredged from the darkest depth of his soul. "Oh-no?" Gwen's little brother sniggered. He was fully willing to sacrifice a little integrity to advance the human knowledge of Spellcraft, not to mention he was performing a social duty. “OH, YES…”

By the second minute of the unceasing applause, Gwen's hands were beginning to hurt. The ovation had continued unabated as though they had concluded a concerto and the audience refused to leave without an encore. Miao raised a hand. The Inspector-General's impromptu humility caught Gwen by surprise. While a sudden cesura reigned, she kept clapping for half a second. 'Clap! Clap! Clap....' It didn’t help that her envigorated approval was at a decibel hitherto unreachable by those without draconic-essence. Horrified, she made herself smaller, hiding behind Jun. Catching sight of her ashen complexion, the Secretary-General snorted with good humour. Gwen's apprehension was voluntary. Unlike when she had first arrived in Shanghai, she had studied up on the organisational structure of the CCP in the half-a-year since she had been at Fudan. Secretary-General Miao Yang-Bò wasn’t someone whose name and title she could afford to lose to inconvenient amnesia. Within her head, Gwen had painted a picture of the confusing separation of powers within the CCP. At the nerve-centre of the Chinese Communist Party was the General Office, an organ which held the Central Committee of Twelve. Attached to the General Committee was an independent oversight body - which was the Central Commission for Discipline and Inspection. The head of the CCDI and its Secretary-General was Miao Yang-Bò. She knew of the man because, quite simply, Secretary General Miao was the boss of Jun’s boss. The watcher who watched the watchers who watched the state. How's that for a mouthful? Gwen thought. It would be funny if not for the fact that every word from the man's mouth could be enforced as an edict. “Lord Ayxin, I hope you will forgive us for our neglect of your august presence. That Secretary Liu has insulted you was an unforgivable trespass.” Boom. Gwen winced. There goes Liu's career as a statesman. “I BEG FOR YOUR CLEMENCY! LORD AYXIN!” Liu threw himself into another prostrating kowtow. This time, it was of his own volition. The CCP had long since banned the use of Imperialist gestures like the 'full body kowtow,' but Liu had mastered the form after only one attempt. The man was amazing in ways Gwen could never replicate; his skin was as thick as dragon-scales. Qīn fell to her knees as well, bowing until her forehead touched the cold pavement, knowing that only humility could save their family from disgrace. Hai stood awkwardly behind the two, unsure of whether to kneel or remain standing. After a moment of stiff-jointed hesitation, he implored Jun, his eyes swimming with unspoken desperation. The corners of Ayxin’s lips twitched. It was amazing how such a worm-like being could be the blood-relation of the male she desired. But then again, Ayxin recalled with reproof, wasn't she related to that scholarly coward, Ryxi? There's one in every family, it seemed. Erasing Liu would please her, but she had a feeling that exercising the liberty afforded by her position and prestige would sour Jun’s opinion of her. But as a dragon, she also hungered for satisfaction. Echoing Hai's dilemma, she allowed the matter to fall to Jun. “Lord Ayxin, please have compassion for Hai’s father-in-law” Jun bowed, reminding his companion that they were at a wedding. More specifically, a wedding Ayxin had intruded upon uninvited and unwanted. "The man did not know of your august presence." “I do not like that you are so distant,” Ayxin recoiled at Jun’s formality. “Speak normally.” Jun awkwardly looked toward Secretary-General Miao for instruction. The old man was watching the siblings and Jun's draconic-charge with great interest. “Be at ease, Captain Song,” The Secretary-General chided Jun with a tone of great mirthfulness. “You will assume the role of our Ambassador while Lord Ayxin remains in Pudong. I am sure you're aware of how having an ancient land deity who has protected the yellow-earth for millennia as an ally would affect our borders. Maybe the Japanese will think twice about our South Sea territories then, eh?” “My only interest here regards Jun,” Ayxin stated bluntly, furrowing her brows. “I do not have my father’s permission to engage in political barter.” “Then let our city be your shelter and sanctuary,” Miao answered without skipping a beat. “You are welcome to stay for as long as our cities stand.” “Sir, I have duties in the North…” Jun coughed, politely rejecting the General Secretary’s too-generous offer. Listening to the man’s increasingly grandiose diplomacy, he was getting goosebumps over parts of his body hitherto untouched by nervous premonition. “My next tour begins in February.” “Lord Ayxin is free to go wherever she pleases.” Miao inclined his chin in a way that made him seem infinitely agreeable. “If it pleases her to tour the North, we will make that accommodation as well.” “I see.” Jun stepped back. He was beginning to comprehend the scope of the CCDI’s vague intent. Whatever Jun desired was now out of the question. As a soldier, orders were absolute, be it trench-charging a troop of Corpse Gatherers, or the escort of a Draconic-Mage to the Front. "I shall perform my duty." Hidden behind Jun, Gwen gritted her teeth, feeling a sincere desire to pinch her uncle. “Perfect, Captain Song. You are a smart man and an even better soldier. Now, let us not stand on ceremony,” Miao stretched his arms behind his back. “I am an old man, Eighty-Two years old! Guo, is there a good place to sit down for some tea? Lord Ayxin and I have much to discuss.” “Please allow me to offer my home!” Secretary Liu quavered from the floor. “Qin! Bring me my store of yearling Da Hong Pao!” Qīn remained unmoving, but the implication was clear enough. “Lord Ayxin?” Ayxin dismissed the pitiful sight of Secretary Liu. “You are forgiven,” she stated beside Jun. “Next time, know your place." Qīn and her father remained on the floor, the very picture of humbleness. Hai moved to retrieve his wife, but she battered his hands aside. Caught by the awkwardness of her rebuke, Hai finally took a knee beside his spouse. Klavidya turned away from the pitiful sight of her son, as did Guo, who was grinding his teeth with enough vehemence to require new molars. "This way, Secretary-General.” Guo didn’t so much as glance at his first-born son as he led the way back to the west wing. “Oh, one more thing.” Miao paused mid-stride. The gathering collectively ceased their shuffling. “The young Miss over there, I have some questions for you, but lacking the time, Xiao-Kú will act in my stead.” The crowd parted to reveal Gwen, still wearing her skin suit, covered only by a towel. Gwen pointed a trembling finger at herself. She had been singled out like a drunken Sheila at a Friday night alcohol-stop. A resounding series of 'Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!’ resonated through her mind. On the surface though, she kept her passions contained. “Sir?” She dipped her head just low enough so that she was eye-level with the Secretary-General; her makeup was a mess, but Gwen figured her guise of juvenile vulnerability was to her advantage. “It’s nothing serious, Miss Song.” Miao was already on his way out. “Kú, I'll debrief you later.” "Sir!" The woman in her early thirties known as Kú lowered her gaze until Guo, Klavdiya, and Miao were out of sight. Walking side by side with Miao was Ayxin, the state VIP, followed closely by Jun, who paced beside his father. Trailing the group beside Miao’s two bodyguards were Qīn and Hai, with her father lagging slightly behind. When they reached the end of the corridor, Hai and Qīn went their separate ways, evidently lacking the seniority to participate in whatever discussions that now took place. With the senior party gone, all that remained in the spacious courtyard were troops of servants, Gwen, Kú, Mina, Tao, and Petra. The sibling's mother, Nen, accounted for her children, then quickly excused herself. Kú turned toward Gwen with eyes the clarity and hardness of rock-quartz. Attired in a hip-hugging pencil skirt, the woman was the definition of corporate cool, though Gwen suspected her blouse & dark skirt combo was something akin to a departmental uniform. “This way, Miss Song.” The woman indicated to a pavilion beside the water. Gwen pinged her Divination Sigil to no avail. Its silence wasn't a bad thing; it meant Kú wasn't going to knock her out and take her back to Central for vivisection. Her cousins reached her side. Petra especially, having seen such incidents in her previous line of work, raised a hand to Gwen's shoulder. “I’ll be fine guys, the worst is over,” Gwen assured them, though she wasn’t so sure herself what Kú, and by extension Secretary General Miao, wanted from her. “Miss... er, Kú?… appears quite amiable, I guess.” “It’s Kú Tēng, Senior-Assistant to Secretary Miao. I hold the rank of Assistant Chair within the Central Confidential Communications Bureau, Ist Division, Beijing branch. I assure you, your cousin will be safe with me. My business with Miss Song is conducted at the behest of the Secretary General’s office. All non-affiliated personnel should make themselves scarce, lest you are charged with espionage.” Tao and Mina were the first to leave, being far more in awe of Kú than Petra, who was more accustomed to officious grandstanding from public officials. “Gwen, be careful.” Petra lingered for the rest of their short walk, at the end of which Gwen urged Petra to go. Walking into the pavilion, Kú materialised a wand that suspiciously looked like one of those butt-thermometers. It was, however, the width of two fingers. “What’s that for?” Gwen stayed a step behind the woman, readying herself for a series of rapid Dimension Doors if the Assistant Chair’s next response was to ask her to lie down. “Samples.” “For?” “Your Familiar.” “Oh, thank God...” Gwen simpered with relief. “Your Kirin, please.” “It's a marten.” "We'll see." Kú waited impatiently by the table. Gwen glanced at the instrument one more time, then once again brought forth her Familiar. “Ariel!” Ariel materialised mid-air. In its passive form, Ariel's draconic qualities were far less pronounced. Without an empowering flow of Lightning-mana, her Familiar remained closer to its marten form. Two little stag-horns peeped out from its forehead, while its tail more closely resembled that of fan-tailed fish, forming a fluffy pad perfect for stress-relieving molestation. “Eeee?” Ariel swished through the air a few times, then landed on Gwen's head. Ooo~, WARM! Gwen kept her face straight. Minx-scarfs aren't just for show! “Hold it steady.” “Ariel, be strong.” Gwen held her Familiar with both hands. “Look at me. Focus.” “EEE?” Kú passed the wand over Ariel. She then punched the numbers into a data slate. Gwen blinked. “That thing’s not for sticking?” “Sticking what?” Ariel’s butthole? Gwen stopped herself from blurting out the obvious. Why are you aiming it at my Familiar’s ass if all you wanted to do is wave it like a metal detector? “I am detecting a trace of Draconic Essence,” Kú prodded Ariel’s fur. "I need some samples." “Okay,” Gwen scratched Ariel’s tail. “But Ariel dematerialises when I unsummon it.” Kú handed her a pair of nail shears. “One lock of hair and clippings from the front hooves and the back paws, if you please. As for your enquiry, Familiars with highly developed Ego - ergo - a Spirit, retains their existence in the Prime Material. The samples will degrade. That is the point. The degradation itself allows us to gouge its authenticity.” “I see... Ariel, hand.” It was a shame that Ariel’s front paws had become hooves, though they were cute in their own way, with a thick bushel of furry mane covering the pastern bones. The hoof-wall was a polished jet, more akin to obsidian than keratin. When Gwen took hold of its hoof, she noted that the frog was thickly fleshed, like an overlarge paw-pad of a dog or cat; immensely satisfying to squeeze. 'Clack!' A chunk of the keratin parted. “EEeee!!” Ariel retracted a hoof, pawing the air. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. “It’s okay buddy, come on, one more!” Reluctantly, Ariel settled back into her arms. Cradling her Familiar like a baby, she retrieved one of its hind legs. Hidden under the snowy fur was a mightily fluffy paw with four meaty beans so pink and springy one could play with them for days. Gwen dug her fingers into the luxurious tissue, tickled by the soft down. “May I?” Kú's eyes followed Gwen's joyous, exalted digits. “Inspect your Familiar, that is.” Hmm, Gwen felt her old instincts kick in. Maybe there was a play here. It was always good to bond with your clients before talking shop. Asking about their day, their holiday, their latest venture, that relative they had once mentioned, their new car, their dog and cats. “Help yourself.” “Thank you. Ariel?” Ariel regarded the woman warily. “Eeeee…” “I’ll be careful.” “Eee~!” The Assistant-Chair retrieved the other foot, with Ariel now floating belly-up. “Mao… Ariel is certainly a divine specimen.” “Not divine enough to be a Kirin, I hope.” “No… that much is evident. The physiology of a Kirin is far more complex.” Ku gingerly lifted Ariel’s tail. “EEEEE?!” Ariel covered its butt with its swishing, flap-like appendage. Rude! Its scowling face seemed to say. Gwen couldn't help but notice Ariel now possessed 'expressions'. “As you can see, your Familiar has no sex.” Gwen made an 'O' with her lips. “Through the Kirin is a chimeric creature, it nonetheless possesses universal underlying traits. Your Familiar is lacking dragon-scales, or ‘Fish-scales’ as we say.” Kú then parted Ariel’s mane. “Additionally, the mane should extend from under the keratin, but Ariel has an undercoat with a herringbone scale-pattern. Furthermore…” Kú tapped on Ariel’s horns. “Young Kirin sport ‘ròng’ or fuzzy horns. This creature possesses what looks like a warped stag-horn, even unempowered.” “You're very observant,” Gwen marvelled at the woman’s expertise. Was she a cryptozoologist? “Well, observant enough to see that it’s a low-tier Spirit. What did you feed it?” “Assorted Cores? I was given some by Uncle Jun, and then we found one in Huangshan imbued with Draconic Essence.” Kú paused in her molestation of Ariel’s paw before continuing. Gwen looked up. The two women met one another’s eyes. Gwen averted her gaze, using Ariel's back paw as a distraction. “Out of respect for Inspector Song, my colleague, I will give you an opportunity to be forthright with me,” Ku replied amiably. “You should know that I am a Bloodline Diviner. I am not very good at foretelling the future, but I can tell with fair accuracy whether someone is telling a lie.” “EEE!!” Gwen clipped into Ariel’s back-paw with more force than she had intended. When she looked up, she caught a glimmer of Divination refracted from Kú's dark, amber eyes. Her Familiar escaped the women's grasp, slithering away like greased lightning. It hovered just out of reach, swishing its tail, taunting the pair for their trespass. “Is this an interrogation?” “Only if you want it to be.” “I don’t know what that means.” “Then think of it as an interview. I would endeavour to make a good impression if I was in your position. With a rare talent, come dire complications.” Gwen shifted her position so that she wasn’t so intimately seated beside the Diviner; it was bad enough that the woman could affect her with a touch spell. As for her response, it would seem cryptic answers and Divination were mutually symptomatic. Mayuree too suffered from the affliction of using half-truths as answers to common queries. Admittedly, Gwen wondered if she was still in the grasp of Mayuree's foretelling of weal and woe. “Then I shall endeavour to do my best.” “Good, who is the originator of your Summon Familiar?” “Henry Kilroy, he was my mentor.” Gwen had omitted the fact that Henry was also her saviour and her Master. She wasn’t sure how many people knew of her position as Kilroy’s No.3 apprentice, but the information was best kept covert until such time that Gunther could announce her presence to the world. “I see. What is your Familiar’s original form.” “A Marten. With mana, it transformed into a Mongoose.” “May I see your second Familiar? The Void Beast?” “I am afraid not.” Kú's pen paused above her slate. “Wonsoo sealed it,” Gwen added helpfully. “I can’t call for Caliban right now.” “Back to our original question. What did you give your Marten?” “Three Cores. An Eland Core I bought from an Auction. A Draconic-Carp Core, and a Draconic-Stag Core.” “Retrieved from where?” Gwen gave Ku a wane smile which said ‘nice try’. “I see.” Ku tapped her slate. “Are you able to empower Ariel right now?” “Yes.” “Please do so.” “Ariel!” Up above, Ariel grew into its combat form, transforming into a magnificent pseudo-Kirin. “How wonderful. I need Lumen-Pics from all angles if you please.” Gwen coaxed Ariel to come closer, then paraded her Familiar like a show-dog at Crofts. She lifted its tail, struck out its chin, and lifted its paws for close-ups. More samples were collected with Ariel in its combat form. “You are a fortunate young woman.” Ku brushed a hand over her Familiar's back, startling motes of static electricity which leapt from Ariel's fur. Grimacing, the Diviner retreated her hand gingerly, shaking out the numbness. “There are stories of Familiars becoming Spirits, of course, but no replicable sample exists that we know of. Certainly, your Familiar's changes are tied to Kilroy's spell.” “The State’s not going to want Ariel for invasive tests, is it?” Gwen inquired worriedly. “No, Magister Wen of Fudan will take care of that. She has been given broad jurisdiction over the matter of reporting on your progress.” Gwen’s heart sank. Magister Wen wasn’t a malicious sort, but the woman was utterly amoral when it came to filling charts with numbers. Given the opportunity, the scholar would likely jump at the chance of dissecting Caliban or Ariel to figure out what made them tick. “Jun mentioned Draconic-Essence.” "Ah, of course.” Still thinking of Petra'a Master, Gwen funnelled what little Essence she had collated in the meanwhile into Ariel. Again, her Familiar took on the radiant form of the full-maned Kirin with the elongated fork-pronged horns and shimmering fur-scales. “Beautiful.” Kú breathed in. "It almost feels like the real thing, especially its presence." Ariel modelled for another round of Lumen-pics; before Ku was done, however, Gwen’s Familiar shrunk back to her marten form. “What happened?” the Assistant Chair demanded. “I am out of juice,” Gwen confessed. “It takes a long time to coalesce Draconic-essence.” “That makes sense, I suppose.” Kú noted the flaw down on her pad. "You're only human." “So, what’s going to happen with me?” “I thought you’d never ask." The woman packed away her implements. “Well, I am asking now,” Gwen fired back. “What do you think will happen to you?” “Again with the rhetorical questions.” Gwen’s patience was wearing threadbare. If the woman wanted to play the fortune teller, she could do it on a day when Gwen wasn’t so damned tired. “Assistant-Chair Tēng. I know Gunther has a thing going on with you guys, and that I've got limited options, so why don't we be 'forthright' with one another?” “That’s a bleak way of putting it.” Kú crossed her legs, though older, the woman rocked her pencil skirt; she reminded Gwen of a female CFO she had known from Westpac. “Let us be blunt then. The Secretary-General’s position is to ensure you do not become a point of tension between ourselves and the Mageocracy.” Gwen nodded. “Our only expectation is that you actively avoid putting yourself into a position which would flare those tensions. Territorial disputes; Political posturing; sabotaging Lord Ayxin's interest in your Uncle. Jun has informed you of the treaty we have with the Pudong Tower, yes?” The snide insert about Ayxin hadn't escaped Gwen's notice. “Wen’s research data?” “Yes, so long as both sides have equal access, you are free to do as you please.” “If I wish to leave the country?” "Go ahead. Jun is a loyal member of the CCP and the PLA. Your grandfather and grandmother are both our countrymen, so is your father and now your brother. You're welcome to return to the fold at any time; so long as your interests abroad does not conflict with ours." "Is that a threat?" "Are you going to be a threat?" Gwen sighed unhappily. Kú leaned forward, studying the young woman's vivid irises as the saturation of Gwen's hazel orbs reflected her lifting emotions. “Look...” Gwen took a deep breath. In Kú's eyes, the girl visibly squared her shoulders and arched her spine so that she sat upright and poised. “As you know, I came from Australia, an old British Penal Colony. I was a nobody - hell, in a place like the Oceania Frontier, I was meat. But as luck would have it, I awoke to rare talents I had no idea how to control, literally winning the bloodline lottery. During that very uncertain period of Spellcraft infancy, I was picked up like a stray cat by Magister Kilroy and his apprentices, Magus De Botton and Lord Shultz. They gave me a home in the Sydney Tower, taught me how to use my magic, and set me on the right path.” Gwen waited to see if Kú would interrupt her, then continued. “Until I had found allies like Magister Kilroy, my babulya, my friends in Sydney and my family here in Shanghai, I had no idea what I wanted, nor what I was going to do with my talents. Crystals? Sure, I could do with a mountain or two. Buy a big house, have a nice life, place by the Ocean, sans the Mermen; that sort of thing.” “Sounds nice. A good aspiration.” Ariel turned in Gwen's lap. Positing her Familiar, Gwen offered Assistant-Chair Tēng Ariel's super-soft belly. Gingerly, Kú dug her fingers into the luxurious fur. “And that would’ve been it. But Magister Kilroy told me that there are bigger things in this world than just sitting on your ass sipping a Tequila Sunrise, watching the surf at Bondi. A great man once said ‘With Great Power, comes Great Responsibility.’ My benefactor himself believed in Noblesse Oblige, the idea that Mages should take it upon their shoulders to elevate NoMs above their mediocre, poverty-stricken lives, or at the very least, show compassion and empathy for our fellow man.” “The Great Leader stated as much in his Manifesto,” Ku added, squeezing Ariel's beans. “I am in full agreement. Go on.” “Thank you, I appreciate it." Gwen wetted her lips quickly. "What Magister Kilroy gifted me was more than Spellcraft, more than his Signature Conjure Familiar. It was a goal that extended beyond myself. A goal that, with every tier of magic I master, I feel inching closer. As my power grows, so does the burden on my shoulders, and that’s why I strive always to surpass myself. For my immediate future, I want to represent Fudan in the IIUC. I’ll finish my degree here. I’ll graduate a Magus. After that, I want to help Gunther rebuild Sydney. If China wishes to be a part of that, you're welcome. If not, not my problem. THAT'S my honest opinion. I hope the Secretary-General is not going to think lesser of me.” Kú played with Ariel's tail. Got her! Gwen exalted internally. “What about Magister Kilroy’s killer?” Kú asked casually. Gwen stiffened. Kú smirked. “Well, given a chance…" Gwen licked her lips again. "I would like to see her returned to the Void." “I will pass on the sentiment.” Kú nodded, her face revealing neither agreement or malice. Gwen swallowed. Assistant Chair Tēng seemed amiable enough. It was time for a few questions of her own. “May I inquire as to the Secretary’s desire?” “Status quo.” Ku waved a hand over the samples, stowing them in her ring. “The country is in a good place at the moment. The past decade has seen minimal insurgency, and the Undead has been kept from the Xian-Beijing Front. It’s times like this that we need to build up our forces for the next big calamity.” Gwen nodded, a little unnerved by Kú's choice of words. 'The next big calamity?' Her grandfather had called her that when they first met. Ayxin had stated likewise, as had the Yinglong. “I understand,” Gwen answered. “I’ll keep out of trouble.” Ariel coiled again, its serpentine marten's body offsetting the tension. Without speaking, the two women listened to the bone-thrumming purr of Gwen's Kirin-like marten as they worked over its head, feet and tail. “Very well,” Kú replied eventually. “This concludes our meeting. I will inform the Secretary of my findings. Oh, and one more thing, young one.” “Yes, Ma’am?” “Don’t be so trusting, especially of those wearing a uniform.” “Ma’am?” Kú's chuckle broke into a laugh. What was that all about? Gwen wondered. “It was a pleasure speaking to you, Miss Song. I look forward to your progress.” “Thank you, Ma’am. I’ll not disappoint." “I have every confidence you won’t.” Kú took one last gander at Ariel, then picked herself from the seat. “An official announcement regarding your pseudo-Kirin will be sent out to relevant stakeholders, though I would personally advise keeping a low profile. It would be a fortuitous day when half of those under our jurisdiction believed in official notices. Never underestimate what people are willing to do to get their hands on a piece of semi-divinity.” "I'll be careful, Ma'am." ‘Ding!’ As though preplanned and divined in advance, a Message bloomed beside Kú's ear. “Sir? Yes, I am done here as well. I understand... Very well.” Kú turned toward Gwen amiably. “Looks like we’re all wrapped up. Your family is seeing off the Secretary-General. Shall we?” “Yes,” Gwen followed. Back in the outer courtyard, the party had reconvened. From the looks of it, the group had already bespoken their farewells when Gwen and Kú approached. "Xiao-Kú, allow me a good gander at our future Magus." The Secretary-General beckoned. Gwen bowed deeply. “I am flattered by your recognition, esteemed Sir,” she replied sheepishly. “Don’t mind the formality.” Secretary-General Miao approached. Strangely, it was as though the man had no aura at all; she may as well be addressing a NoM. Miao extended a hand. An opportunity! Gwen contemplated the unexpected prospect. First impressions were important! She had a split-second to react: years of ingrained professionalism took over. Gwen straightened her body, looked up with bright eyes, and gave Miao the most sugary smile she could muster under the circumstances. The two shook. Gwen had long since discovered the power of a submissive handshake, a poise uniquely exploitable by women, particularly attractive women. She lowered her shoulders, dipped her head, then took Miao’s hand with both hands. The ‘double-cusp’ it was called, delivered underhand, almost like a hug. Miao’s hand felt coarse and hard, rigid and skeletal; hers were soft, tender, and warm. “Thank you for looking after our family, Secretary General Miao. It put me at ease knowing that Grandfather has a reliable superior and that Uncle Jun is working under your esteemed guidance.” The Miao's mien took on a generous and expansive expression. “A fair flatterer!” the old man marvelled, smiling so much that his face became a mass of weathered lines. “Guo! You have a wonderful granddaughter; I am jealous!” “Please don’t mind her.” Guo awkwardly chuckled next to his superior. “Gwen, show Secretary Miao the proper respect.” “Please forgive my insolence.” Gwen bowed again, this time with her hands on her knees and her long hair cascading from her white neck. Her makeup, she mindfully noted, was still in ruins. “Nonsense!” The Secretary appeared pleased by her demure humility. Behind Miao, Kú fought back her mirth. “Sir.” She coughed. “We need to go. You have to be back in Beijing at 23:15.” “Of course.” Miao turned toward Ayxin, who stood with Jun. “Lord Ayxin, I hope Captain Song and yourself will usher forth a new era of cooperation between the PLA and the Lord of Huangshan. For now, please enjoy your stay in Pudong.” Ayxin remained attired in her Hello Kitty shirt, cutting a curious figure beside Gwen. “Thank you for the reception, Yang-Bò. I am sure Pudong will be a very interesting experience.” It was the first time that Gwen and Ayxin had stood side to side; the apparent similarities had not escaped the Secretary General’s sharp eyes. “Fair well.” The Secretary dipped his chin. The gathering saluted, bowed and curtsied. Meeting Gwen’s eyes, Kú began an incantation. A silvery Conjuration mandala formed on the floor of the outer courtyard. SHE WAS A CONJURER? Gwen baulked. Suddenly, the woman's advice made so much more sense. Kú had played her like a fiddle! Seeing her dismay, Kú Tēng, Assistant Chair to the Secretary-General, winked at Gwen, then moved aside as a portal connected Hangzhou and Beijing, where presumably a massive ISTC array fed power into the translocation spell. In the next moment, the Secretary and his men were gone. All that remained was the scent of burning silver in the air, sizzling away where the mandala’s reagents had eaten into the granite floor. The gathered members of the wedding party breathed out a collective gasp of relief. Magus Liu turned to Guo. The man bowed deeply. “Secretary Song, can you forgive a fool who was blinded by greed and ambition?” Gwen’s grandfather sighed. “We’re family now, Liu. Lets put this behind us, shall we?” “I cannot possibly repay you for your generosity,” Liu’s voice choked. The two old men held each other's hands and shook on the ceasefire agreement. It was a foregone conclusion, one that had been set the moment Miao arrived. The head of the CCDI wasn't going to allow his Chair of Confidential Communication to have a shit-fight with the man responsible for supplying Shanghai with grain. It would create chaos for his precious ‘status quo’, as Kú had so generously informed Gwen. Gwen felt a wave of revulsion. The two old crooks had been at each other's throat an hour ago! Bloody politics! “Gwen…” It was Qīn who now turned to Gwen. “I am sorry, for everything. My intentions weren’t pure. Can you please forgive me?” A blast of heady perfumed washed over Gwen’s nostrils, Qīn was inches from her face. There was a musky scent of old sex as well, one that Gwen as an inexperienced teenager could not have known, but as a veteran, prickled her nostrils. What the fuck? She glanced from Qīn to Hai, then back to the woman again. They had been gone an hour at most. To think that in a time like this, her father and step-mother still mustered enough libido to get it 'on' like they do on the Discovery Channel. “Of course,” Gwen replied, stepping away. “As grandfather said, we’re family now. We’re on the same team. Right? Not to mention I love those shoes, hahaha.” Qīn's face trembled with happiness, even though Gwen could feel the rigidity in her fingers. She was a woman being forced to put on a show, but Gwen couldn’t blame her stepmother. Qīn had her circumstances, such as being stuck with her asshole of a father, and that in itself would be torture enough. Why add insult to injury, especially as tomorrow, she would be back to Fudan. “Well, I am glad that’s resolved,” Jun interjected. “I’ll be taking Lord Ayxin-” “Jun~.” “...Ayxin. Back to Pudong first thing in the morning. They’re readying her accommodations, as well as a Shielding Key capable of supporting a being of her seniority.” Ayxin growled. “Uncle, such poor choice of words,” Gwen intervened. She took the opportunity to separate from Qīn, not wanting to think about where the woman's fingers had last been. Walking beside Ayxin, Gwen offered the Dragon-kin her off hand. Reflexively and a little perplexed, Ayxin took it. The two then shook in full view of the audience, two near-identical figures standing side by side. “Ayxin, I hope you enjoy Shanghai as much as I did. There’s lots of cuisine to eat, tons of interesting places to visit, clothes to buy, shoes to try. Let me tell ya, sweetheart, the number of outfits you could buy could fill up that cavern of yours up in Huangshan and then some. That Hello Kitty shirt? That’s just the beginning. I am sure Uncle Jun's company Currency-Card has no limit, right?” “I suppose.” Jun shrugged helplessly, feeling a terrible premonition, both for himself and the Operations Budgetary Office. “That sounds wonderful.” Ayxin tugged at her shirt, then looked toward Jun. “Yes, Ayxin.” Gwen smacked her lips. She had seen how Ayxin looked at her clothes on the Mount. The dragon-lady was strong, but not even a dragon-kin could escape the curse of vapid consumerism. “In the mortal world, we call it Retail Therapy. Endless shopping, unlimited budget, with Uncle Jun by your side, holding your bags. Every other woman, staring at you with nail-biting envy! You, my girl, are going to have a blast!” "Gwen-" Jun warned his niece. “I think I will.” Ayxin beamed, her eyes sparkling. “Yes, I would like that.” Jun groaned inwardly. Shopping? Endless shopping? He would rather face an endless Undead hoard. Beside her uncle, Gwen beamed - an innocent flower with a serpent's tongue. Jun felt an outbreak of cold sweat soaking his dress shirt. Was this Gwen’s revenge for his indiscretion with Ayxin? The girl's pettiness could rival a Dragon's!

Percy wondered if anything in the world could hurt more than walking with a gash in his gut. But the wound couldn't be helped. It was the first time he had fought anyone to the death. His instructors were right. When the shit came down; one should never underestimate an inferior enemy. That his opponent would struggle until her final, dying breath was a concept Percy understood intellectually but had never encountered in real life, much less vis-a-vis via a live spell exchange. The second assailant had been a Transmuter, though unlike the Abjurer, she had reached at least tier 2. Drunk on the acquisition of his new School of Magic, Percy had attempted to tank a Rock Shard, a sort of home-brew Barrage, only to have the obsidian spike pierce his Salt Shield, then slam into his abdomen. In the first split-second, he had thought his injury manageable with a little grit, his brain still in shock and denial. Then the pain hit, and Percy reeled, coiled over like a cooked prawn, gasping for breath as a white-hot wave of agony washed over his shell-shocked brain. ‘FUCK!’ he’d howled internally, forcing his eyes to open. So much for the power up. So much for discovering the greatest secret of the Song’s lineage. He was going to get murdered by a hobo in a temple, and it would take them days to find his desecrated corpse. He bet Gwen never got wounded by hobos, not even that time she supposedly Quested in the Blackheath slums. At any rate, by the time his brain moved past denial, the anguish was unreal. As the deserter-woman closed in, Percy's life flashed through his feverish brain. He thought about Gwen, his mother, Helena, his father, Hai, his babulya, and even his Grandfather, but most of all, he thought about his aborted future: his titles, his House, his position in the PLA. “Stone Spike!” “Jump!” Percy wasn’t too sure how he’d survived the fight, but he figured that it must have been the ingrained training from Guo kicking in. He vaguely recalled that he maneuvered away from the blast of spindly stone, then fired off two Salt Shards in quick succession while in mid-air, a feat he’d hitherto never accomplished, taking the astonished woman in the gut. As she fell, choking on her own blood, leaking excreta, he had rushed toward her, bowled the vagabond over, caught her by the throat, then activated another ‘Drain Life’. ‘Holy crap I am good,’ he remembered thinking. Was it the adrenaline? Enchanters had a spell called Heroism that could temporarily lessen pain and increase physical and mental alacrity. Transmuters had a spell called Unyielding Body which performed a similar function. For Percy, the feeling was akin to a training-trance when one pushed past the pain and entered a kind of nirvana-like state, awakening only when the timer blared. Usually, it took him almost fifteen minutes of concentration to activate the Blessing of the Kirin, but just now, he had used the elaborate Necromantic ritual as though it were a Salt Blast or a Chain of Salt. By the time his second victim became desiccated, Percy had restored enough vitality to regain a clarity of mind, though his wound oozed, it was no longer dire. Searching through his Storage Ring, Percy produced a Healing Potion. “Tssss~!” While the potion staunched his bleeding, an unbidden insight blossomed within the chaotic recess of Percy’s stimuli-addled Astral Soul, bringing with it an acute awareness of just how far up shit creek he had inadvertently paddled. 'You fucked up,' Percy's brain declared mercilessly. Without a doubt, he had just violated some major-tier manifesto regarding both the preservation of the House of Song’s secret and the non-proliferation of Necromancy. What would happen when someone inevitably found out? Would he be sent to that infamous prison near Hongqiao, the Tianlanqiao? How could the future heir of the House of Song, one who sought to resurrect the House's bygone glory, be the very one to bring its demise? Percy’s temples throbbed. He was most definitely up shit creek. And HOLY FUCK he just lost the paddle. Panic germinated from the pit of the boy's stomach, twisting and turning, gripping his heart with skeletal fingers, pinching his arteries and wringing his chest with sadistic intensity. What should he do? Who could help him now? Gwen? His sister's face was first and foremost on his mind. When Hai was out playing with women, Gwen had made him breakfast. When Helena was too upset to show up for their weekly dinner, Gwen had taken him down to the local RSL for phó. When it was New Years, and neither of their parents were around, Gwen had taken him to see the fireworks at Darling Harbour; she even bought him a Big Mac with her part-time money. She had always given him her things, while he had gotten used to taking them. And now, Gwen had given up their father’s amulet. A new agony seized Percy’s breath; it was like that proverbial trope where an angel and a devil duked it out within one's conscience; only within Percy's head, there were two devils - Guilt and Envy, jostling for dominance. Out of habit, he thumbed his amulet. The smooth texture of the stone, its all-too-familiar design, comforted him. Going to Hai was a joke. Going to Jun was an unknown. Going to Guo? It was social and filial suicide. Going to Gwen for help? Percy was surprised that he found the prospect plausible. What was the alternative? Bury the bodies? Never use his newfound power again? A spark of hope flickered within the darkness of his despair. No. Gwen was living proof it could work. His sister had kept the family secret and thrived, hadn't she? There was no reason why the Songs couldn’t accommodate another. He was sure that Uncle Jun, or at least his Grandfather, would be more than happy to provide him with the means to become the most potent heir the House of Song had ever seen, elevating House Song beyond its mundane strata. As for his sister, his beef with her was irrelevant. It was a problem of his immaturity and his insecurity. An issue of her overwhelming excellence. But those barriers were no longer applicable. He was just like his sister now. They could fight together. Adventure together. Be together. The ‘Dynamic Duo!’ the Mage-world would call them. “Haha!” Percy sniggered, his choking chortle sounding strange and hollow. He tried recalling where he’d heard the idiomatic phrase, except the laughter brought a new wave of agony. “Ergh…” Percy popped another healing potion, but the Positive Energy diminished by his Salt-corrupted constitution. Despite his self-medication, the wound continued to weep. With nought but pure grit, he 'cleaned up' the scene, then limping and staggering, Percy wandered back to the manor. As a guest residing in the West Wing, he possessed a Warding Glyph which allowed him passage through the siheyuan’s perimeter. Seeking discretion, Percy entered from the south side’s servant’s quarter via a Jump, then ducked between the artistically landscaped faux-ponds and granite mountains. With his sister's guestroom in sight, he stopped to catch his breath. His abdomen was now smarting something fierce, while his brain remained conflicted about his decision to trust Gwen. “Ooo~, so good…” Gwen's voice came through the window. “Oh~ yeah, that IS nice…” Petra’s soft moaning followed. “Squeeze this part…” "Oooh!” Percy hesitated. Was now the best time to break the news? * * * “Where do you suppose Percy’s gone?” Gwen asked Petra. After the fiasco, the girls had retired to their guest quarters in the south wing. Most of the wedding guests were gone, though a few stragglers elected to remain overnight. Taking advantage of the vacancy, Petra had moved in adjacent to her cousin, desiring to catch up on recent events. As for Mina and Tao, their mother had preferred Teleportation, seeing as crystals weren’t a concern for the Wangs, and that the woman had no desire to stay in the Liu’s estate for a single minute longer than necessary. After a brief goodbye, the siblings promised to organise a catch up once they were back in Shanghai, bidding Gwen and Petra farewell. “I have no idea.” Petra’s husky-blue eyes flashed with displeasure. “From what you’ve told me of his deeds, I fail to comprehend why you’re so hung up on the little twat.” “Well, he’s my brother, for one,” Gwen stated as though she had delivered an exhaustive response on the matter. “I'd be careful. Percy's belly might be full, but his eyes are always hungry.” Petra jeered. “You won’t see me inviting him on July the 8th, there's no family and certainly no faith in the boy.” “That's a little harsh?” Gwen nudged her cousin jovially, causing her to almost slip from the single bed. “He’s just a whiny kid who wants his piece of the world. It’s a perfectly normal response for someone undergoing his developmental stage. He thinks he's a Judge, but he's just a kid with a wispy wig, haha- ouch!” Gwen bumped her head. Petra half-sighed, half-groaned, rolling her neck to work out a kink. The post-framed single bed was somewhat cramped, barely boxing in two six-foot women and a four-foot pseudo-Kirin. But the girls didn't mind. It was cosy, not to mention they were playing with Gwen's Familiar. Ariel’s meaty feet-pads had become divine objects of orgiastic tactile worship, pink-fetishes capable of setting off oxytocin in the most stout-hearted cynic. With conversation at a standstill, the duo focused on molesting Ariel, digging their long white fingers through the soft rush of its undercoat, manipulating its body this way and that. "Eeee... eEE... Eee." Ariel wiggled. “Ooo… Ariel's new fur feels so good, such softness." “Oh~ yeah, that IS nice…” Petra squeezed the frog of Ariel's hoof, splaying the fur. They were two perfect stress-pads, warm and springy, with just the right amount of tension. “Squeeze this part…” "EN-HUGNN..." The moan was a little TOO masculine to belong to Petra. ‘Knock! Knock! Knock!’ Came the sound, thrice at the door. The girls ceased their lallygagging. “A visitor?” Gwen turned to Petra, her face full of bemusement. “At this time of night, tapping at my chamber door?” "Who could it be?" “Better not be a bloody Raven.” Gwen turned to command her Familiar. "Don't you mean a Jackdaw?" Petra asked, recalling a famous poem. “Ariel, can you check it out? If it starts rhyming, eat it.” “EE!” Ariel floated from her arms, drifting toward the door. The sight of Gwen's flying pseudo-Kirin still filled Petra with wonder. Lacking wings, whatever Ariel was using to fly was supernatural, an ability tied to the Elemental Plane of Air. “EEeee?!” Ariel be-screeched the door. The silence outside remained unbroken; the stillness of the air gave no token. “!” Gwen felt a curious tingle in her bosom. Gauging the intensity, she determined that whatever was outside wasn't dangerous. Taking Mayuree’s advise, she had elected to ignore minor 'tingles', as ‘avoiding every mishap,’ would make her abnormally 'interesting' life impossible. Back in Fudan, every Mage frightened by Caliban could tickle her spine. Sensing no physical danger, Gwen opened the door. “Hey, Sis,” a young man's voice called out to her. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Gwen spun on her heels. There was Percy, her brother, the very devil they were ragging on just a second ago, laying half-slumped on the floor. “PERCY! What are you doing here!” Gwen knelt, placing a hand on Percy’s shoulders as to help him sit. “Shhhh~.” Percy groaned. “Sorry Sis, I fucked up.” “W-what did you do?” Gwen quickly inspected her little brother. Following the blood trail, she spotted the wound near his abdomen. “SHIT! You're bleeding! Oh my God! PETRA!” “On it!” Petra put a hand to her Message Device. “No!” Percy raised a trembling hand. “Please, no Grandfather. No commotion.” Gwen halted Petra’s Message. “Percy, what the hell happened to you?” “I swam up shit-creek, Sis. I am sorry.” Percy’s face was as white as a sheet. “Have you got… a Healing spell? My injectors' are on cool-down.” “I got better,” Petra tsked. “Here, stay still.” She produced a Spell-Cube. “Cure Moderate Wounds!” “Ooo! That prickles!” Percy rolled to one side, gasping for breath. Visibly, his flesh mended, the nerve endings flaring as though ten thousand ants ate away at Percy's injury. By now, the commotion had attracted NoM servants. Gwen shooed them away, then gingerly pulled Percy into her guest room, hoping that none of the other guests had decided to have a sticky-beak at 2 AM in the morning. “God you're strong,” Percy marvelled at the ease by which his sister picked him up with both arms then placed him upon her bed. He was almost six-feet by now, athletically muscled, weighing in at nearly seventy-odd kilograms. “Shut up, fat ass,” Gwen chided her brother. "Don't move! You'll agitate the wound." The girls laid Percy on the bed, then settled by his side. “What happened?” Percy caught his breath as the healing spell finished its run. “Sis…” the boy looked more vulnerable than she had ever seen him; his visage was so pale and loitering that Gwen’s heart melted. “I killed someone.” “…” “…” It took several seconds for the news to register. “Like, a person?” Gwen inquired, wondering if her ears were deceiving her. “You heard him right.” Petra finally breathed out. “How did you receive that wound, Percy?” “I am sorry,” Percy repeated the phrase like a mantra, his eyes hunted by dark thoughts. Could the boy be suffering from post-traumatic stress? Gwen wondered, playing the armchair psychologist. She had read about the infamous disorder in the Goodweekend Magazine when they interviewed ASDF soldiers returning from Iraq. “It’s okay, we’ll deal with it,” Gwen assured her brother. The important thing, the article had said, was helping the victims understand why the trauma happened, and that they could control their unbidden episodes. “Just tell us what happened.” Percy took a deep breath. Gwen's gentle demeanour as she knelt beside him was exceptionally compelling. The boy's words came slowly, reluctantly. “When I saw your Kirin…” “Eeh?” Ariel flittered around Percy, then patted his head. "Eee!" “… I felt this... insane jealousy,” Percy muttered, his face a mask of shame and misery. “The idea that you found a Spirit of all things ate me up. It was the last straw, and I guess something snapped inside my head and I sort of just… ran like an idiot.” Poor sod, Gwen patted Percy's hand, mimicking Ariel. The green-eyed monster had almost claimed another victim. Jealousy was like that; it could turn virtue to pitch, brother against sister. “I didn't mean it, Percy …” Gwen moped. “Percy, get to the point.” Petra felt a natural dislike for Percy's simpering. The boy was usually such an arrogant little 'young master' that his sudden demureness rubbed her the wrong way. She had seen plenty of whelps who thought themselves too good for the world in Moscow, but she had never seen a single one of them overcome with remorse because they took a human life. In their world, it was undeniable that life was cheap. NoMs died by the tens of thousands from starvation, predation, and human causes, what's another corpse if it was no one important? Of all their relatives, Petra disliked Percy the most. Tao was annoying, but the young man was usually well-meaning; Mina was vapid, but she had a good heart; Richard? She liked Richard - as for Percy, Petra possessed an earnest desire to punch his teeth out. “Out with it! What happened?” “Pats! He’s in a fragile state of mind!” Gwen growled like a young leopardess defending its young. “Percy, you can tell us anything. Pats is worried, just like I am.” “O-Okay…” Gwen's brother swallowed. Percy steadied himself, then began to tell his tale. “So… like an idiot, I ran from the Estate. I was upset and super pissed. I wanted to blow off some steam by going to West Lake and fire off a few Salt Bolts into the water.” “Go on.” “I felt better, so I wandered around. Eventually, I got to this abandoned temple complex. At first, I thought it was empty, so I did some angry yelling…” “Oh, Percy…” Gwen placed a hand on his thigh. “Understandable, keep going.” Petra scoffed. Gwen shot her cousin a look that said ‘come on, Cuz, cut me some slack.’ “...After a while, I got tired. It was stupid because I knew I had overtaxed myself. That means I had to use this-” Percy took out the pendant. “WOAAAA…” Gwen stood between Petra and Percy. “Percy, we’re with… good company. Maybe you should speak to Grandfather or Father about this. Also, I might not be the best person to consult about 'the pendant'.” “Someone saw me.” "WHAT!" Gwen almost leapt from the side of the bed. “SOMEONE SAW YOU?!” “They were ROGUE MAGES! DESERTERS!” Percy petulantly protested. “They attacked me first! I defended myself!” "Bloody hell, Percy..." “I think they were living there,” Percy blubbered. “They wouldn’t let me go because I would have reported them. I couldn’t bluff them either, because I was wearing this…” Indeed, Percy was wearing a very expensive looking tuxedo. “So you killed them?” Petra asked in Gwen’s stead. “Yes!” Percy groaned. "Just like that?" Petra interjected. "Also, you said they. Earlier, you said 'one'. What's happening, Percy?" "Pats, Percy's confused. We've both been through this. We know how bad it can get in the heat of the moment. Give the boy a chance to explain." “Numbers and specs, Percy.” “An… Abjurer.” Percy breathed out. “As for the other one, I think a Transmuter.” “Sanctioned?” Percy shook his head. “Tier 1 or 2? Were they Chinese?” “Yes, they were Chinese; they were barely tier 2.” “How did they get through your Salt Shield?” “I panicked. I tried to take out the Abjurer first, and couldn’t keep my Shield up.” The girls looked at each other. "How did some vagabond Mages wound you?" Petra frowned. Usually, deserters fled when confronted. What made them want to stay and fight a properly trained Mage? “It’s the first time… I had to fight someone seriously,” Percy confessed. “I still can't believe I killed them. They were just two women.” “A woman?” Gwen raised her head. “TWO? You killed TWO women?” “Vot der'mo!” Petra swore. For Gwen, the reality of Percy’s confession struck her like a bolt to the brain. Her brother, a killer? He was just a boy. What a fucked up world. Then again, were her hands so clean? There were accidents, such as those poor sods at Blackheath and that poor pig-tail woman in Hengsha. Then there were those she had willingly murdered, like Faceless, Nephres, and then Choi. She felt as though she had to do something. What had she desired after the deed? After stepping back, her feet inch-deep in blood and her hands scarlet with coagulated gore? What could she give Percy that no one had given her? Compassion, perhaps. Empathy. Someone who didn't think killing was no big deal. Someone who understood. “Oh, you poor thing.” She enveloped her brother with both arms. “It’s okay Percy. We'll get through this.” Surprised by her unconditional affection, Percy dug his face against her collarbone, breathing heavily, as though taking in a part of her. “Thanks for understanding, Sis, but I’ve got bigger problems.” “Bigger… problems?” “I used… 'you know what' on one of those Deserters.” ‘The... erm... Amulet?’ Gwen took a moment before she digested the full extent of Percy’s doubly horrid confession. “Yeah, the Kirin Stone…” “Holy shit, Percy…” Gwen looked over at Petra. “Should I leave?” Petra inherently understood that this was ‘one of those times’. “I am sorry, Petra,” Gwen apologised guiltily. “This isn't something I have jurisdiction on.” “It’s fine.” Petra picked up her jacket. “I’ll be in my room.” Gwen wanted to apologise, but her cousin was far too a consummate professional to linger. Families had their secrets. Petra knew the Songs' had theirs. If she was to know, Gwen would tell it. No mere secret could drive a wedge between them. “Gwen.” Percy waited until Petra audibly entered her room. “I life-drained one of them.” “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!” Gwen hissed, thinking of uncle Jun, thinking of babulya and the family. If anyone should find out, it would be the end of the Songs. "How is it even possible? The spell is incomplete! It's not supposed to be Nec- the N word. Its just a part of the ritual, right?" “I got scared… I was low on vitality. They caught me in the middle of the ritual. I was almost OOM, and it just… happened.” Her brother groaned; a wail of abject misery tinged with desperation. “Fuck’n oath Percy.” She leaned back, but soon changed her mind. Instead, Gwen wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Gods, we’re a fucked up duo, you and I.” “Not only that,” Percy continued, his voice barely a whisper. “I think I stole her Abjuration talent.” Gwen's arm turned rigid. Talent Consumption? Percy wasn't a Void Mage, so how was such a thing possible? Shivering, she thought of Edgar. The young man could use his Dust Devil to drain the vitality from its victims. He had done it to Debora, or was it Faceless? She knew for sure he had done it to her. But it wasn't as though anyone knew how Caliban's Consume worked, it was just an observable phenomenon. “Its true,” Percy muttered guiltily. “Look.” Her brother got off the bed and stood in the centre of the unfurnished room. “Shield!” A semi-dome consisting of a thin layer of Salt spontaneously appeared. Gwen recognised the tell-tale signs of Abjuration. It was nothing impressive. Almost every Mage at Fudan could manifest a split-second Shield, but Percy had just begun his training. Abjuration was one of his secondary schools, one that required time and dedication. “I could barely reflex-cast my Shield before, and the lag was usually half a second,” Percy explained. “But now… you know.” Gwen did know. She had walked the same well-worn path. Gwen's recollection brought memories of the aftermath of Blackheath. Though her knowledge of Spellcraft had been dog shit and she had a terrible understanding of theory, she could sudden Shield herself like a bona fide Abjurer, going as far as to undertake Gunther's Signature non-Newtonian Shield. “Tell me again what happened.” Gwen attempted to retrace Percy's steps. Percy explained as before: he was almost OOM when the two attacked him. He tried taking down the Abjurer, but the Transmuter got him. In desperation, Percy ended up breaking through the Abjurer’s Shield, used Drain Life while wounded, then used his replenished vitality to overpower the second attacker. Unfortunately, his vitality and his mana weren't holding up, so he ended up using the AOE effect of Drain Life to nail the Transmuter. “Where are the bodies?” Gwen loathed the prospect of having to go and clean up Percy's mess. “In here.” Percy flashed a Medium Storage Ring. “I am sorry? You mean-” “They just fit,” Percy explained nervously. “They were both very short and very… skinny.” Gwen stared at Percy's ring finger in horror. “Percy… God! Eurgh... why?” “I just-” "Just... think of a way to dispose of it." “What should I do?” Percy choked. “I got scared. I wanted to go to the authorities, hand myself in, I believe I am justified in defending myself. But if they find the Necroma-” “SHUSH! SHHHH!” Gwen cupped his lips. “Don't speak the N-word.” Her brother nodded obediently. Gwen wracked her brain for a logical outcome. Her brother had killed in self-defence. His victims were vagabonds and deserters, according to Percy. Usually, that meant they had to file a report. With Percy’s connection and the Lius now under their thumb, her Grandfather could easily prove his innocence. BUT - what if the coroner detected Necromancy on the corpses? How the fuck were they going to explain that? What if someone else used Percy's crime as an excuse to play silly buggers with the Songs, as the Lius would have done? Perhaps they should bury the bodies, smite the evidence. No, that wouldn’t work either. How the fuck do two teenagers hide evidence in a world with bloody Divination? What if some someone ‘dousing’ upped a corpse or some shit? Cremate the cadavers? Where the fuck are they going to find a crematorium? Get Uncle Jun in on this? Did she REALLY want Jun to play clean-up while Ayxin watched? What the hell are they would they say to the Dragon-kin? Hey, let me borrow uncle Jun for a bit, we need to turn some bodies to ash, you want in on this action? Percy moved his hand over the floor. Two corpses materialised. Both were dressed in rags. The first one was barely five-foot-two, skeletal and gaunt, with yellow skin that sagged from her bones. The second was likewise slumped over, but there was a wound on her gut, its jagged wound suggesting a Salt Shard. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” Gwen hissed, overwhelmed by the sight and stench. “PERCY! WHY would you dump them HERE of all places?!” Percy stared at his sister, dumbstruck. “I thought you wanted to see…” ‘Creak…’ The noise may very well have been the innocent swaying of an unlocked door or window, but to Gwen, with the evidence of her brother’s kills fresh on the floor, the noise may as well be a SWAT team bursting through the window. A flush of scarlet washed over Gwen's ashen face. “Caliban!” Nothing. Caliban remained dormant. “SHIT!” Should she force Percy to stow the corpses again? She could stow them herself, but the thought of having her Ring play home to fresh cadavers, especially ones that reeked like rancid cheese and old, mouldy rags, petrified her. She would have to do this the hard way. “Percy, stand back.” Percy did as he was told. Forcing her mind into painful focus, she channelled a glob of Void matter, then deposited the tenebrous mass onto the horrid shapes below her. To Gwen's relief. It worked. There were now two craters in the middle of the room. Blood, hair and clothes, even the pavement below had been sent into the Void. Bloody oath, I would make an excellent Season 1 and 2 Dexter, Gwen studied her handiwork, then felt immediately overwhelmed by the reality of what she had just done. FUCK, I just became an accessory to Murder! She looked over at Percy. Her brother was staring at the missing granite slabs as though in a trance. Gwen sighed. “Percy, come here.” Her brother came to her, his feet like lead, his dazed orbs the eyes of a haunted man. “It’ll be okay, bud.” She kissed him on the forehead. That’s what Gwen would have wanted when everything had gone to shit. Someone to hold her, to tell her everything was dandy and that life would go on as before. She mustered her best smile for her brother. Percy's eyes were like their father’s; two dark hazel orbs hidden behind long slits that softened an otherwise angular face. His mouth, and his nose, however, were from Helena, a little overtly sensuous for a boy, giving Percy a permanently sulky expression that Gwen knew some girls would love. Percy. The Gwen of this world had loved her brother as well, even knowing that their vastly different magical talent would drive them apart. Was it genuine affection? Or was it a condition of her loneliness, Gwen would never know. In her old world, she had fancied herself a mother to her adolescent sibling, taking him out to dinner when neither of their parents came home, helping him with homework, buying him study guides with her part-time job money. In Percy's eyes, she saw hope, desperation, awe... and hunger. It was good that Percy came to her, confessing his jealousy, looking to her to save him from himself. She had thought the boy gone down a Path she couldn't follow, but now his prodigious return made her giddy with happiness. Like Pope said, "To err is human; to forgive, divine." Percy had learned to accept her help; his coming to her of all people after a singularly traumatic event was all the proof she needed that she meant something to him, that he trusted her enough to rely on her, and that alone drowned out the noise from becoming an accomplice. In the secret court of her heart, she had acquitted Percy on all accounts. “Sis…” Her brother nuzzled her shoulders. His hair had a scent of brine, like the ocean. But the time for sentimentalism was over. It was time for action. “Percy, we can’t keep this from the people we love,” she advised, dispensing the foresight of her adult mind. “You need help, and I need help. We need to tell Grandfather. He was the one who taught you the Rite, yeah?” “The 'Secret' Rite,” Percy noted with a hint of sardonicism. “Look, I’ve 'heard' of it,” Gwen continued. “That’s not important right now. We need to fortify your secret with as many trustworthy custodians as we can. Should we tell Uncle Jun and Dad?” “… Probably not Dad.” Gwen tittered, her sniggering bitter and full of disappointment. “Alright… Jun and Grandfather then. I’ll Message them now.” “Sis?” Gwen paused in the process of activating her Message Device. “Thanks.” “Hey.” Gwen flicked her hair cooly. “No worries, Champ. I got your back.” Percy laughed. It was a sound thrilling to her ear, a sound she hadn't heard since Sydney. It was good to see that her brother still had a sense of humour, though now she had a far more harrowing task at hand. She hoped to God that Jun wasn’t doing the horizontal draconic-fandango when she rang. She made sure that her Message was on silent. “I’ll be back, stay here.” Gwen made the calls outside, leaving her brother in the bedroom to ruminate on what he would say to Guo and Jun. “Hi, Uncle Jun? You asleep? Er, is this a good time? Is it? Okay! Good! Ha! Thank God, phew! Hahaha- anyway, we got a situation here…” * * * Percy watched his sister through a gap left by the door. Curiously, after his 'bonding' with the amulet, The Kirin Stone no longer ‘went ape-shit’. It had remained dormant the whole while they had conversed, even when she hugged him. “Ariel, come here,” he commanded her Familiar. “Eeee?” Ariel drifted closer. Percy ran a hand through its mane, feeling its luxurious coat run through his fingers. “Beautiful.” “Eee!” Ariel coiled itself around its mistress’s kin, sensing her familiar scent about his body, his hand, and his hair. “But you’re imperfect.” Percy allowed Ariel’s tiny whisker-tentacles to play with his fingers. “You have lots of room to grow yet.” “Eee! Eee.” Ariel's draconian nose sniffed Percy's hand. "EE?!" it recoiled, seemingly confused. "Ariel?" Gwen pushed through the door of her bedroom. "What's wrong?" "Nothing." Percy carefully slipped his hand into his pockets. "I was playing with Ariel. He's gotten cuter!" "Isn't he?!" Gwen beamed. Her expression said to Percy that the Guo and Jun would both be joining the two of them. “Righto jackaroo." His sister slapped his back. "Saddle up; you and I, we're in for a wild ride."

Hai rested his face against his wife’s milky abdomen, listening for the heartbeat that may even now be finding its pulse. The room was a mess, but that was fine, the NoM servants would restore it to pristineness tomorrow. “Hai?” Qīn’s fatigue-riddled face turned toward him in the darkness. “Is something wrong?” “Nothing, my love, go back to sleep.” Hai brushed her forehead with his lips. The usual Qīn would have kissed him then queried him until she was satisfied, for the moment though, his wife was arguably and understandably exhausted. The Wedding. Gwen's fiasco. The Patriarchs' bitter dispute. Gwen's fiasco, redux. Secretary Miao's visit. As any soul with half-a-heart would heartily agree, his wife deserved the rest. Hai dug his face into Qīn’s voluminous hair. He loved the scent of vitality radiating from her scalp, the softness of her supple skin; the warmth she exuded effortlessly. It was in moments like these that Hai felt genuinely happy. Happy - and a little paranoid that his fragile happiness wouldn't last. There had been a near-miss right after they had left the aftermath of the wedding. It was the reason why the room smelled like burnt paper right now, despite the Gust of Wind he had operated for half an hour. After her father's disgrace, Qīn had stormed back into her room, screaming ‘I can’t even talk to you right now!' He had chased her all the way into the interior of her bedroom, where she dispelled an illusionary wall, revealing a hidden alcove. Curious, Hai had followed his wife, then immediately regretted his decision. Qīn was tearing down a wall scroll. It was a picture in his likeness from many years ago. On the table were chunks of pink salt, which tended to naturally form if he fought on water or areas with high humidity. There was a splayed, leather-bound volume as well, filled with old newspaper clippings of his past exploits in the military, as well as other propaganda pieces about when the ‘Song Brothers’ were still a thing. If Hai had to be honest with himself, he felt unnerved but a little pleased. To think Qīn had waited for him this whole while, alone and loitering, even knowing that he was 'dead'. Hai knew that if it were him in her place, there would be no chance he could muster the conviction to ‘wait’ for a woman, much less lose a decade of his life. But of course, his wife was now in the process of tearing down her ‘shrine’. His callousness had broken her heart. “Qīn! Calm down! Hey!” Hai approached his wife. “No!” Qīn’s mascara was running down either side of her creamy white face like squid ink. “I can’t believe you didn’t help daddy! Your peasant family humiliated him, Hai! Humiliated him! I felt like I could have died right there! If I could have killed myself to save him from that experience, I would have!” “But…” Hai scratched his head. “I KNOW!” Qīn wailed. “Mao! Oh, Hai - I knew you couldn’t do anything. You ran away from your father, didn't you? You faked your death! But I had HOPED! I had a little spark of wishful, HOPEful thinking that maybe, just maybe, you could have done something!” “I did do something… it was Gwen-” “Then Gwen exposed you for the man you truly are! A RUNNER! When things get too hard, you RUN! ARE YOU GOING TO LEAVE ME NOW?” “Qīn, that’s not true,” Hai protested. “YES, IT IS!” Qīn touched a hand to her belly. “Poor child… poor baby…” God damn it! Hai snarled internally, feeling the descend of torturous anxiety enveloping his mood like a dark shroud. Qīn was right though; he had a half-a-mind to get the fuck out of here while everyone was busy entertaining Secretary-General Miao. Why was it that every time he achieved a little happiness, people from his family came and shat all over it. Was it so hard to get the fuck on with their own lives? To leave him to live his life in peace? Was that so impossible? The wedding wasn’t even for him or Qīn; they could have just eloped and be done with it. They could be happy somewhere, ANYWHERE that’s not here, living off his Abjuration and her Healing. But Qīn loved her father, and he couldn't force her to leave Hangzhou. Earlier, Qīn had demanded that he 'do something'. He did. It wasn't enough, but he did it anyway. Put himself out there like a worm for hens to mercilessly peck and quarrel. "Waaaaa~" Qīn's wail was heartbreaking. He had to do something. Hai summoned the courage that came naturally to him in moments like these; he strode toward Qīn with the conviction of a martyr going to the cross, spitting at sneering Romans along the way. “Create Flame.” Hai set the scrapbook on fire. "!" His wife recoiled from the scrapbook, her misery suddenly replaced by shock. Her face was streaked with tears and fraught with fury, caught between wanting to preserve her childhood memento and letting it burn, like her marriage. From behind, Hai's arms wrapped around his wife’s waspish waist. The act surprised Qīn at first; then she began to violently struggle, beating his hand with her fists. "Let me go! Let me go you bastard!" “Qīn.” Hai held his wife tightly, ignoring her protest. “I love you.” Qīn's trashing visibly grew tame. “I won’t leave you, and I won’t leave our child,” Hai whispered beside her ear. Her struggling ceased. “You won’t?” “No, not now, and not ever. I’d rather leave my parents, leave Gwen, leave all of them behind than leave you.” Qīn gasped; she turned to putty in his arms. “…” She then began to sob. “I don’t believe you.” “Then we can leave right now.” “Where will we go?” “Anywhere you want. Just pick a direction, and we’ll be on our way. It’ll work out.” The idea of ‘leaving’ struck Qīn like a bolt from the blue. It was such a romantic notion, and it was just like Hai. Just trying to imagine the two of them escaping from home and going on a life-long adventure had her heart in stitches. Her face flushed, her breath came in shallow gasps, her bosoms rose and fell dramatically. Perhaps not surprisingly, she could feel Hai stabbing her thighs with the proof of his commitment. “We can’t…” “We can,” Hai stated affirmatively. “Just say the word.” “No.” Qīn refused, fearful of what she might undertake in the passion of the moment. When she seriously entertained the notion, Qīn found the idea of a future without the House of Liu, without the familiar siheyuan, without her koi- well, her koi were dead now. Nonetheless, the abandonment of her family was abhorrent to her, and it made her all the happier for Hai's proclamation. “Hai, we can’t just leave. Daddy needs me now more than ever; it’ll break his heart. Not to mention your daughter, your parents…” “Then I’ll stay here with you. I don’t care what deal the family has made, Qīn. In the end, this is our marriage. It’s just you and me. It’s our right to be selfish; it's our life, our happiness, not your father’s, not my father’s and certainly not Gwen’s. ” Hai needn't even have finished before Qīn melted into his arms, silencing him with her peach-petal lips. The warm glow from the flaming scrapbook illuminated their faces with dancing flickers of orange light, juxtaposing the acrid smell of diffused ink, old leather, and lacquer. “Salt Bolt!” A cascade of Salt washed over the burning effigy, snuffling the light. Qīn launched her own assault, infusing Hai's abdomen with positive energy. And that’s how they had spent the hour or so until they had to send off Secretary General Miao. Upon their return, Hai and Qīn had mucked about the entire room, as Gwen had once noted with asinine peevishness, like ‘goats and monkeys’. An inestimable number of 'rounds' later, Qīn was OOM. She collapsed beside her once again loving husband, sticky with musk, fast asleep. Hai breathed out. His whole body was sore, and his legs trembled, and certain parts of his anatomy had pings and needles. It was done. By all accounts, he had sheltered his little corner of the world. His wife’s milky form lay beside him, and their future was arguably going to be uneventful. Still, Hai felt an interminable 'bad feeling'. Naked and sweltering, he shivered. He embraced his wife. As a Positive-Energy Mage, her quick metabolism meant she had a very snuggle-worthy body temperature. He hoped, somewhat naively, that Gwen had no more grievances waiting to be unloaded. She was no longer a little girl, and her continued obsession with his life had gone on for far too long. With any luck, Gwen would be back to Fudan, back to her ‘interesting’ life of power and turbulence, leaving him to his boring old honeymoon on the placid surface of the West Lake. On the other side of the estate, a conspiracy of Songs convened. It was impossible to know if such a thing as ‘privacy’ existed in the Liu’s estate, and so Jun had suggested for Gwen offered up her Portable Habitat. Now gathered together in the living room, the three junior Songs stood uncomfortably opposite their patriarch. Guo. Jun. Percy. Gwen. One of these is not like the others, Gwen noted. “You… told her. Without my permission.” Gwen further noted acidulously that her grandfather’s accusation was not a question but a statement. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. "Grandfather, I hardly think this is the time to be bickering about-" Gwen began. “I did. I informed Gwen while we were on Huangshan,” Jun interjected between the old man and his granddaughter. “And I intend to teach her the Rite when the time comes. You can’t deny her now, not after all that she’s done for us tonight.” Beside the uncle-niece duo, Percy's expression took on one of confusion and contemplation. “I-I see.” Guo’s fury was starved of its indignant fuel; he had indeed promised his youngest. He turned his head ever slightly toward Gwen. “I can’t deny that she has earned that privilege. Gwen?” “Yes, Grandfather?” “Tell us what has happened.” Gwen back-peddled until she stood behind Percy. For once in her life, it wasn't her who stuck some crackers up the cat's arse. “First of all, I am perfectly fine.” She watched her uncle raise a brow. “Yeah, I know, I can’t believe it either. This time its Percy who’s in trouble. BIG trouble. We did what we could to mitigate the damage, but as I’ve said to Percy, there’s no point keeping secrets from family! Right, Percy?” Guo glanced at Jun, who cleared his throat. “Percy.” Gwen prodded her brother's spine; he'd been as quiet as a church mouse the whole time. “Tell them what you told me.” "We're all here to help you, Percy," Jun encouraged the boy as well, following Gwen's lead. Guo grunted. "Percy, speak." “A-alright.” Under the watchful eye of his family, Percy rustled up his courage. In affirmation of Gwen's growing validation of her brother, he bared the naked truth. Percy told Jun and Guo that he had become increasingly jealous of Gwen ever since her awakening as a Lightning Mage, then again as a Void Mage. He confessed to his peevish insecurity as Gwen found belonging with the likes of Gunther Shultz and Alesia de Botton. He furthermore told them of his paranoia that Gwen would somehow be better suited to the Kirin Amulet than he. Lastly, as an unexpected boon, Percy told Guo of his sinful intentions the night Gwen attempted to ‘take’ his amulet. “I lied. I was afraid, and I lashed out. I am sorry, Grandfather. Gwen as well. I’ve disappointed all of you.” “Owning up to your wrong is a good thing, Percy,” Gwen stated with sagacity, leading the conversation. Guo's gaze shifted between his two grandchildren. "Father," Jun politely intruded. "Gwen is a model sibling, is she not?" An unspoken missive passed between father and son. “Gwen," Guo declared after a few seconds of hesitation; his expression one of constipation. "That time, I was too quick to judge.” “You were under a lot of stress.” Gwen lowered her chin understandingly even as her heart soared with vindication. “Babulya already told me. So it’s fine. I understand your intention, Grandfather. I know it’s not personal.” Guo nodded, his expression softening. Percy then told of his killing of the two deserters. “Percy.” Guo regarded his grandson. “You were right to defend yourself, but your lack of discipline must be addressed. Your training will be harsher from now on.” Percy shook his head. “You do not think you deserve it?” Guo’s face twisted into one of displeasure and outrage. “No, Grandfather,” Percy answered. To their surprise, he retrieved from his neck the Kirin amulet, then held it within the palm of both hands. “I made a terrible mistake tonight, Grandfather, something that proves I am not worthy of this.” Guo looked to Gwen, who quickly forced Percy to put the amulet away back where it belonged. "Grandfather,” Percy uttered miserably. “They saw me use the Rite.” Both Guo and Jun tensed, flooding the enclosed chamber of the Habitat with a sudden pressure that made it laborious for Percy to breathe. As for Gwen, she gauged her Grandfather’s aura to be inferior to Golos, especially when the Thunder Wyvern was fluffed up and as angry as a pissed wombat. “No one else saw anything!” Gwen added quickly. “Percy took care of the two that attacked him. He came home wounded, I looked after him. Well, Petra looked after him. After that, Petra left, Percy told me what happened, and here we are.” “What about their remains?” A military man, Jun followed up with a pragmatic enquiry. “Ah, about that.” Gwen made a face. She recounted that Percy had collected the bodies and that she had deemed it necessary to ‘void’ the evidence, as it were. Guo raised a cynical brow. “You helped your brother hide the bodies?” “Guilty as charged.” Gwen raised both hands. “We’re accomplices.” “And you discerned that they were deserters?” Jun was surprised that after all of Percy's misgivings, Gwen's immediate reaction was to shield her ungrateful sibling. “They stank, their attire smelled like old onions and rancid grease.” Gwen creatively painted a picture for her elders. “They wore rags as well, completely haggard; matted, wild hair too. Does that sound about right?” Father and son contemplated Gwen's depiction. “Look, there's more. Percy made a booboo,” Gwen tried to downplay the catastrophic news of accidental Necromancy by making a cute face. Hopefully, it sounded better coming from her lips than if Percy stuttered out the truth in terror. “He used Drain-Life on the hobos.” “HE DID WHAT!” “WOCAO!” Even the unfazed Guo leapt from where he'd leaned against the couch. “IMPOSSIBLE!” Guo snarled. “The Blessing is a RITE! It takes minutes to prepare! How is it possible that you, a boy, can use it in the heat of combat? PERCY! Now is no time for deception! I want the truth!” Percy’s mien turned the colour of paste. “I was in the middle of the Rite itself when they attacked me!” The boy protested feebly. “I… I don’t know what I did. There were two of them; it was dark, I was OOM. I did the first thing that came to my mind.” Guo's face was a tremor of conflicting emotions. Gwen could see the pressure building, the old man's weathered face may as well be molten tectonic plates. "YOU INGRATE FOOL!" Mt Guo erupted. Percy shielded his face. Gwen reflexively moved in front of her cowering brother. "Yeye! NO!" The outburst, particularly her rare use of Mandarin, caught Guo off guard. The intercept was just enough time for Jun to intervene. “Dad, hold on.” Jun took his father by the arm. “Let Percy finish, what's happened has happened. You're right to be angry of course, but punishments can wait until after we figure out a solution.” Guo struggled against his son's iron-grip before slumping a little against Jun's shoulders. "I have taken too little care of this..." He signed. "I was too hasty. The boy's not ready." "Percy?" Gwen swallowed, feeling fortunate that she didn't take an accidental licking in Percy's stead. "Tell grandfather what happened." Percy took a few seconds to calm his nerves. Unfortunately, it became self-evident that the boy was not talented in the gift of gab. "Why are you all so surprised?” Percy had on a wounded expression of having been betrayed; the very picture of a child bewildered by circumstance beyond his knowledge. “Didn't you teach Gwen, Uncle Jun? She Life-Drained people in D-109, didn’t she? That’s how she gained those schools. She also used her Amulet in Australia as well. Maybe Dad taught her back in Sydney? How else is she stealing all those Schools of Magic?” “…” Gwen stared at Percy, mouth half-open. “…” Jun met his father’s disbelieving eyes. “…” Guo looked as though he was about to open another jar of Salt-laden walloping on his obliviously entitled grandson. “What do you mean, Percy?” Guo’s low voice took on a dangerous fullness. Percy stared at his elders with incomprehension. Even if he had no idea what was going one, even with his limited knowledge of the world and its people, he could read the mood. If he'd been up shit creek without a paddle earlier, now the dingy has capsized, and there was a Shit-Water Crocodile in the water. “I think there’s a misunderstanding…” Gwen pushed between Guo and her brother again, much to their grandfather's annoyance. “What Percy is saying is that he accidentally took on Abjuration, the talent of one of his victims, after accidentally using Drain-Life on her in the heat of the moment.” “Nonsense,” Guo dismissed Gwen’s counterpoint. “Percy has been trained in Abjuration. It should be no surprise that he could reach tier 1 by now. Not to mention your sister is... different, in a way.” “Gwen's telling the truth, Grandfather.” Percy stepped back from the inquisitorial Patriarch. “Watch!” “Shield!” An external Salt-Shield sprang into existence, lingering even after Percy ceased his channelling. To Guo and Jun's trained eyes, either Percy had become a prodigy in learning secondary Schools of Magic, or he as telling the truth. “Mao…” Guo touched the Shield, observing its rigidity and its slow corrosion of the skin on the surface of his finger. “Percy, tell me exactly what happened. Every detail.” Percy retraced his steps as he had done for Gwen. “Percy, perform the Blessing of the Kirin, right now,” Guo commanded. “Do it outside,” Jun advised, not wanting to damage Gwen’s Habitat. Once outside, the rest of the family retreated to a safe distance. Guo activated his diagnostic magics, then watched as Percy underwent the process. Compared to Jun, Percy’s movements were clumsy and unrefined, his command over the essence reclamation was likewise ineffective and amateurish. What impressed both Jun and Guo however, was the affinity Percy seemed to posses for the Amulet. What little mana the boy injected into the amulet induced a disproportional release of rarified essence far more generous than Percy’s expenditure. “What do you think?” Guo enquired of Jun. "I've never seen anything like this." “Same; not for me and certainly not for Hai,” Jun confessed. “Percy has taken to the Amulet’s Soul-Well like a fish to water.” Though the incantation ended with the infamous Necromantic utterance, both Guo and Jun understood that the spells’ misnomer was a syntactic misunderstanding. The final utterance for activating the magic was the Hanyu incantation for ‘draw’, a synonym beside the Annunciation for ‘drain’. "Chōuqù," wasn't the same as "Xīqǔ". Where Necromancers would ‘DRAIN’ life, the Song’s magic ‘DREW’ Life from the Kirin Amulet. Of course, anyone with limited knowledge of Necromancy and its reputation would naturally assume the spell ended with ‘drain’ and not ‘draw’, even though one implies taking out something that had been stowed, while the other was synonymous with usurpation. Not far from where the trio stood, Essence flooded Percy’s Astral Body, forming a swirl of darkly shimmering energy barely perceptible at the edge of vision. The spiritual meta-matter first entered from Percy’s palm, with the Kirin Core at its epicentre, then diffused into his mana channels. “I activated the Rite,” Percy reiterated. “Just like this.” To his observers, it wasn’t so much the Rite, but the ease and efficiency by which Percy had completed the sigil and incantations for Drain Life that surprised them. Percy could apparently 'switch' the 'draw' effect on and off at will. Did the boy have a talent for Necromancy? What a terrifying prospect! If so, they should thank their lucky stars that Percy was a Salt Mage and had no means to raise, empower, or summon the Undead. Of course, nothing the boy had demonstrated explained how he managed to ‘power up’ his Abjuration like Gwen. For the boy’s sister, there was a whole Elizabeth Sobel who came before to explain her otherwise inexplicable talents; likewise, her mastery over Caliban offered a rational logistical pathway for the acquisition of new Schools of Magic. As for Percy, the family stood on unbroken ground. If a Song had ever thought it was a great idea to use the Rite on a living human being, a Mage no less, they had undoubtedly not recorded it in the Analects for posterity. “We need to keep an iron-lid on this,” Guo suggested darkly. “Until we know more…” “I concur,” Jun breathed out, glad his father saw reason. “Gwen?” “I am at your mercy.” Gwen smiled simperingly, knowing that sort of thing placated Guo. "Percy, are you fine with it? Speak up!" She slapped her brother's back. “Percy?” “…” Her brother was silent. Percy looked up. “May I return the amulet to Gwen?” The quest fell upon his listeners like crashing thunder. “No!” Gwen was the first to protest, an act which confounded both Guo and Jun. “It’s yours now! Didn’t you see how well it worked just then? I never had that kind of interaction with it, ever!” Percy's weakness should have made Guo erupt once more. But instead, the old man stroked his chin thoughtfully, gazing upon his granddaughter with a profound understanding in his eyes. “You do not wish to possess the Amulet, Gwen?" Jun tested the water in case Gwen was playing one of her mind games. By now, he knew that the girl had a depth that neither he nor Guo could see through. "As you can see, it could help you train beyond what you are capable of doing alone, not to mention you may need it if you wish to master your Void element.” “Don’t need it,” Gwen flexed her bicep in the 'We can do it!' Rosie the Riveter pose. “I got Ariel and tier 6 Lightning! Let Percy have his.” “I see,” Guo’s voice took on a kindness the old man had previously withheld. “This makes me truly happy, Gwen. I don’t know what to say.” “Saying you feel proud of her would be a good start!” Jun laughed. “See Dad, I told you; you’ve mistaken her this entire time!” Guo scowled, but it was a sheepish expression, mingled with feelings of pride, scorn, and self-loathing. Indeed, Gwen freely had given Percy the Amulet, if she had fought Guo tooth and nail, Klaviya would have likely sided with Gwen. Earlier, she had again refuted the Amulet when Percy first took it from his neck. And now, she had denied it thrice, not only verbally, but had used the attempt to encourage her brother, to help Percy attain his destiny. Thrice she had resisted the temptation, and thrice she had proven herself, unbidden. He had always known that her ardent loyalty to family sat well with him, and now his wayward granddaughter had demonstrated a selflessness that Guo knew to respect, even if he doubted the purity of her loyalty. The girl was alright. A groundswell of rapturous pleasure engendered in Guo’s bosom. “Granddaughter.” The old man uncharacteristically placed a hand on Gwen's shoulder. “Yeye?” In all honesty, the sudden generosity in Guo’s eyes made Gwen's skin crawl. Though she knew what to say, where Guo had expected her to meet him, she unconsciously shrank back. The old man retracted his fingers, disappointed. But lucky for Guo, Gwen wasn’t a sulky teenager who'd delight in rebuking an old dog who'd bitten her. The girl instantly recognised her error, as well as Guo’s desire for reconciliation. “GROUP HUG!” Taking the opportunity, Gwen pulled up Percy by the hand and brought him into the circle. “Uncle Jun, come on!” If Jun was Australian, he would have declared 'You bloody ripper!' but as he was Chinese, he chuckled politely. Guo stoically joined the fray, his arms awkwardly tethered to his side. The four of them huddled. “Team Song!” Gwen stepped back, beaming at her work. “If we work together, we can overcome anything! Percy, don’t you worry about a thing, we’ll get to the bottom of this yet! There has to be a logical reason for all of this!” “Sure thing, Sis.” Percy’s face was beet red. Touched and invigorated by the spectacle of sibling communion, Guo took to silently Messaging his son. “Jun.” Allowing a smile to touch his lips, the old hound of the CCP felt his well-worn bones loosen. “I think your mother will be overjoyed to know that the two of them have made up.” “You should tell her yourself, Father.” Jun held his father’s shoulders and felt his father's tense shoulder relax. For how long had the old man stood by the tip of his toes, hung by a string, tethered and strung until breaking point? “With Percy’s talent and Gwen’s support, he will make a great heir.” Guo watched the brother and sister muck about, giddy and happy after knowing they weren’t going to take up residence in Tianlanqiao. “Ancestor’s blessing,” the old man muttered. “I thought we’re cursed,” Jun joked, then more seriously, he returned a silent Message. “Dad, I'll be going to go back to Hubei once Ayxin is settled in.” “About what the Yinglong told you?” “Yeah. I should probably bring Percy.” “Never trust these supernatural beings.” The mirth faded from Guo’s face, replaced by his usual indifference. “These Dragons, they give us truths to damn us with our own foolishness.” “I’ll treat it as a matter of academic interest.” “Do you believe that I made a mistake? Trying to save both you and Hai?” “No, father. If you hadn’t made the hard choices, either myself or Hai would not have been here today, and without Hai…” The two of them looked at Gwen and Percy. Gwen had Percy caught under her arm and was now overpowering her physically more pronounced sibling. Percy, perhaps because of puberty and perhaps fearful of Guo, was too shy to fight back, woefully allowing Gwen to ruffle his hair at her pleasure, crushing his face against the side of her bosoms. “Isn’t this fine, Father? We’re all here. Whatever happens, we will deal with it together.” Guo blinked. “You’re right.” the old man placed a hand on his youngest son's broad back. “Hai as well. You’re absolutely right. We’re all here, and that’s what matters.”

By the time Petra succeeded in dragging Gwen out of bed, it was almost 10 AM. The family had only gone to sleep around four, having explored what paths Percy could undergo, and what avenues the young digger must avoid at all costs. "The first rule of Per-secrecy is that we do not talk about the N-word or Percy's unfounded talents." Gwen had proposed. "Indeed, the second rule of Per-secrecy is that we do not talk about Percy's N-affinity, at all, to anyone." The family concurred. Thirdly, it was agreed that Percy would not use his newfound methodology carelessly and that any extra-curriculum progress would be in a controlled environment, under the strict supervision of his loved ones. Percy, she reasoned, was only fourteen. There was no rush. Now in possession of Abjuration, Evocation, and Transmutation, he was already far ahead of those who had to train their Meta-school Magic the hard way, through hard-coded memorisation and unceasing practice, risking mana burn and regression. He could slowly introduce his 'talent' over the next few years and with Gwen as a herald, his family connections, and some discretion, come of age 'naturally'. Fourthly - there was no fourthly. None of the stakeholders within the conspiracy of Songs had answers, nor what questions to ask. All they could do was to wait for an opportunity to uncover Percy’s incidental Consumption. Uncle Jun had mentioned that during Golden Week, he would request a break from his duties with Ayxin and return to Hubei. As for Grandfather, he would ensure that all eyes steered away from Percy and that those who wished to pry did so at their peril. At its conclusion, after a deliberate sloppy kiss on Percy's forehead, Gwen returned to her room then struck the silken sheets like a corpse. She slept dreamlessly - until Petra twisted her arm. “It’s time to go back to Fudan!” Petra slapped her thighs. “Up you get, porosenok!” Gwen fought Petra for the blankets, succeeding in tearing the silken fabric from her cousin’s hands until Petra threatened to open the doors and reveal a semi-nude ‘piglet Gwen’ to the whole wide world. “Alright! Sheesh, I am up!” The girls had to be up early because unlike the oldies, whose position offered them Teleportation from the local military ISTC at the state's expense, the girls had to tap into their own pockets. While Gwen was potentially in possession of a modest mole-hill of crystals, she wasn’t about to spend fifty odd HDMs for no reason other than to save six hours of travel. As students, their time wasn’t worth the crystals, not to mention for a mere 3 HDMs each; the girls could book a private cabin on the return train and catch up. After a hearty breakfast of pickled vegetables, cured fish and porridge, the girls waited in the courtyard to be seen off by the remaining family members. Lamentably, the only 'family' who remained were Gwen's father and his lady wife. Guo and her babulya had work; one had patients to save while the other had conspirators to condemn. Percy was deemed too dangerous to remain in Hangzhou for any longer than necessary, and so the grandparents had spirited him away. Jun and Ayxin were gone via Teleportation as soon as the local ISTC station opened, arriving at Pudong where a major delegation awaited Ayxin’s Demi-divine presence. “Take care.” Qīn waved at Gwen happily, a shared sentiment. “You be careful out there.” Hai wore that goofy, guilty expression of his which he carried like an albatross, simultaneously incensing Gwen's ire as well as stoking her sympathy. “If you run into trouble, call me.” Gwen smiled politely but said nothing. It would be too awkward after her tempestuous outburst, not to mention her father had shown neither contrition nor remorse. An estate car took the girls to Hangzhou station in the CBD, where a 13:00 express would bring them back to Hongqiao, forty minutes from Shanghai’s CBD. From the Transit Station, an additional Taxi would return the girls to Fudan. “Farewell.” Gwen ducked into the cabin, towing Petra by the hand. ‘Thunk!’ The slamming of the door was her final farewell. Hai watched his daughter and her cousin disappear into the distance with ambivalent emotions. “Finally…” Qīn muttered beside him. Hai turned to regard his wife. “… we’re alone.” She beamed at him. “I can hardly believe it.” Hai slid a hand around his wife’s waist, feeling the slight bulge of her belly. “My father left me alone. I wonder why.” “He has heirs to play with,” Qīn quipped wittily. “You’re no longer his favourite.” “I should be so lucky,” Hai chortled. For the foreseeable future, it was just the two of them living in the estate, surrounded by wealth, servants, idyllic idleness. The West Lake and its boundless bounties both natural and man-made beckoned, and in seven months, they would be welcoming their child. It was paradise, one that Hai wasn’t entirely sure he deserved. What of the future? What would become of a child who lacked the means to tame their talent? Would the ‘drought’ curse manifest yet again in his third child? But that was something he has no control over. The two kissed, he fell into the embrace of Qīn’s petal lips, falling endlessly into a land of flower and flesh, milk and honey. Well, whatever. Hai shrugged mentally. The future was so far away. Why be greedy? “St Peter’s Golden Gates! Tier 6!?” On the express train, in the privacy of their cabin for two, Gwen revealed to Petra her recent Elemental upgrade. Petra stuck out her tongue; in her haste and excitement, she had bitten it. “That’s insane!” Her cousin could hardly believe her ears. “Is there a limit to Consume?” “I am certain that I've maxed out diminishing returns,” Gwen confessed. “There was A LOT of deer, Pats. Carps, too, and goats. What Monsters are there beyond tier 7 for Lighting or Air?” “An ancient Dark-beast, maybe. That or a Behir.” “Is that like a Lightning-chicken?” “Like a basilisk, but lighting-wreathed and semi-draconic, oodles of legs. Found in Black Zones here and there, mostly around central Africa.” “Sounds interesting.” Gwen licked her lips as well, wetting her whistlers. "I could do with one, figuratively speaking." “You’re not going to become a gourmet hunter, are you?” Petra quipped. Sometimes, the rich and powerful paid a premium for the flesh of rare beasts. Such obscure delicacies could be used in alchemical cuisine that fortified the body. As for her cousin, Petra had no doubt Gwen would likely gobble her victims whole, alive and kicking, maybe with a sprinkling of pepper. “Speaking of which, is Caliban back?” “Yep.” Gwen made sure there was no one watching, then sprang her Familiar forth. Caliban slithered into the world, happy to once again savour the air of freedom. Ariel was already out. In its docile guise, it was discrete enough to pass as a marten-like creature, though a closer inspection would likely stifle the breath of one with sufficient knowledge to recognise a horned, clawed, and hoofed Lightning Familiar with fish-scaled fur. Her Familiars sniffed one other, then began to play-bite, tumbling under the girls’ feet. The Hangzhou-Shanghai Express did not serve lunch, but Qīn had ensured that a hearty banquet for two had been packed. One by one they brought out the lukewarm dishes, feasting upon the final generosity of Gwen’s stepmother. The topic then moved toward Gwen’s future training. Although the University was said to be open 365 days of the year, its facilities were shut between December 10th and January 7th. There was another break from 19th to 25th of January, where ‘Golden Week’ took place. During these times, the entire University went into lockdown. Semester 2 began on the 2nd of February. Semester 3 began on the 9th of July. The IIUC Selection Trials begans on the 8th of August, with the five finalists and the five reserve members announced four weeks later. It meant that Gwen had almost ten months to master her spells, gain proficiency in her auxiliary Schools of Magic, as well as pushing Evocation to 5 and Conjuration to 6. “I’d honestly favour utility over raw power,” Petra advised her power obsessed cousin. “Do you seriously think you need MORE power.” I need FIREPOWER FIREPOWER FIREPOWER! Gwen channelled Yue, feeling nostalgic for her friend's forever optimistic presence. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. “Should I… not?” Gwen twirled a finger around Ariel’s swishing tail, causing it to coil around on her lap. Sensing Ariel's empowered cuteness, Caliban too demanded that Gwen scratch its obsidian belly. “We’ll work out a plan.” Petra smacked her lips sensuously; Spellcraft was her favourite thing in the world. “You’ve got a lot of Spell learning to catch up. Considering how long it takes to learn high-tier Magic, I don’t think ten months can be considered generous.” “Took me close to a month to get a handle on Ball Lightning,” Gwen pointed out. “Amongst other things, of course. What do you suggest?” “Some proper AOEs, now that you’ve got yourself Ariel as a Spirit. Finishing up your Transmutation Utility spells, as well as Divination and Abjuration Utility.” “No Illusion?” “Not your style, but you can play around with defensive varieties with contingency triggers like Mirror Image.” “Ah ~ I want Invisibility!” “You’re welcome to join the Ghosts anytime,” Petra chortled. “Other than that, don’t expect the state to be liberal with Unsanctioned Magic.” “It’s not like I can sneak into government facilities with it.” Gwen shrugged. “There’s Polymorph as well. That’s the one people watch out for.” “A straight ticket to Tianlanqiao.” Petra snorted. "Not to mention its absurdly tricky to master. One wrong move and your organs will never recover. That's why Shifters generally rely on Spirit-forms." Gwen took another nap shortly after lunch, awakening to the sight of Shanghai as the train passed under the PLA Superstructural Tower. “God, it looks bigger every time I see it.” “Most of it is for tapping into Ley-lines.” Petra shook her head disapprovingly. “The Pudong Tower told the CCP the Superstructural Tower would disrupt the flow of geo-energy in the region permanently, but as always, they took the advice as an affront - or a deception.” “So, did it damage the Ley-lines?” “Hard to say.” Petra's shoulders fell. “The miasma is dense as anything in Shanghai. The city had already stripped its outer circuit; not to mention the NoM habitats are putting out an absurd amount of waste.” Gwen was reminded of the bleak landscape she had seen during the District 109 trip. The rural countryside wasn't exactly dead, though it managed only patches of green and brown here and there, giving the impression of leprosy. Compared to verdant Hangzhou, it was as though the land itself was sick. “We’re here.” The train pulled into the station. The girls alighted, cutting curt figures across the concrete platform as they made their way to the taxi bay. “Fudan, Guoding Rd, Apartment B1. It’s the one with the sky-garden, you can’t miss it.” “Yes, Ma’am.” The taxi driver tipped his hat, then hastily bowed, sensing from the girls’ haughty airs that he had rare guests. Bustling people, NoMs and Mages alike, surrounded the cab on all fronts, swarming through the streets like balls of sardine. Once they were away from the train station, an endless stream of vehicles meandered through crowded arterial roadways. The atmosphere stank of stale oxygen and stifling mana-miasma; the autumn humidity of early October sent an unpleasant chill through the air, pricking her bare legs. Safe in the cabin, Gwen slumped back against the leather seats. Just like that, she was back in Shanghai, as though the passing of a midsummer fancy, no more yielding than a dream. It took the girls another hour to get through the 6 PM grid-lock. As the cab pulled into the covered foyer of Gouding B1, Gwen noted a delegation at the apartment’s sliding doors. “GWEN!” “MIA!” It was only to be expected. If there was one person who had both interest and expertise to predict the precise moment of her arrival, it would be Mayuree. “Goddess, I missed you.” Mayuree pressed herself against Gwen’s torso, almost as if the girl wanted to meld into her. “I can finally go out! WONDERFUL FREEDOM!” “Hahaha.” Gwen returned the hug. “Sorry I took another week.” “How was the wedding.” “Weal and woe,” Gwen replied. "A little too accurate for my liking." "That's why you never ask!" The girls grinned. “Gwen, it’s good to see you back.” the next companion to accost her was Richard and his ‘crew’, meaning Lulan and Kusu. “Richard!” The cousins embraced. “Lulu!” Again, the girls exchanged greetings, with Lulan woodenly accepting Gwen's Westernised overfamiliarity. “Kusu, did Lulu give you trouble?” “Hahaha.” Kusu laughed with the sound of a man coming to accept painful haemorrhoids as a fact of life. Gwen could sense the buried uneasiness underneath Kusu's amiable exterior like intestinal ulcers. Poor bastard, she patted him on the shoulder. An adorable sister was a blessing and a curse. “I’ve got a banquet set up!” Mayuree beamed. “Ah-Lei cooked up all your favourites!” “Wonderful!” Gwen waited until everyone was ready before walking through the double doors. “Oh man, have I got a 'show and tell' for you guys!” “Wow, your father is a cunt.” Richard sipped on a beer, stating what he considered to be obvious, his speech as liberal as ever. “That Qīn sounds like a character. Let's introduce her to Helena. The drama generated from those two clashing could tear a gap into the Elemental Planes.” “Gosh, I am so... sorry.” Mayuree covered her lips. “What a horrible experience.” "I'd just do this." Lulan made a cutting motion. "Problem solved." “Excuse me,” Kusu butted in. “I think you’re all missing the main point here.” The gathering turned to regard Kusu. “Gwen defeated Wonsoo, right? Wonsoo Liu?” Richard shrugged. Who the fuck was Wonsoo Liu? “THE Wonsoo Liu! The Quagmire?” “No idea who that is, maybe my brother would know, but I haven’t seen him in months.” Mayuree was as clueless as Richard. “Come on. You guys seriously don’t know who Wonsoo Liu is?” Kusu was incredulous. “He’s one of the 90s generation war-heroes, right?” Unlike the others, Petra had witnessed Gwen rooting the whole hog. Wonsoo’s omnidirectional entrapment spell, Quagmire, was as impressive as anything. Apart from his Spellcraft though, she had no interest in the man. She cared little about the workings of the PLA and the Front. As an expatriated Magus to be and a researcher, the chance of her being sent to the Front was zero, barring a cataclysmic failure of the Beijing-Xian battleline. “He’s incredibly famous!” Kusu marvelled at his friends' ignorance. “During the Meeting of the Sixteen Sects ten years ago, he was undefeated. The Scholar-bureaucrat Houses see him as their big hope of ascension.” Gwen paused; her chopstick resting halfway to a Wildland pheasant drumstick. “Er… should I NOT have defeated him?” “Of course you should have kicked his ass, Gwen,” Lulan declared sulkily. “Why Kusu, you scared?” “What? No!” Kusu huffed. “Oh, Lulu~. Look, Gwen, what I am saying is that once the news gets out, you’re going to be even MORE famous. I’d be surprised if a single Clanner wouldn’t know your name, or want a piece of you, either for fame or for er... amour.” “That sounds bloody awful.” “Gwen,” Petra snickered, thinking of Gwen's future income stream. “Show them what you came home with.” “Ah, yeah…” Gwen grinned. “Guys, as I said, we got our hands on A LOT of GOODIES in Huangshan and Hangzhou.” She stepped back. First, to whet their appetite, Gwen gave her family and friends gifts of silk. “AND NOW, for our main course - Mayuree, this is for your Auction.” Gwen then produced one, two, three, a dozen and more Creature Cores from her ring. There were twelve from the Draconic-deer, two from Dragon-carp, and one murky Merfolk-core, as well as one sapient sibling of Ayxin, now deceased. ‘Thunk!’ A fist-sized Pangolin-core rolled across the floor. Lulan sucked in a breath of cold air. Kusu’s eyes bulged. Richard smacked his lips. Mayuree wailed. “They're ALL DRACONIC?!” Mayuree took the pangolin core and brought it closer to her face. “I know you’ve told me already, but Goddess! REALLY?! You were gone for TWO WEEKS, and you come back with more Draconic-Cores than the House of M has seen in the last financial year?” “Oh.” Gwen pulled half of them closer to her bosom. “How about you pretend these don’t exist? That one's just a Merfolk Core, still Lightning though, maybe a sliver of Dragon in it.” “Ha! You wish.” Mayuree picked up another core, her pupils glowing with faint divination. “Great clarity as well. No cracks, no fissures. How the hell? What did you do? These Draconic-beasts died peacefully in their sleep?” “Magic.” Gwen spread her fingers. Petra burst into laughter. Richard's face took on a contemplative mien. “Say, Gwen.” Her cousin leaned in closer. “Can your 'luck' hold out if we go on a Quest of our own?” Gwen shook her head. “Does it have to do with you know what?” Gwen nodded. Richard glanced at Mayuree. “I’ve got a proposition for you and Percy,” he Messaged Gwen silently. “Nantong region dungeon crawl. We’ve almost cleared the whole district, but a lair refuses to budge. Give you the details later.” Gwen inclined her chin. Mayuree observed Gwen's interaction with Richard; as a Diviner, she was very sensitive to Silent Messages. “Gwen, if you’re going away again, take me with you!” the girl interjected guilelessly, her almond eyes begging for approval. “I hate being stuck home, please?” Richard formed a, ‘noooo,’ with his lips. Gwen grinned amiably at her cousin. “If there’s any chance you can join us, Mia,” she answered diplomatically. “Then I’ll be happy to have you with us! Adventuring with you in D-109 was awesome.” Richard returned to sipping his beer, his expression as stoic as a monk's. The girls clinked glasses. Gwen swilled down her glass of red, savouring the dryness of the oaky Cabernet Sauvignon. Mayuree sipped hers gingerly. Like most Asians, she had a low tolerance for the sauce. The rest of the dinner proceeded with small talk, in particular, the HDMs Gwen stood to gain with her harvest of Draconic-Cores. “You want any Magic Items crafted?” Mayuree asked after a few more dishes arrived, courtesy of Lei’s extraordinary culinary artistry. “Draconic Cores make master-crafted items, after all. I could offer you a trade-off with our in-house enchanters.” “Any good suggestions?” Mayuree tapped her glass. “Staves, wands, rings, armour, clothing, that sort of thing,” Mayuree suggested. “For example, it’s not much on paper, but a Thunder-Deer’s core could be used to craft a Thunder-Rod.” “Those things are REALLY expensive.” Lulan appeared nervous just thinking about owning such an item. According to Richard, Lulan had become hyper-conscious of the balance of her bank account after leaving Huashan. For the last months, she squirrelled away every crystal she had earned on her adventures, fearful that she wouldn’t have enough to pay for tuition and training. “Like, heirloom expensive.” “Not really,” Mayuree explained. “You have to consider what the Rod’s capabilities are. A master crafted Thunder Rod can be used as a knocking-baton that shatters hard-Shields and displaces soft-Shields. It can convert Air and Positive user’s mana into Lightning Bolts at a tier lower than the caster. It can likewise be used to destroy brittle surfaces. Decisively, you can overload the Core for a massive AOE burst. Its a hard counter against Earthen Mages, the most common of Abjurers - which, I might add, counters Lightning and Void.” “Alright, alright. So, what's the damage?” “The core I’d say is about 5000 HDMs, while the crafting is usually by Commission, ranging anywhere from a thousand HDM to almost ten thousand HDMs if you want a famous artisan to put their name on it. Keep in mind that this includes the extra materials as well, like the Mithril-inlay, the Elder-wood insert, the dragon-blood inscriptions, and so on.” “So what you’re saying.” Gwen did some quick math in her head. “I give you two cores; one is for your Enchanter to do his or her pet projects, the other is for the baseline material. Then we auction the Rod?” “Precisely, or keep the item for yourself,” Mayuree suggested. “For example, we take the two largest cores - around tier 5 - and make the item. In that case, the Rod could likely auction for 12,000 to 15,000 HDMs. Lulan’s eyes twitched. What were these numbers, SO LARGE and inconceivable! She had laboured endlessly for almost a month or more, and she had just made 500 odd HDMs while covering herself with fish-slime and worm-gore. She tried to count the number of zeros in her head, but the tremendous amount gave her a headache. “Hmm, do you have a list of potential items?” Mayuree swilled her glass. “I’ll send someone over and discuss it with you by the end of the week. The sale of your Cores will take up to six months. We’re going to release no more than TWO per month, to keep prices afloat if that’s fine with you. If you want them crafted then sold, maybe up to six months per item.” “Of course, supply and demand,” Gwen noted. “Cheers, Mia.” “Anything.” The girls clinked glasses again. “There’s like 80,000 HDMs in that pile?” Kusu allowed his chopsticks to fall gently beside his bowl. “Mao, I’ve never even seen 10,000 HDMs in one place!” Lulan’s eyes were two blazing ochre orbs, akin to her berserker days. “If things go well, we can also borrow some of Gwen’s luck.” Richard burped, replacing the empty bottle. Gwen popped another beer and passed it toward her cousin. “Cheers.” Lulan and Kusu turned to regard Gwen. “I suppose.” Gwen grinned. “I’ll have to ask Grandfather for permission to bring our lucky-charm.” “Very well.” Kusu raised a toast. “For the lucky charm!” “For Cores!” Lulan raised her juice. Kusu had forbidden his sister from having more than one glass over dinner. “Hahaha.” Gwen raised her glass as well. Mayuree wasn’t sure what’s going on, but she had good premonition it was all going to be alright, and so she raised her glass as well. “For Crystals!” Richard raised his bottle of frothy beer. “Gānbēi!” “Gānbēi!” “Gānbēi!” “Cheers” "Za zdarovje!" Gwen swirled the scarlet liquid in her overlarge glass, then with one tilt of her head, she downed the red wine, leaving not a single drop to linger.

**Sanctioned Schools of Magic** (Sigils by Lampshade) Evocation The most commonly awakened school in modern Spellcraft, Evocation is a school that manipulates energy. Evokers become the mainstay of the citizen-soldiers, wielding spells of Fire, Earth, Water, and more exotic elements such as Lightning or Radiance. As Evokers mature, they become more specialised in a particular elemental affinity, taking up specialist equipment, attunement and contract Spirits. In the media and propaganda, the Evoker is the archetype Mage, the spell slinging, fireball blasting Sorcerer of yore, tapping into and drawing limitless power from the elemental planes. Abjuration Abjurers weave spells that protect, block, dispel or banish. An Abjurer is a common but highly sought after profession. Abjuration made Shielding Stations possible. An Abjurer possesses the unique ability to utilise restoration spells such as De-Curse and the ability to dispense protective AOE combat buffs. Specialists in this field typically contract elementals of earth, ice, and water, all of which are relatively common. Conjuration Conjuration is a school that materialises creatures or materials for the caster. A Conjurer becomes a one-man army after mastering higher tiers of Magic. Through Familiar rituals and or contracting Magical Creatures, Conjurers gain life-long companions that grow with the Mage in power. Due to this advantage, it is not uncommon for Summoners to become several magnitudes more powerful than Mages of equal tier. The disadvantage of Conjuration is the persistent mana drain caused by most of its sustained effect spells and crippling loss of combat potential to specialised Abjuration such as Banish. Certain Conjurers choose to focus on the summoning of items or beings. These valuable individuals are also responsible for the Teleportation Circles around the cities. Divination Diviners reveal information. They are highly prized for their cognisant abilities in detection and foretelling. Many diviners go on to become telecommunication specialists, becoming key intelligence and strategist operatives who serve a multitude of critical roles. Other schools of Divination focuse on disaster deterrence, by reading the threads of time and fate. Despite their lack of offensive capabilities, it is said that the most influential Magi on the United Nations Council is the Oracle of the Acropolis. Though the Divination school has no preference for elemental afflictions, it is a school that synergises well with subsequent studies of other schools. Many Diviners go on to become Magus or Magister. Enchantment The school of Enchantment remains the most difficult and expensive to train of all schools. Capable of imbuing items and buildings with protection, strengthening materials and extending persist phenomena - Enchanters are essential to humanity’s cities. The world's most successful manufactoriums and artisanal workshops are all operated by skilled Enchanters. Unlike regular Mages, many Enchanters seek to master additional schools such as Transmutation or Abjuration for the creation of magical items. A dangerous school within-a-school of Enchanters are those whose abilities allow them to control, manipulate, and glamour the minds of others. Mind Mages are closely watched by government forces, for the misuse of mind-altering effects on others could lead to life-imprisonment or banishment. Illusion Illusion is the magic of mirage, the altering of perceptions to create false visions. Many Illusionists go on to become involved in espionage if they choose the path of the militant. Many others, however, have elected media and entertainment, creating spectacles for adoring audiences, becoming superstars of immense prestige. Illusion spells which deal damage attack the mind directly, creating what is known as psychic feedback. Transmutation Transmutation is an unusual school in that it changes the caster and the objects they touch, manipulating the properties in powerful ways. In the present world, Transmuters become builders, architects and creators, working hand-in-glove with Enchanters. In combat, some Transmuters choose to specialise in manipulating life itself, changing plants, creatures, and even themselves to become deadly and proficient in the art of war. It is said that Transmuters posses the most versatile school of all and enjoy the most lauded status after that of Evokers. An overall well-rounded School of Magic. Biomancy The Clerical School of Healing Magic has always existed in human history in one form or another. Some say that this was the original 'School' of magic. In Modern Spellcraft, Clerical magic exists between Conjuration and Evocation, and is considered a 'hybrid school of magic'. Exclusively, Biomancy requires Mages attuned to the Positive Energy Plane. The combination of Healing Magic and Positive Energy often shrouds the Biomancer with a 'halo' of sorts. Necromancy The dreaded School of Necromancy was banned after WWI following the Geneva Convention. Currently, the school is studied only by Sects authorised by the U.N, arguing that the study of souls and the afterlife is inseparably connected to matters of faith, culture and religion. For many scholars, the irony of the matter is that Necromancy is most likely the most ancient school of magic in the world; dating back to the Egyptian Pharaohs, in an age when man first uncovered magic. As such, it is more accurate to say that the summoning, raising, and animation of the dead is strictly forbidden, as much of the old world had turned into ash and cinder following The Great War with the Undead. Post Note: Other schools of magic likely exist but lie beyond the reach of the ordinary Mage. These include Faith Magic, ancestral worship, old world shamanism, naturalism, animalism, and so forth. By the same measure, rumours of humans learning the magic of monsters, magical beings, and demi-humanoids, or Demi-humans learning Human Spellcraft abound. **Elements & Elemental Magic** ** **by Me (best with white background) **Prime Material Plane (The Material Realm)** The Primary Elements of the Material Plane are what Astrologists propose our world is made from. It is the very stuff of existence itself, existing in perfect harmony. It is suggested that when a Mage is attuned to a certain element, it is because that an excessive element is present within their body. Though exceedingly rare, there exist individuals who are born capable of tapping into all four Prime Elements, becoming mages capable of manipulating 'wood' and other natural phenomena, hypothesised by Eastern Spellcraft as an individual element. **Prime Energy Planes** **The Positive Plane -** The Plane of Positive Energy is a place of pure life-force, it is where the healers draw their power to heal and mend one's broken bones. The Undead are fearful of this energy, and the unwary caster should be as well. Too much positive power without the ability to channel it may lead to strange mutations and cancerous tumours. **Negative Energy -** Where Positive is life, Negative is death. The Undead are tethered to this plane, drawing their undead lifeforce from this domain. When 'living' creatures utilise Negative Energy, they suffer Negative Drain, rapidly diminishing vitality. In the old days, the Mage world saw the Negative Energy as just another source of power. After WWI, Necromancy became highly controversial, gaining a dangerous reputation as a forbidden craft. **Prime Elemental Planes** **Earth** \- Earth is one of the most useful and common elements awakening in Human Mages, it is the element responsible for most of our industry, mining for Mana Crystals, building our cities, and so on. It is said that one-fifth of Mages awaken as Earthen Mages. **Air** \- The Elemental Plane of Air, as the name suggests, a place of gases and open space, frequently filled with thunderstorms, blizzards, microbursts, tornadoes and all manners of interesting weather phenomenona. Of the four common Elemental Affinities, Air is the rarest. **Fire** \- Fire is another common element Mages manifest. Ancient legend has it that Fire was stolen from the Gods themselves. With Fire, man has created many useful tools and beaten back tides of monstrous creatures. Fire is another common element for Mages to possess and the mainstay of Combat Evokers, Transmuters and Conjurers. **Water** \- Assumed to be a near-infinite volume of water, this Elemental Plane is pivotal to the survival of modern magical cities. The Plane provides Human cities with its supply of fresh water. Likewise, human cities pump its waste-water back into the Elemental Plane. It is theorised that the Oceans are directedly connected to this Elemental Plane. Water Affinity is exceptionally common among coastal communities. **Para-Elemental Planes** **Ice** \- Ice is the most common Para-Element to awaken in Mages. It is a supremely useful element that creates drops in temperature - being a combination of Air and Water. The Plane of Ice is said to be a tumbling expanse of frigidity with islands of glacial ice. Ice provides good defence and offence capabilities, as well as chill and slow effects against water-based enemies. **Ooze** \- Ooze is a stranger element, scarce and virtually non-existent outside of isolated magical bloodlines. Ooze Mages are specialists, pending on their school, with spells that focus on entrapment, debilitation, poison, and other strange and mysterious effects. A speciality of the Ooze Conjurer is the ability to summon creatures that exist within that elemental plane - Oozes. It is theorised that some oozes are virtually indestructible except by other Specialist Mages. Ooze is the combination of Water and Earth. Mud is a derivative of Ooze, though far closer to the Elemental Plane of Water than true Ooze Mages. **Magma** \- The Magma Mage is unique indeed; a rare combination of Fire and Earth. These Mages are typically found where there are volcanic islands or fjords. Their power combines the physical prowess of the Earth Mage, with the damage potential of the Fire Mage. **Smoke** \- Smoke is the marriage of Air and Fire. Smoke is an element that is said to only exist in legend. Very little is known about Smoke Mages or the Para-Elemental Plane of Smoke. **Positive Quasi-Elemental Planes** **Mineral** \- Mineral Mages take their capabilities in the form of specialised mineral or metal to which the caster is attuned. As such, the Element creates distinct abilities that differ from Mage to Mage. A Mage capable of summoning volcanic stones, for instance, would generate obsidian shards which are brittle and fragile but possess dangerous offensive capabilities. Jedite Mages create powerful super-dense defensive layers. There are rumours that King Midas was a Gold Mage. **Lightning** \- Existing between the Air and Positive Elemental planes, Lighting is the most penetrative of all elements due to its electrical nature. Lightning causes stun and paralysis, in addition to manifesting instantly and delivering payloads in a fraction of a second. Lightning Mages are preferably Evokers, Conjurers or Transmuters. The Quasi-Elemental Plane of Lightning is said to be a place of plasma, ozone and endless thunder. **Steam** \- Where the Positive and Water Elemental Planes meet, one gets Steam. Steam is a rarely seen element. Only a handful of Mages are on record as having tapped into a Goldilocks' zone where two Elements meet in harmony. There is little known about the Plane and its Elementalists. **Radiance** \- Radiance is formed from Fire and Positive energy. Often mistaken as the power of Light. In theory, it should be useless, too scattered to be used offensively - too dispersed to be used defensively. It takes a special Mage, therefore, to change something so immaterial into a powerful projection of destruction. At a certain intensity, Radiance is capable of melting through solid steel, boiling blood, searing flesh, and severing matter. Not much is known about the Elemental Plane of Radiance. **Negative Quasi-Elemental Planes** **Ash** \- A derivative of Negative-Fire that manifests corrosive ash and black flames. The most destructive element in the array of Elemental Planes. Ash Mages rarely live long as the Element eats away at their minds. It is said that Ash Mages exist as tortured existences whose ruinous powers rack their bodies with unbelievable pain. If one is Negative Drained by an Ash Mage, one loses one's seven emotions and six desires. **Dust** \- Dust is the most stable of the Negative Quasi-elements, next to Salt. It doesn't have any offensive capabilities of its own but enjoys the same corrosive ability drain as Ash. The most annoying part of fighting a Dust Mage is their ability to deaden all elemental damage. Due to its abrogating nature, Dust consumes Fire, Water, Air, Lightning, even Ash. It is said to be the most stalwart Abjuration Affinity next to Mineral. **Salt** \- Salt is a stable Negative Quasi-element, with the additional ability to form into a range of crystalline shapes. It's capable of dealing extreme damage to Slimes and Oozes, as well as an assortment of creatures composed mostly of water - including Humans. The desiccation caused by the Salt Mage draws out elemental water from the bodies of their enemies. Elemental Salt is different from mortal salt, found in oceans and sometimes in rocks; it is formed where Negative Energy and Water meet. Salt is the least destructive of Negative Quasi-elements. **Void** \- As the name suggests, the Elemental Plane of Void is a place of vast, perpetual darkness, where strange, forgotten things lurk in a vacuum darker than black, always hungering. It is a Plane consisting of the very idea of nothingness, a place where forgotten things end up. When manifested in the Material Plane, Void consumes matter, then disappears. Like Steam and Smoke Mages, very little is known about Void Mages. Arguably, the most famous Void Mage in Modern History is Elizabeth Sobel. **Spellcraft and Metaworld Glossary** **Astral Body** \- The cognitively generated projection of one's connection to the Multiverse, visualised via indoctrinated Spellcraft. Typically manifests as a humanoid silhouette with abstract details pertaining to the user's Sigils and Elemental Affinity. Elements are perceived to be within the astrophysical body, while Sigils manifest Externally. Only Mages possess Astral Bodies. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. **Physical Body** \- No matter how powerful a Mage may be, they are still biological creatures that need to eat, crap and sleep, subject to Eros and Thanatos, life and death. The Physicality of a Mage tends to reflect the degree of their Elemental affinity. Most infamously, Earthen Mages have rock-hard physiques, Air Mage are frail and flighty, while Lightning Mages have quickened metabolisms. **Anima (Animus)** \- Drawn from the theory of the Meister Sigmund Jung, the psyche, the Anima (male psyche & common vernacular) and Animus (female psyche) inference a being's subconscious self-awareness. Only sapient creatures are classified as capable of possessing Anima and Animus. **Mana** \- The Gurus of Hinduism refer to this as spiritual energy or Prana. Chinese Doshi denotes this spiritual energy as Qi. Early Western Theology referred to this energy as Faith or Zeal. Modern Spellcraft unified the term as Mana, a generic word for mystical 'energies' of any kind. The Astral Body produces mana as it interacts with Glyphs and Gates, channelling mana into conduits of the physical body. **Mana Pool** \- The maximum amount of mana which a Mage can produce. When the Astral Body is no longer capable of producing mana, this is referred to as OOM, or Out of Mana. VMI - Volumetric Mana Index - is the official nomenclature for measuring a Mage's mana pool. **Mana Channel -** Often confused with the concept of a Mana Conduit. A Mana channel refers to metaphysical pathways by which Mana produced by the Astral Body enters the Mage's physical body. A Mage's Mana Channels can never be damaged without injury to their Astral body. **Gate and Conduit** \- A Gate refers to nomenclature describing the effect of non-elementally attuned mana becoming suffused with the Mage's Element. This 'elementally-attuned' mana then feeds back into the physical body. The pathways through the Mage's physical body are referred to as Mana Conduits. Damage to the physical body damages one's Mana Conduits. **Essence -** A metaphysical form of energy derived from a being's existence. Referred to commonly as one's 'Soul' or "Spirit" in ancient Spellcraft, contemporary Spellcraft sees Essence as a hitherto little-known form of energy, separate from mana. Creatures possessing great magical power and ego possess higher degrees of Essence. Likewise, sapient beings typically possess greater essence than their non-sapient peers of the same subtype. NoMs, in general, possess little Essence. Human and Demi-human Mages possess immense Essence, a fact profoundly valuable to the study of Necromancy. Theoretical Spellcraft propose that Essence is tied to a Mage's ability to access particular Schools of Magic. **School of Magic** (Imperial Metric Schools) - Since unifying the study of Magic under the IMPERIAL METRIC system during the Spellcraft Revolution at the turn of the 20th century, 7 Schools of Magic exist: Evocation, Transmutation, Conjuration, Abjuration, Divination, Enchantment and Illusion. **Hybrid School of Magic** \- Rarely, some Mages awaken with Magic in between the Sanctioned Schools of Magic, belonging to no School. Of these types of Magic, Biomancy: the manipulation of Postive Energy and Necromancy: the manipulation of Negative Energy, reign supreme. **Awakening** \- The term is loosely used to describe an Acolyte coming to terms with their first School of Magic and their Affinity for an Element. In Frontier cities, NoM Civilians are filtered, with potential Mages tested for aptitude. In tier 1 cities, Mages naturally grow into their powers, training from an early age. A 'Stimuli Crystal' may be used to induce an Awakening, circulating mana into the recipient as to 'jolt' their Astral Bodies into existence. **Spellcraft** \- The study of Magic. The Imperial Metric System (IMS) splits spells into 9 Tiers. **Advanced Spellcraft Theorems** \- Spells whose theory and manifestation fall outside of existing methodology. Most universities study Advanced Spellcraft to push past the current boundaries of human knowledge of Magic. Those who contribute significantly to this study are awarded the title of Meister. **Sanctioned and Unsanctioned Magic** \- Sanctioned Magic may be purchased by Tower Mages with LDMs, HDMs, and CCs. Unsanctioned Magic may only be acquired through petition. If a Mage is found practising unlicenced Unsanctioned Magic, they are subject to severe punishments and even disbarment. **Sigil** \- A spiritual manifestation of one's affinity for particular forms of Magic, tied to the generation of one's Astral Body during Awakening. Each school of Magic possesses a unique Sigil under the IMS visualisation doctrine. **Glyph** \- Sigils exist only in one's mind. When Mages wish to manifest the concept of Sigils externally, they turn to Glyphs. Glyphs vary but may be thought of as symbols of power capable of channelling Magical energy as though a man-made conduit existing outside the Mage's body. Magic Items and Enchantments such as Wards rely exclusively on complex Glyphs and Mandalas. **Mandala** \- Taken from Tibetian Mysticism, Mandala refers to large-scale, complex Glyph arrays used to support complex Spellcraft manifestations. **Spell** \- A series of Incantations both somatic and verbal which triggers magical phenomena when exercised with mana from a Mage's Astral Body. **Rite** \- A spell requiring time, preparation, and setup, typically includes meditation, ritual and complex external components. Rites include city-wide Strategic-Class Spells. **Incantation** \- Invocations with somatic and verbal components. These are mnemonics which manifest Magic through Sigils. The higher the 'tier' of magic, the more complex and convoluted the number of Major and Minor Incantations. Senior and experienced Mages may specialise in particular spells so that they become 'silent'. **Shield** (Mage) - Shield refers to the mental ability for Mages to form a barrier of mana around their physical bodies. Even without training, a Mage is capable of manifesting a membrane of mana, projected just outside of their physical body, which displaces hostile mana and foreign objects. Abjuration specialises in forming persistent Shields and Shields that can manifest on Mages OTHER than the caster. **Acolyte** \- Neophytes and Acolytes are the colloquial names for beginner Mages. The moniker of Mage or Senior Mage is given to those with mastery over at least one school of magic, meaning access to spells over tier 4. **Magus** \- A Magus is an arcanist who has gained multiple Schools of Magic through talent or laborious study. To be called a Magus in public, the Mage must undergo examination within a Tower. **Magister** \- Likewise, a Magister is a peer-reviewed, publically sanctioned Magic Caster. Unlike the moniker of Magus, Magister is a title that comes with the weight of public service and responsibility of upholding the Tower's interest. **Meister** \- A Meister is a Magister, but not all Magister can become a Meister. A Meister is a Mage who has contributed significant advancement to Spellcraft, and whose work benefits all of Mankind. Claude Van Saint, the famous healer who pioneered modern magical medicine, is a Meister. Philo R. Farnsworth, the man responsible for proving that Illusions may exist as a form of media stored in Capture Crystals, is a Meister. As powerful as famous individuals like Henry Kilroy has been, his preference for keeping his studies wrapt and secret excludes him from the title of Meister. **Magi** \- A Mage whose power and command over Spellcraft exceed Sanctioned limits, going beyond the 9 Tiers. A Magi rarely concerns themselves with worldly affairs. They are seen as humanity's greatest deterrence against Demi-human and Magical Creature incursions. It is unfortunate that Magi are typically old and venerable. **Sanctioned Mage** \- A Mage registered under a Tower, beholden to its Laws, Codes of Conduct, and Ethics for Public Practice of Spellcraft. **Rogue Mage** \- A Free-Mage that is not registered, practices magic freely and therefore perceived as dangerous to society. **Tier** (spell) - Tier 1 to 9 of Spellcraft. Tier 1 - 3 is accessible to almost all Mages. This tier is capable of combating individual, as well as groups of Monsters. Tier 4 - 6 exists within the realm of all Maguses as well as most Senior Mages with a single School of Magic. This tier is capable of wiping out Monster lairs and Demi-human villages. Tier 7 - 9 is open usually to Magisters for reason of both academic-access as well as state sanction. High tiers of Magic can act as strategic-class spells capable of wiping out cities. **Tier** (Affinity) - The attunement of a Mage to their element. The higher the affinity, the higher the efficacy for Damage and Mana Cost. As Affinity grows, damage increases by a magnitude of 10% for every observable tier. Likewise, mana cost for spells decreases with higher affinity. Though damage increase appears to be on a linear scale, mana cost suffers from diminishing returns. As such, a spell will never be 'free'. Higher affinity likewise involves physiological and psychological changes for the Mage in question. Some examples are provided below, taken from the story-in-progress. **Fire** Mages are often hot-tempered and over-zealous, possessing a short fuse. Physiologically, they gain resistance to cold and heat. **Air** Mages become fragile and whispy, becoming airy and flighty in their mannerisms. **Earthern** Mages undergo the most profound physiological change, becoming taller and more robust, with enhanced musculature, increasing both strength and fortitude. **Water** Mages are known to be pliable and easily convinced, with personalities that like water, are capable of fitting any vessel. **Lightning** Mages gain increased metabolism, becoming prideful and possessive beings. **Ash** Mages are known to become apathetic. Their emotions become dulled by the continued practice of Ash Magic until they waste away. **Void** Mages are rumoured to exhibit extreme hunger, both physiologically and in terms of their psychological demands. **Ooze** Mages are said to be slothful and lazy, unmotivated and uninspired. **Mineral** Mages become dispassionate and pragmatic, often, their eyes take on the likeness of their attuned mineral element. **Positive Energy** Mages are ubiquitously known to be amiable, friendly and full of life and vigour, possessing a halo of likability. **Tier** (Creature) - A generic classification system used in common parlance to ratify the danger-level of a particular creature. Goblins usually have a tier of 1. A raid of Goblins may be up to 4 or 5. An adult Dragon up to 11. A Leviathan with a swarm of Mermen may be up to 25 - 30, requiring the mobilisation of a Tower or Towers. **Class** (Monster) - Military lexicon for the number of Mages needed to pacify a threat. Soldier-Class infer a single Mage. Lieutenant-Class infers the need for a Magus or two or more Mages. General Class requires a Magister. Usually, a party of Mage may subdue a Lieutenant-Class Magical Creature. A Party of Senior Mages lead by a Magus may defeat a General-Class Creature. Some creatures, such as Titans (overlarge Monsters) and Mythics (Land Gods) are likewise a part of this denomination. Class systems differ from nation to nation and are not an official Tower designation. **Wildlands** \- Lands not occupied by Human Cities, separated into Zones. Green - relatively safe for NoM habitation. Orange - unsafe for occupancy, safe for Mages to traverse. Purple - dangerous for both Mages and NoMs, contains hostile creatures that will disrupt human habitation. Black - extremely dangerous for human habitation; zone includes creatures that predate on humans. Environmental factors may also play into codified Zoning. **Demi-Humans** \- Humanoid races that share the Prime Material Plane with Humans. Friendly species include Nordic and Bavarian Dwarves, Keltic Elves, German Gnomes and Hobbits from New Zealand. Hostile races include Goblinoids, Dragonoids, Harpies, Serpentfolk, Merfolk, Mermen (Oceanic), Lizardmen, Dryads, and other sapient beings capable of speech. Like most Magical Creatures, these beings possess a Core. Some Demi-humans are capable of interbreeding with humans. The majority of Human cities are highly xenophobic and racially homogeneous. **Magical Creatures** \- Creatures generated by nature where the veil between the Prime Material and the Elemental Planes are weak. Current theory infers they are Elemental creatures that manifest into the Prime Material. Magical Creatures possess Cores, which are condensed mana that serve as the anchor of the creature's Essence to the Prime Material, giving it life. **Cores** (Creature) - From the lowest Snotling to the highest Ancient Dragon, all Magical Creatures possess Cores. Upon death, the Core shatters, releasing the wild energies contained within. Interesting fact - ancient creatures have highly condensed and compact Cores that are virtually impervious to damage. **Spirit** (s) - When a creature possesses a high level of anima, its Core may contain a Spirit. Spirits are potentially found in all forms of Creature Cores, though typically, it is exceedingly rare amongst lower order Magical Creatures. For Spirit-Seekers, the irony lies in that billions of low-tier creatures exist with a lottery's chance of possessing a Spirit. While beings with a high probability of retaining a Core upon death, as well as possessing both ego and anima, are exceedingly rare, and more often than not incredibly powerful. **Spirit** (Mage) - A Mage dreams of augmenting their elemental powers with a Spirit. A Spirit may be acquired through directly killing and harvesting Cores, then bending the will of the 'anima' of the creature contained therein to the Mage's service. When successfully attuned, the Spirit is absorbed into the Mage's Astral Body, becoming a part of the Mage's ability to channel Elemental powers. The alternate method of gaining a Spirit is through taming existing Magical Creatures and opening one's Astral Body to the foreign Spirit. This methodology is considered highly irregular and potentially fatal for an unsuspecting Mage incapable of melding with the entity. **Familiars** \- Typically, the Conjure Familiar spell is responsible for bonding Elemental entities to a Mage's psyche or anima. Such creatures are manifested from the psyche of the caster. When a Spirit is partnered with the Mage, the Anima of the Spirit usually takes the form of the Familiar. When a Spirit is bonded with a Mage already in possession of a Familiar, it usually subsumes the form of the Familiar and replaces it with its own. It is not known if Familiars can become Spirits through gaining ego and animus. **The Frontier** \- Originally a term denoting cities which are cut off from logistical support after WWII, the term has grown to encompass all Human territories lacking geodynamic Ley-lines. Some Frontier cities such as Merauke, Darwin, Chittagong, and Izmir, are little more than Human havens eking out a living in the wilderness, serving as little more than trading ports and supply stations. Prosperous Frontier cities such as Sydney, Singapore, Naples, Las Vegas, have a quality of life nearing tier 1 cities in all but name, lacking the geography, natural resource and political power to ascend into the status of a tier 1 city. With exceptions akin to continental hub-cities like Singapore and Istanbul, the vast majority of Frontier cities have limited access to Spellcraft and Magitech. **Tier 1 Cities** \- Cities build around powerful convergences of Ley-lines are considered tier 1 cities. These cities have the near-perpetual energy to supply to their internal and external Shielding Stations. To apply for tier 1 status, a city-state must pass muster with the Commonwealth Towers , joining the network of tier 1 cities. **Shielding Station** \- A stationary mini-Tower built to withstand the elements, manned by Abjurers and a patrolling team of Mages. At the heart of the Shielding Station is a Resonance Crystal which projects a frequency harmful to all beings possessing Cores not attuned to a Mage. A Shield Generator Tower creates the resonance, visually manifesting as a shimmering 'wall' or 'barrier', and additional, smaller station refract the "Shielding". **ISTC Station** \- The Inter-State Teleportation Circle Station allow Mages long-range teleportation to and from nations. Prohibitively expensive, ISTC Stations are used only by the upper echelon of Tower Mages and State-level operatives. Most tier 1 cities have ISTC stations to and from the Towers in allied cities, as well as its satellite, Frontier cities. **Tower** \- A robust structure with inbuilt Enchantments. A Tower can vary in size, function and power. In most cities, the Tower functions as a way-station, a bastion, and a nerve-centre for all magical matter. Even the most basic Tower include the ability to amplify the manifestation of Spellcraft of its stationed Mages, the levitation of its structural body, long-distance teleportation and displacement, and the ability to act as a mass-communication Divination array. A tier 1 city's Ley-lines usually provide power to the Tower. For Frontier cities with limited geodynamic supplies of mana, a significant cargo of HDMs are required. **The Towers** \- The United Nation Council of Towers (U.N) refers to a coalition of all Towers from around the world formed after World War II's Beast Tide. Akin to the U.N in Gwen's old world, the Towers sanctify and ratify the regulation of Spellcraft, the status of city-states, and mediate the conflicts of interest between Human nations. **Tower** (Commonwealth) - Towers belonging to the old British Mageocracy, said to have conquered more than 50% of all Human lands in its Golden Age. The Commonwealth form a loose factional coalition through a shared ideology of social democracy, English as a primary language, and mutual defence-pacts. **Tower** (Independent) - Towers not beholden to any specific faction and are wholly independent (on paper). Singapore, Istanbul, Tel Aviv, and Hong Kong are examples. **Tower** (State Owned) - Towers which are a part of the global network of Towers but are beholden to their city-states or nations. Almost all non-independent Towers belong to this category. **NoMs** \- Non-Magical Human Beings, also derivatively known as No-Magic. In the Frontier and tier 1 cities, NoMs serves as a labour force. The majority of NoMs work in agriculture and manufacturing, with a small percentile working in Administration and other white-collar positions. Most NoMs, whether because of indoctrination or the social climate, see the possibility of becoming a Mage, or introducing a Mage to their bloodline to be a way out of a life of oppression, poverty and mediocrity. **House** (Mage) - A bloodline of Mages usually with a powerful or influential Progenitor. A House usually includes three or more generations of Mages. A Branch House is when a potential heir, usually a sibling, starts a new House with the same bloodline. **Clan** (Mage) - A coalition of Houses sharing the same bloodline. A Clan involves several hundred individuals across a dozen Branch Houses, supporting the Main House. Clans are highly hierarchical. Clans are also unique, pending context and culture. Asian Clans focus on styles or Schools of Magic, while European Clans may focus on bloodline lineage. Some Clans operate by region, heedless of bloodline or magic. Due to the desire to keep a particular bloodline 'pure' or a specific magical talent prevalent, marriage within the Clan is common. **Sect** (Mage) - Sects can be religious, ideological, factional, or based upon styles of Magic. In China, old Doushi Clans evolved into Sects, with famous examples such as Kunlun, Huashan, Shaolin, Wutang, The White Lotus Society and so on. The Western world's Sects tend to be based around organised religion, while regions in continental Africa tend to have Sects based around tribal boundaries and shared ancestry. **Currency** \- The objective means by which trade is conducted. Humans use localised currency, LDMs, and HDMs. **Mana Crystals** (LDMs and HDMs) - Mana Crystal is the currency used by Mages across the human cities. In its raw form, they are harvested from places where the fabric between the Prime Material Plane and the Elemental Planes are thin, allowing 'crystalised' shards of mana to grow. Where there are large volumes of Mana Crystals, there are almost always powerful Magical Beasts. While most mana crystals are non-elementally aligned, rare and precious specimens do exist as gems and precious stones. Examples include Jadeite, Citrine, Emerald, Zircon and Turquoise. **Crystal Currency** \- Defined by the World Bank as a single shard of High or Low-density crystal, containing a standardised (1 LDM or 1 HDM) volume of mana. A shard of LDM resembles a fingerling crystal akin to a 3cm hexagonal pencil. The appearance of LDM currency is exemplified by its semi-opaque state. Comparatively, a shard of HDM is transparent and without blemish, measuring 5 CM. Certification is overseen by a cooperation between the Towers and a local agency (Bank of China, for example). The volume of crystals in circulation is often controlled on the Frontier. **LDMs** \- Low-Density Mana Crystals are commonly used on the Frontier and as lesser denominations. Raw shards of L-D crystal can be exchanged in terms of weight and total mana volume, but cannot be used as formal currency. **HDMs** \- High-Density Mana Crystals are the currency of choice for Mages in the tier 1 cities, consisting of compressed and certified crystals. **Currency Cards** \- Certified cards which contain 10 - 50 - 100 - 1000 HDMs that can be exchanged at local banking branches and Towers. **NoM Currency** \- Local currency issued by the government for use by the NoM population. In poorer Frontiers and tier 1 cities with large volumes of NoM activity, the local currency is vulnerable to hyperinflation, forgery, and currency fraud. **Demi-humans and Human Currency** \- As humans are the only race capable of mass-producing crystal currency, Demi-humans have taken to use human currency as the preferred unit of exchange for barter. Future Lexicon - Geo-Political Factions - Ideological Factions - Archetypal Mage - Combat Mage CQB Mage Artillery Mage Clerics Summoner Enchanters (Artifice) Scrolls Magic Items Magitech

On Tuesday morn, Gwen set out her schedule while basking in bed like a lounging lizard. She managed to jolt her brain with just enough juice to generate an itinerary: \- Work out a Spell-list with Petra after breakfast. \- Check out her CC balance at the Tower and see what’s for purchase. \- Establish a training schedule between November and early February. \- Try to catch up with Gunther and co. \- Contact Elvia. ‘Ding!’ Her Message Bracelet pinged. “Hello? Pats?” Petra had called to inform her cousin that Magister Wen had received ‘the good news’ and was thus expecting Gwen’s august presence at the 2nd PLA Hospital. “Oh.” Gwen's mood instantly fell several fathoms. “Okay, I’ll be there in an hour.” In her smallclothes, she walked onto the winter-garden to check the weather. With the quiet death of September, Summer had come and gone. Below, the oak and mulberry trees lining University Avenue were transforming into a river of brushed orange and daffodil yellows. Thinking of the hassle of changing into the hospital gowns, Gwen elected easy ankle-pants and a silk pullover sweater she had bought in Hangzhou that hung loosely over her body. She tied her hair into a knotted bun and rounded the outfit with her peep-toe Hermès. If there was one thing she loved about her insanely expensive magical-shoes, it was that damage-resistant, elementally-attuned, self-cleaning couture could be worn whenever, making the purchase of artisanal goods actually worthwhile. She took the subway, the same route Petra had shown her but in reverse, picking up a milk-tea on the way. Alighting from Wujiaochang, she then proceeded through the internal stratum of the hospital's megastructure until she reached the lab. “Miss Song, Magister Wen and Director Song are waiting for you,” a guard informed her politely. “Cheers, Cheng.” Gwen waved. Cheng beamed, he had not expected the girl to remember his name. “Have a nice day, Miss Song.” Gwen was surprised herself, given the perspicuity of her recall. Even with her babulya’s Clarified Ioun Stone, her memory was hardly eidetic. Was it a condition attributed to her newfound Draconic-essence? They did say Dragons held grudges forever. She entered the sterile laboratory. There was Magister Wen, seated by the affinity-machine, her pale crystalline eyes scanning over slates of data placed beside and in front of her. “Gwen.” She managed a smile, evidently less salty over Guo’s rebuke now that some time had passed. “Welcome back.” “Thank you, Ma’am.” Gwen nodded curtly, bowing succinctly. “Where’s Grandmother?” “She’s with Petra.” Wen patted a seat beside her. “Come, sit. Let’s talk.” Gwen kept her expression as ambiguous as possible as she ‘took a seat’. Her rip-roaring, palpitating heart, however, failed the subtlety test. The distinct impression Gwen felt was that she was seated next to one of those tigers you took a picture with while in Bangkok. “Come on. I won’t bite.” Gwen sat, her face a wholesome apple-pink despite her best efforts. “Look.” Magister Wen cleared her throat. “I am sorry.” Gwen blinked at the Magister. “I have allowed my curiosity get the better of me.” Magister Wen extended a hand. “Truce?” Gwen stared at the hand as though Wen had suddenly shoved a barbed tentacle in her face. She had known that Wen was awkward when it came to things like ‘empathy’, but asking for a ‘pass’ in the aftermath of having Gwen murder a stranger in the name of Spellcraft was a little too strange. But - she took Wen’s hand anyway. It took two to tango, and Gwen was confident she wouldn't be cheated again. Like a great statesman once said: "There's an old saying in Tennessee—I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee—that says, 'Fool me once, shame on...shame on you. Fool me — you can't get fooled again.' “Of course,” Gwen smiled amiably. “Let’s work together as before. We're both stakeholders, are we not?” “Very good!” Magister Wen stepped back, then stood awkwardly, unsure of what came next. “That was easier than I’d thought, to be honest. I had anticipated resistance or outright rejection.” “Nothing so complicated! We're colleagues, and also...” Gwen decided to do a little politicking of her own. “Secretary-General Miao sends his regards.” Wen visibly paled. “Yes. Yes indeed.” She forced a cringeworthy smile to her thin lips. "The Secretary's office did say to keep you out of harm's way." Watching Wen fidget, Gwen regretted borrowing the tiger’s terror, hoping that her spontaneous indiscretion would not make Petra’s tutelage under Wen more awkward than necessary. ‘Beep!’ The laboratory’s glyph-protected doors opened. “Gwen, you’re here!” Petra’s voice greeted the two already within the room. “Gwen, how are you feeling?” The other voice belonged to her babulya. “Alright!” Wen clasped her hands, interrupting the irksome public display of affection. “Let’s get some numbers!” Magister Wen stared at the script in her hands with such intensity that one wondered if her colourless, crystalline orbs would fracture. “Lightning - 6.54.” “Void - 4.32.” “Just how many mid-tier Lightning Creatures did you consume?!” Wen’s complexion appeared as though she had enjoyed a glass too many of chardonnay. “You were at 4.8! Your affinity growth is worthy of two decades of dedicated practice!” “Gwen.” Petra nudged her cousin. “Stop teasing my Master, bring out Ariel, I want to see what it’s giving you.” “Ariel!” “MAO's Tomb!” Wen spluttered. She had known that Gwen had a ‘Kirin-like Familiar’, but the visual confirmation was shocking nonetheless, especially as she had known Ariel in its infancy. In fact, by her recount, only a few weeks ago, Ariel had been a furry marten. The two girls bit back laughter. Seeing as Gwen, Petra and even Klavdiya were having a go at her expense; Wen took several seconds to compose herself. “Petra, help me set the machine up to measure Ariel,” she commanded, putting a hint of steel back into her shaky speech. As one of the very first individuals to encounter and study Gwen, she knew more than anyone else what the girl’s absurd growth portended. Her research with the Void was making steady headway. If she could replicate its effects, a Meistership was assured. As for their immediate question: If Gwen’s affinity was 6.54, how much of it was courtesy of Ariel? Spirits did not ‘add’ tiers of affinity in a linear sense. As denizens of their respective elemental Planes, they allowed for greater efficacy in energy transfer, spell manifestation, and of course, provided IFF. “6.35,” Petra announced once Ariel’s portion was read out. “A low-tier Spirit.” Wen touched a finger to her data-slate, seemingly relieved. “Ladies, we are in rare company.” Though both Klavidya and Petra had already known Gwen’s abilities, they nonetheless gaped with awe. Wen’s semi-sardonic remark was no joke. How many Mages could arguably boost a natural affinity over 6? How many Mages could look forward to their Spirit Familiar ultimately reaching a tier capable of adding a multiplier that could push it to 8 or 9? Would there come a day when Gwen’s tier 3 Lightning bolts possessed double the damage and range while necessitating a negligible volume of mana? Her tiers of Conjurations could be kept active almost forever. Her Dimension Door could range hundreds of meters while requiring a fraction of the cost. Gwen squirmed, unused to the feeling of familiar face gazing upon her as though they had spotted a tap dancing panda bear. “I wouldn’t celebrate yet.” Wen coughed, interrupting the moment of revelry. “Affinity doesn’t come free, you should know. Gwen is going to see some interesting mental and physiological changes too.” The coldness of Wen’s pragmatic advocacy doused Gwen’s affirming flame. It was true. She had already felt the influence of her prideful Element driving her onward even when the best course of action was to reverse course. Likewise, thinking of her uncle Jun, it was evident that without the Kirin Amulet, he would have become an apathetic cadaver incapable of caring for his most basic needs, kept alive only by servants and a team of attentive physicians. As for Hai, Gwen had no idea what the effects of Salt were. Despite being a quasi-element, it held only trace volumes of Negative Energy, making the Element more akin to Water. The next indexing machine wasn’t nearly as taxing on the women’s suspension of belief. “Evocation 4.69.” “Conjuration 5.22.” “Transmutation 2.75.” “Abjuration 2.01.” “Divination 1.35.” “Illusion 1.96.” “There’s significant growth on both your Primary schools,” Wen noted. “Did a lot of fighting, did you?” Gwen nodded. A lot of fighting was an understatement. She fought Merfolk, Draconic-fish, Draconic-deer, a Thunder Wyvern, then a whole fruit salad of Mages and even a Magus. “VMI 234.” An increase of 4, Gwen wondered if it was because of her extended bout against Golos, or if there was some mana floating around all those creatures she had gleefully Consumed. “Petra.” Klavdiya turned to her grandniece. “How’s Gwen’s theory-work?” Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. “Passable,” Petra noted. “Unless you're thinking of having Gwen take the Magus examination. Then no. She’s not even a second year.” Klavdiya turned to regard Gwen’s confused face. The girl was oblivious! It was adorable. “Mao’s ghost.” Her grandmother grimaced mirthfully. “I hope they won’t disqualify you for misrepresenting yourself. I don’t think there’s a Mage in all of Shanghai who can take down an actual Combat Magus in a one on one duel.” “Puahaha.” Gwen chuckled, pulling Petra close to her. “That’s the plan! Let em underestimate me, and then BAM! Crystals!” Behind the trio, Wen watched; her irises two pools of sterile, distilled water. If Gwen and her family had been more conscious, they would have noted the Magister's fingers trembling as her paper-thin lips formed an upward curl. As it was already noon, Gwen and Petra farewelled their babulya, then took lunch at a local deli selling Hongkong style bbq pheasants. “Far too greasy for me.” Petra polished off a leg, leaving the rest of the carcass to the ravenous Gwen. “Food in Hangzhou tasted so light.” Gwen swallowed, ignoring the usual stares from pedestrians and patrons. “Salt, sugar, and saturated fat, that’s Shanghainese food in a nutshell, haha.” “Well, don’t forget the soup.” Petra pointed at the extra bowls that came with the meal. “What say we check out Fudan T2? I am interested to see if your contribution to Morden’s Hound sold well.” “Oh yeah~!” Gwen quickly spooned down the sauce-soaked rice. She had forgotten all about Morden's Hound because Gunther had said he would take care of it. “Let’s go!” With both semesters over, the Tower was on half-staff roster. When a young man took their petition ticket, his eyes widened. “You’re Miss Petra Kuznetsova! And you’re Miss Gwen Song!” Ooo, Gwen mused. Are we famous? Or rather, am I infamous? “No Mongolian Death worm today, Ma'am?" “Caliban is taking a break.” Gwen reminded herself to let her Familiars 'air out' as soon as they got back to the apartment. Both at Mayuree’s place and with her hospital visit, she had put off re-summoning Caliban. "!" At the mention of its name, her Void-Familiar’s pocket dimension became agitated, indicating its desire to be out and about. “So, how can I be of service?” The young man’s eyes glowed, feverishly taking in the splendour of the Flower of Fudan and her cousin, The Worm Handler. He could hardly wait to tell his friends. He had met and served THE Worm Handler, in person! Too bad she didn't have her worm with her. “Checking on my CCs,” Gwen smiled and pushed over a signed slip. “Of course, Ma'am. It’ll only take a moment.” The young man returned a minute later with Gwen's data-slate. Gwen tapped through her profile. 203 CCs. HOLY corn-chips! There was a note attached as well: 'Gwen, the Tower has granted you access to Morden's Blood Hound and Hound Pack. In exchange, get Magister Wen or someone to help you with a report on how Master's Signature magic interacts with the spells. The Pudong Tower has been advised and should provide you with the scrolls - Gunther.' “Petra, I’ve got…” Gwen passed on the number discretely. Her cousin’s husky-blue eyes widened. “We’re going to need a private office,” Petra informed the helpful clerk. “And bring us the Spell Catalogue. Oh, can you check if Gwen has any items from Pudong?” “Yes, Ma’am!” For some reason, the young man saluted. The clerk escorted the two of them to a private chamber with opaque glass walls, then returned to deliver the thick volume of spells-for-sale. Under his other arm, the young man carried two scroll-cases reverently. "These are keyed to you mana signature, Ma'am." "Thank you." Petra gave the young man a dazzling smile, then clicked the doors shut, blocking out his stupidly grinning face. She materialised her tablet, several notepads, and pens. “Alright, sit down.” Gwen obediently followed her cousin's orders. “Write down your Spell list,” Petra commanded her. “Let’s see what we can do in the next ten months!” The girls spent the next few hours drawing up a chart of Spells Gwen may very well benefit from if she were to become a one-woman-party. Her Evocation was steadily working its way toward tier 5. Her acquisition of Ariel as a Lightning Spirit meant that with IFF, she could now be far more liberal with her range of Incantations. For tier 4, Evocation staples such as Ice Storm and Wall of Fire, which both had Elemental-shift variations, would both up Gwen’s combat utility as well as her AOE potential. Likewise, for tier 5, she had the incredibly useful Evocation-cum-Conjuration incantation ‘Bilby’s Hand’, a spell made famous by Magister Bilby Bigglesworth, the youngest disciple of Magister Morden. It was also a spell her Master had once shown her, though back then the possibility of her using the spell seemed so far away. **Bilby’s Hand** Conjuration (5) Casting Time: 41 Major, 40 Minor Incantation Range: 1 - 20M Components: Somatic, Verbal Duration: Persistent _A Signature Spell of Magister Bigglesworth adapted for modern Spellcraft. It is said that the Late Magister wished to improve on his favourite spell as an acolyte - ‘Mage Hand’. This variation of the Magister’s famous telekinetic incantation may be used by both Conjurers and Evokers, though knowledge in both schools is necessary to maximise the spell’s efficacy. Upon manifestation, a prehensile human hand between 1 to 2 meters in height appears. The Mage may control the manifestation as Mage Hand, commanding at will the phantom appendage to grasp, manipulate, push, pull or attack the target. The Elemental-shifted variation is intended for Mages with material elements such as prime, quasi, and para-elemental variations of Earth and Water._ “I am not so sure.” Gwen mulled over the possibility of ‘grabbing’ her opponents. What kind of Magister specialised in groping their targets? Did he grab a Dragon by the... neck? Perhaps a Centaur by the... mane? Or maybe a Lamassu by the... paws. With a famous spell like this, the Magister could grab whatever he wanted. “Its absurdly useful,” Petra corrected her cousin. “You could retrieve things from afar, save people from torrents, push back boulders; it’s one of the most versatile spells anyone could have. Not to mention the non-Elementally shifted variety is usually used for pacification. You’re still into that sort of thing, aren’t you?” “I’d say so.” Gwen sniggered. “Okay, I’ll keep it in mind. Still, 53 CCs!” “You won’t regret it,” Petra assured her. “Let’s keep going.” Cone of Cold, a spell firing away a blast of Lightning or Void Matter in a 90-degree cone extending up to 15 Meters, was another impressive AOE Gwen could now utilise at tier 5. As for the future, Petra pointed out that tier 6 brought the most potent spells a Magus could arguably employ without the need for mandalas. Maelstrom, Chain Lightning, Blade Barrier, all three were tried and true damage-dealers capable of changing the tide of a small battle. At the mention of Maelstrom, Gwen’s lip stiffened. She recalled the story of Elizabeth Sobel when the woman had first awakened to the Void. Her Master’s wife had then opened up a vortex which turned the Battle of the Brisbane Line, culminating in Sobel’s descent on to a dark and insane path of endless hunger. Would the same happen to her if an endlessly consuming miniaturised black hole opened up atop thousands of enemies? Gwen dispelled her doubt with annoyance. She was better than Elizabeth. She had the wisdom of Sobel's failure to guide her. She had Henry’s instruction. Moreover, she had her friends and family, she had her Almudj’s Essence. And unlike Sobel, her powers were gained through Caliban indirectly. “Now, about Conjuration…” So far, Gwen had only a single tier 5 Conjuration spell - Conjure Elemental Swarm. “I’d say pick up some of Morden’s spells, especially since you’re able to get a discount since you’re the originator of the new Elementally-shifted incantations.” "Got em right here!" Gwen announced proudly. "Freebies!" She opened the scroll-cases. At tier 5, there was Revised Morden’s Bloodhound. At tier 6, there was Revised Morden’s Bloodhound Pack. Once she could push into tier 6, with her VMI and her control over her Familiars, she could summon Caliban, Ariel, a single bloodhound, and a pack of up to a dozen dogs. She would indeed be a one-woman army! She could harass her enemies with her hounds, then let loose either an AOE or single-target assaults with Evocation, or even supplement the ‘swarm’ with Conjure Elemental. Just thinking about the glory of a pack of Lightning-dogs or Void-mongrels had her proverbial tail wagging! Going beyond the Hound-based options were other Conjuration staples such as Cloud-Kill, which filled an area with motes of Lightning or Void, perfect for dispersing mass-troop movements. Additionally, tier 6 in Conjuration marked the entry point for higher-order spells such as Planar Ally, a spell which bound a semi-intelligent tier 6-8 creature temporarily to the caster’s service. Likewise, Arcane Gate was the precursor to Teleportation at tier 7, allowing long-range, non-instantaneous transfer of the caster across vast distances. “Arcane Gate and Teleportation are Tower-only spells,” Petra pointed out helpfully, observing her cousin’s eyes aglow with passion. “You need to be a registered Sanctioned Magus to submit the applications for learning them. Anyone caught breaking the rules: be it Clan, House, Magus or Magister, is going to have to answer to the full force of the Council. Usually, a Mind Wipe would be the kindest punishment. In the worst case scenario, you could get iced. That’s why its easier to give one’s followers Teleportation Scrolls.” “I guess that makes sense.” Gwen thumbed the pages. A state can’t allow folks to come and go nilly-willy. It would make the idea of border security a joke. “What else we got?” “Here, I’ve outlined my suggestions. These are all utilitarian spells, by the way. Some of them you can’t use without theory. Next semester, you can pick up some Utility-courses to up your WAM, or take Secondary-Magic classes for things like Divination.” “Hmm…” Gwen browsed through Petra’s notes, one hand on the spell-list and the other on the Spellbook. Only one spell was highlighted for Transmutation - Flight, arguably the most important spell to master, and one that paired with every other School of Magic. But it was also the most time-consuming. She wasn’t just getting her metaphorical Provisional Driver’s licence; what she needed to acquire was the ability to circumnavigate like a boss while slinging spells, like Frank Martin in the Transporter, or Dom in the Fast and the Furious movies. As for Abjuration, Petra recommended against taking advanced courses that required extensive specialisation. Her Spell-list thus included only the staples. Tier 1 - Resistance, Endurance, Mage Armour, Alarm Tier 2 - Obscure Divination, Static Shield, Repulsion Shield Tier 3 - Ward, Explosive Glyph, Barrier “Bloody oath, that’s a lot of spells!” Gwen blurted out. “All practical.” Petra nudged her. “They’re not difficult to learn. I’ve neglected Dispel Magic, Dispel Curse and Negate Ward. Those are far too specialised, you’re not going to be working at a Shielding Station, so there’s no point wasting time on theory. Even if you did, there's a snowball in the Elemental Plane of Fire's chance you of all people would be called upon in a time of need.” “I am barely tier 2!” Gwen protested. "No way I am getting Abjuration to tier 3 in 10 months in addition to everything else." “Well, work on it. You could also pay CCs to study advancing Shielding theory with one of the Magisters. Where did you get your Signature Shield from again?” “Gunther.” “Well, I don’t know if there’s going to be someone like the Morning Star in Fudan.” The girls continued down the list. “Divination is going to be problematic,” Petra confessed. “You can ask Mayuree about it as well, but insofar as I know, if you want to serve as the Party’s Message relay, you won’t be able to cast high-tier spells yourself." “Too much static in the brain?” “More like you’ll be maintaining a Message mandala,” Petra sketched out the ‘problem’ for Gwen on a piece of scrap paper. “As you can see, the more ‘people’ you support, the more likely you’ll be inundated by their thoughts. There’s a reason Diviners are trained from the age of ten. Neither you nor I can handle it. Personally, I never Spell-cube Divination spells other than Detection Magic. If you want to play that role, get a Magic Item for it.” “Hmm…” Gwen touched the list with her index finger. As before, it was an impressive list: Tier 1 - Detect Traps, True Strike, Hunter’s Mark Tier 2 - Arcane Sight, Aura Sight, See Invisibility. Tier 3 - Link Familiar “That’s the one that allows you to look through your Familiar’s eyes,” Petra pointed out. “It’s going to be a chore to train up your Divination, but with a flying Familiar, I’d say it’s one of the most useful spells a Mage could have.” Ariel Surveillance? YES PLEASE. “I can imagine,” Gwen mused, giggling to herself. “Finally.” Petra moved her finger to the bottom of the Page. “I don’t recommend learning Illusion at all, but if you must - here’s a list of helpful spells for the IIUC. Keep in mind that like Abjuration, you’re going to have to attend beginner, intermediate, then specialist classes if you want to use the School in Combat.” “What’s wrong with Illusion?” “One, it’s useless against golems and the undead. Two, most of it requires so much concentration you need to be standing still while casting. Rare is the day that you see a flying Illusionist, but then again, you’ll be competing in the IIUC, so who knows? Illusion is big business in the States and Europe. Here? Not so much.” Gwen took note of Petra’s recommendations. Tier 1 - Auditory Hallucination Tier 2 - Haunting Mists, Mirror Image, Minor Image, Magic Mouth Tier 3 - Hypnotic Pattern, Haunting Vision, Lingering Image The list appeared as though she was going to operate a Rocky Horror House at a freakish carnival. What if she learned to summon visions of Lovecraftian Transvestites from Transylvania? After all, she had the entire 20th century’s horror genre to plagiarise. What if she paired Caliban and her Void-hounds with yet MORE gut-churning terrors? Gwen shuddered. There's potential there. What the hell would they call her after that? “You’ve got so many options that it’s become a burden.” Petra patted her cousin's head, hoping she hadn't burnt Gwen's brain. “Take your time. For now, work on your two main Primary Schools of Magic and get used to the Lightning. Didn't you say Caliban has a new form too?” Gwen nodded. "I can't test Caliban without live targets. Richard mentioned a dungeon, didn't he? Can you make it?" "I'll see," Petra answered. "It'll depend on duration, and my Master's schedule." Gwen nodded. She collated her notes, then closed the Spellbook. It would take time and advice to ruminate over her Spell-list. Maybe she could get a second opinion? Perhaps one of her lecturers was willing to give her some of their time?

The girls’ quiet dinner at home was joined by Richard and Lulan, both taking a few days off from adventuring. Kusu forbade Lulan from ‘being a bother’ to their saviour, but the ex-Clanner couldn’t care less about her brother’s idiosyncratic politeness, coming and going as she pleased. Conversely, Petra had taken a liking to the girl and didn’t mind Lulan at all. Perhaps it was because of Lulan’s ability, though more likely, Gwen guessed, it was because Lulan was what they called a ‘straight shooter’. The girl didn’t have a deceitful bone in her body. Whether because of her Iron affinity in Earthen magic or merely that she was raised to be simple, Lulan meshed well with the Russian beauty whose formative years were spent amongst Factional politics and intrigue. “So, what do you think about bringing Percy as a lucky charm?” Richard began after dinner was done and dusted. “It should be fine, though I’d have to confirm with Grandfather. I'll say its a bonding exercise.” Gwen wiped her hands on a napkin, then reached for the rice pudding. Now that she had a few days to settle down, her metabolism was giving her hell. Although her draconic essence suppressed her Void-induced hunger, it was no better in its relentless demand for snacking. “That would be best.” Richard leaned back. “Training with Lea is costing me an arm and a leg! We could all do with a boost to our extracurricular budget.” Upon hearing her name, Lea looked up from the living room, where she had been playing with Gwen’s familiars. Though sapient, the Undine felt more at home conversing with its fellow elementals, even if one of them was Void-serpent with endless hunger, and the other was a worshipful Kirin. When the trio had met the other night, Lea had been intimidated by Ariel’s draconic-demeanour, so much that she quivered behind Richard. It took a drop of her emerald-essence and several minutes of coaxing to finally convince Lea that Ariel was indeed its marten self and not some predatory Dragon looking to eat or mate. 'Look!' Gwen had pointed out. 'Ariel has no ding-a-ling!' “Where are you thinking of taking us?” Gwen spoke between mouthfuls of rice custard. “A Dungeon - well, a Monster Lair.” Richard produced a Lumen-caster from his ring, and projected images of what looked like a hole dug into the side of an escarpment, surrounded by dense shrubbery. “We were clearing the Tonglv canal when we discovered it.” “What’s in it?” “Water Monkey's Den.” "WOA~!" Gwen briefly envisioned ten billion Sea Monkeys swarming forth from the cavern’s mouth in a white-pink devouring wave, their little shrimpy claws snipping away at every inch of organic matter in their krill-path. “He means Watery Ghosts,” Petra pointed out, sensing Gwen’s remarkable confusion. But her cousin appeared taken yet again, now imagining ten billion undead, incorporeal Sea Monkeys rushing forth like that scene from Lord of the Rings, The Return of the King, only the spectral millions were starved Sea Monkeys out for vengeance against their neglectful teenage owners, lead by Krillagon, last of the Heir of Krillisildur. “They look like bedraggled Jueyuan.” Lulan decided to lend a helping hand. “Only with giant bulging eyes, sharp claws and teeth capable of chipping my iron sword. They’re also cannibalistic, though they prefer other meat. The locals say they're single-sex beings that rape human women, though I am sure that's made up. We saw females while we were in the den.” “Holy hell.” Gwen grimaced. “That sounds nasty as anything.” “Yep.” Richard observed the Familiars mucking about as he spoke. “Bloody good cores though, they’re semi-sapient and so make great material for mid-tier magical items. Especially for imbuing water-based Enchantments.” “Well, what’re we looking at?” Gwen, the capitalist entrepreneur, raised a critical, snobbish brow. “About 50 to 300 HDMs, pending on the tier,” Richard sagely advised. “There’s A LOT of the buggers in that cave though. We got through about three dozen of the little nippers before we had to retreat.” “How come?” Gwen glanced toward Lulan, the last persons she would have associated with the term 'retreat'. “They had the home ground, and they’re ambush predators, and they have low cunning, and they run away,” Lulan grumbled, puffing out her cheeks. “If it weren’t for Richard and Lea, some of us could have died.” “Their claws and teeth are poisonous as well,” Richard added. “At least these buggers are. Your wound festers if left unchecked, starts oozing pus after about an hour, then there's the fever.” “Sounds like an infection.” Gwen was reminded of a National Geographic episode she saw about Komodo Dragons. “Well, 'disease' then.” Richard shrugged. “We pushed about a kilometre before the caverns widened. Crevices and cross-tunnels all over the joint. I figured it would be best to get you in on the action, maybe invite Mina as well.” “Team cousin?” Gwen laughed. "Round two, monkey boogaloo?" “Possibly, unless Petra wants to come? We’re in it for the money after all. I doubt Tao and Mina would care for HDMs.” “I am always on the lookout for more HDMs.” Petra raised her hand. “Research, training, luncheons, rent, clothes, power, extra-curriculum - everything costs HDMs. Shanghai is an expensive city.” “Bloody oath, ain’t that the truth,” Richard laughed. “YES! Shanghai is VERY expensive! Kusu and I pay almost a hundred HDMs per month!” Lulan replied with a shell-shocked expression. When she had received her first paycheck of 300 HDMs, she had thought herself the wealthiest she had ever been. A few weeks later, 80 HDMs went to training, 55 went to rent, 25 went to food, and 75 went to tuition. Since then, Lulan had become budget-conscious, ever paranoid that a single mishap would wipe her out. Her immediate goal, though laughably insignificant, was to be as well provisioned as Gwen, casually spending 1 to 2 HDMs on high-class meals in fancy restaurants with 5-star reviews. She also had her eyes on some clothes which Kusu disapproved of; cementing her opinion of him as a dried up, scrotal prude. “The PLA ain’t taking care of it?” “Naw.” Richard shook his head. “There’s a Dungeon-Clear bounty though. I am betting there’s a bigger monster inside controlling these fish-faced monkeys. They’re staying put for now, but once their numbers swell…” “They’ll be out in force,” Petra agreed. “The Construction Bureau's cleared the land, right? It's aquaculture from the Yangtze to the coast.” "So what?" Lulan asked. "That's how it is in Hangzhou and Suzhou." “That means no more food for the Water Ghosts,” Gwen expanded on Petra’s conjecture, a simple enough ecological deduction. The destruction of hunting habitats meant apex fauna had to forage for food elsewhere. As for the Water Ghosts of Tonglv Canal, it just so happened that there were 7 million odd meals in Nantong within half a day’s travel. Of course, Shield Stations sheltered the city, but there were tens of thousands of labourers working outside here and there on the canal, enlarging the city’s transportation infrastructure. “Which is why we should take advantage of the bounty before the local authorities are forced to act,” Richard declared. “I am sure the locals are keen to be not torn apart in their sleep either.” “Why does Nantong sound so familiar?” Gwen cocked their head. “I've got it on the tip of my tongue.” “I worked there a few months ago,” Richard reminded her. “NO WAIT!” Gwen felt a bulb ignite briefly through the air. “Nantong! The Nantong Fungs! Dai’s Clan!” “You know the Fungs?” Lulan’s mouth grew sulky. “They’re incredibly uppity! Think they’re better than us just because Nantong's been rezoned to be a part of Shanghai. They're a boat clan, you know.” “Lulu means the deep-water port,” Richard added helpfully. “The Tonglv Canal offers access to the South China Sea and has trade routes running up to Korea, Japan and the north-east coast of China.” “Right, thanks, Dick. Lulu, if you meant Dai, we're acquaintances.” Gwen determined that after fighting off Wonsoo and Golos, her instigated duel with Dai’s bodyguard was child’s play. She wondered if it was possible that she could K.O the guy with a single Elemental Sphere. To think that she’d struggled six months ago! Caliban’s Consumption truly was a cheat-like ability. “The Young Master owes me a favour.” Gwen watched as Lulu's thin, petal-pink lips made an adorable ‘O’. Ever since Lulan’s restoration, she not only looked younger, but more refined as well. Not having to deal with damaged mana channels and a faulty implant that polluted one’s Astral Body could do wonders for a girl's complexion. “So, interested?” Richard implored his cousin. “We haven’t done anything together since Hengsha.” “Of course! Sign me up!” Gwen clenched her hand for a fist-bump, which Richard smoothly addressed with one of his own. “Me too!” Lulan raised her fist as well. Gwen met her halfway. “Pats?” Gwen floated a fist toward their femme fatale. Petra rolled her eyes. Then met Gwen halfway. “FOR HDMS!” “FOR CORES!” “FOR CCs!” “…” Petra refrained from joining the cringeworthy battle cry. If anything, she whispered, 'For dignity!' “I’ll let you know by the end of the week.” Richard packed his bowl and chopsticks. “You do your best with our lucky charm.” Stolen novel; please report. Back at the apartment, Gwen took it upon herself to ask Gunther and Alesia for advice regarding her Spell-list. They had been discussing the virtues of Creature Mage combat versus aerial casting when Gunther dropped a bomb on her. "ARE YOU SERIOUS?" Gwen shrieked, her startled voice rattling the panes. "Absolutely." Gunther laughed. "Ariel can direct Morden's Hound Pack. The Arch-Mage's Familiar, Milo, was a Church Grim. It was said to be his Pack's Alpha." Gwen saw sparks. Ariel, leading a pack of Lightning Dogs?! Could anything in this world be more perfect? “Ugh, I can’t believe you’ve almost caught up,” Alesia's voice uttered from somewhere beside Gunther. “I am… bloody hell, I am thirty-four! Twice your age! What the hell am I doing?!” “Don’t dwell on it.” Gunther brought Alesia into view, giving her a peck on the forehead even as he wiggled his brow conspiratorially at Gwen to keep from pushing the matter. “More importantly, I am pleased that Ariel mutated into a spirit, and a pseudo-Kirin no less. I dare say it's going to bring you fame and trouble in equal measure.” “Ah~, about that.” Gwen sat back down on the living room couch. “I was hoping you could tell me more. Did Master ever mention anything about Signature Conjure Familiar rituals?” Gunther shook his head. “Not to me. At least not for Conjuration. My Schools are all over the place. I Majored in Evocation. Additionally, Master and I developed an Illusion-Conjuration secondary school to amplify my Radiant powers. Master Henry was an outstanding theorist. Alesia’s Spellbook is likewise chock-full of Signature spells.” “I wish I could have known him for longer,” Gwen lamented sadly. The loss of her mentor had come so suddenly that even now she felt as though she could return to Sydney and see Sufina and Henry sitting in the Grot, sipping on a cuppa of Golden Mead. “More than a teacher, Master was like a father to us.” Gunther echoed Gwen's grievance, sympathising with the dour atmosphere. “He had a lot of secrets though. He once told me that he hoarded Signature Spells because Elizabeth Sobel could utilise every School of Magic.” Gwen nodded. That made sense. To think that if Henry had remained alive, she would have inherited a treasure trove of Signature Spells from around the world. “Did Master leave behind any clues for something like a Grimoire collection? Scrolls?” “No,” Gunther refuted her hopeful fancy. “If anything, Sufina would have a copy, but you were the last one to see her.” “She didn’t mention anything,” Gwen recalled her last meeting with Sufina. “She had already grown distant by then; I think she’ll revert to her baser instincts after another decade. I hope she’ll at least remember us.” “I hope so too.” Gunther’s face took on a grim cast. “It’s too bad you couldn’t assume Master’s talent for the Prime Element; else you could have inherited Sufina. I am sure she would have liked you. Remember how you used to feed her that viridescent mana of yours?” “Oh~, about that…” Gwen explained the ordeal with her Druidic Essence, with their serpent friend ‘Al’, and her recent acquisition of Draconic Essence. Her Brother-in-craft took on a thoughtful expression. “Maybe you should pay Sufina a visit in the near future, anytime within the next five years,” Gunther suggested. “As for Alesia and I, we’ll join you as soon as we’re able to bring back Sobel’s head.” “On a silver platter,” Gwen added helpfully. "Don't forget, I am a part of this as well. I am coming too." “Of course.” A smile touched Gunther’s lips, his pupils glowing like two embers in the ambient light of Alesia's apartment. “It haunts me, you know.” “What does?” “My failure.” Gunther’s chiselled jaws clenched. “Being unable to prevent Sobel's ploy. Being baited to fight the Leviathan. Given the same choice, I would have gladly allowed the numberless millions to die if it meant Master could be here with us today.” “Would Master have wanted that though?” Gwen caught the flash of pain as it crossed Gunther's laconic face. Her chest grew constricted; the rare display of raw emotion made it all the more powerful. “Master would have wanted you to help the city.” “I know.” Gunther sighed. Gwen wondered if Gunther would have liked to be 'Alesia' once in a while and just let loose. “They sentenced Walken, you know. Stripped him of his titles. He’s retired now. Gone to a teaching job. His Faction fell apart. Magister Ferris is the head of the Grey Market now. They’re fully compliant with the rebuilding of the city.” “That’s good to hear.” Gwen could feel Gunther’s frustration. Her Brother-in-craft would have coveted nothing more than to annihilate Walken, whose misunderstanding had expelled Gunther from the Tower at a critical junction. It was unfortunate that the Radiant Mage's sense of justice did not allow him the satisfaction, knowing that Walken was as much a victim of Sobel’s conspiracy as anyone else. “Gunther, are you done?” Alesia’s voice came through the LRM Device. “I want to speak to Gwen.” “She’s all yours.” Gunther retreated from the projected image. “And Gwen, enjoy those CCs. Master might not have left you a Spell Book, but he certainly left you an inheritance.” “Thanks, Gunther.” Gwen blinked away a few drops of wayward moisture. “Gwen!” “Alesia!” Gwen watched as Alesia’s face drifted closer. Her Sister-in-craft had regained her lost vivacity; she appeared far healthier than when they’d last spoken; her complexion once again had that glow atypical of Australian women. “Bring out Ariel again! I want to see Caliban too!” Gwen obliged. “Awww, how wonderful!” Alesia cooed. “I could snuggle Ariel all day, and maybe Caliban, just for a little bit.” “Ha.” Gwen snickered, wondering how Alesia would feel if she could see Caliban in its Horror Stag Form. The two women then discoursed regarding Gwen’s future Spellcraft training. Gwen reiterated her proposed Spell-list, asking Alesia for a second opinion. “I wouldn’t bother with Illusion or Abjuration, to be honest,” Alesia pointed out. “I would focus on Divination, empower my Evocation and Conjuration, master Flight, and specialise as a Hunter-Killer. With Void and tier 6 Lightning, you could be peerless. Get Morden's Dogs up, and you'll be a bonafide living nightmare. Between Dimension Door and Flight, you should be perfectly safe. Don’t you have Gunther’s Shield as well?” “Hmm…” Gwen weighed Alesia’s advise. It was certainly true that she was a glutton for spells. “Thanks, Sis. I’ll consider your input.” “Don't over-generalise, but don't over specialise. Too much specialisation and you breed in weakness. You’re going to have teammates. No matter how many spells you know, you're one woman. As a single Mage, you can’t multi-cast anyway,” Alesia advised. “Don't pussyfoot around when you can lay down the Wrath of God. Let’s see some sucker try to attack when they're one Lightning bolt away from electrocution.” "Well spoken." Gwen snorted. “Good.” Alesia beamed. “Now tell me again about how you thrashed this Golos feller, in the ass, you say?” Gwen wanted to call Elvia as well, but it was getting late. 8 PM in Shanghai meant noon in London. There was no way that on a Tuesday, at midday, Elvia would be in the dorm with nothing to do. She would have to wait for a more convenient time or wait for Elvia to call her back. “Done?” Petra always secluded herself in her bedroom whenever Gwen called her companions overseas. Her cousin’s self-imposed discipline made Gwen feel glad, grateful, and guilty. “Sorry.” Gwen dipped her head. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us? Alesia seems quite taken with you.” Petra shook her head. “Divided loyalties are never a good thing.” The Russian smiled, her luscious lips forming a rouged crescent. “As long as my studies under Master continues, I am bound to her for the duration of our relationship.” Gwen inclined her head. She had raised the matter of Petra’s apprenticeship with their babulya. Klavdiya had assured Gwen that Petra wasn’t an ‘inheriting disciple’ but rather an 'apprentice' in a mutually beneficial relationship. It was akin to the ‘Apprenticeship’ that Alesia had offered Gwen at her uncle’s house; in the parlance of Gwen’s old world vernacular, Petra would be a PhD student, and Wen her Supervising Professor. Other than guidance, knowledge and a co-authorship, Petra stood to inherit nothing from Wen, and so was bound to the Magister only for the duration of their Thesis on Spell-Cubes. Once released from Wen’s studies after another year or two, Petra would be able to apply for tenure at an institution, join either of the Towers or failing that, become a private consultant. “Feel like a snack?” Petra shook her head. More than a snack, it was more accurate to say that Gwen took meals just before she slept. Once, Gwen had fallen asleep while cooking instant noodles and had almost pulled a Marong, clearing out the whole apartment with the smoke from her flaming ramen. “G’nite, Pats.” “Nite, let me know what you end up picking.” "Will do!" ‘Ding!’ Bleary-eyed, Gwen reached for her Messenger Device. “Gwen!” Mayuree’s voice came across the vox-glyph. "Can you come up?" Naturally, Gwen was still in bed. “Why… something important?” “I’ve got Enchanter Maymaruya here to talk to you, can you come up?” “Sure, let me get ready!” “Dress up!” “Alright, alright,” Gwen buzzed back. “Give me twenty.” “TEN!” Gwen rolled out of bed. A quick circulation of her Draconic Essence was enough to chase away her physical fatigue, though her increased metabolism was giving her an unexpected bane - insomnia. She either woke up hungry, experienced hyper-arousal for no discernible reason, or laid back in bed with her eyes wide open. She retrieved her matt-navy mini dress from her Storage Ring. Its flared sleeves were formal enough, while its modest hem gave her a dangerous and titillating edge. For shoes, Gwen stuck to her Hermès; she had worn it daily since Hangzhou, savouring the afterglow. A quick over-the-shoulder ponytail and a pair of cat-eyes later, she was up and over. “Good morning!” Gwen greeted Mayuree and the old gent seated in the lower living room. Hastily, she scanned the room for Mayuree’s erstwhile shadow, Kitty, but the girl was nowhere in sight. “I am sorry for being late.” “Miss Song.” The Magus dipped his chin respectfully. “I am Magus Maymaruya, serving under the House of M.” “Sir, Mia said that you have business with me?” “Miss Song.” The Magus remained standing while Gwen sat, making her a little uncomfortable. “I would like the pleasure of purchasing and inscribing the Earth Dragon Core you have provided.” Gwen turned to Mayuree. “He means the pangolin.” “Ah.” Gwen nodded. “I would not mind. It’s not mine though, or rather, half of it is mine. How may I repay my benefactor if I were to allow this favour?” “In currency, favour, or service,” the Magus immediately addressed her concern. “Mayuree’s elder sister, Miss Maymyint, has dire need of it.” “What do you wish to do with the Core?” “A gift,” Haymaruya declared. “For the Tyrant of our conquered homeland.” Gwen raised an exquisite brow. She and Mayuree had an unspoken pact. She would not unduly expose Mayuree’s history or family, and Mayuree steered clear of hers. They were friends and allies, and it was best to remain as such on the best of terms. Should they unduly gain too much knowledge of one another, it would likely impact the path upon which Mayuree’s prophesy lay. Beside Gwen, Mayuree remained as quiet as a sleeping lamb. If knowledge were to be passed under innocuous circumstances, who was she to put a stop to what came naturally? “Where are you from, Magus Maymaruya?” “Please, just Maymaruya.” “Maymaruya.” Gwen squared her shoulders. "Please call me Gwen." “From a Frontier south of China.” The Magus’ face grew nostalgic. “A place rich in jade and gems and the bounties of nature. A fallen kingdom once called Myăma.” “BURMA?” Gwen blurted out. “Mayuree, you’re from Burma?!” “Please do not use that name.” Maymaruya spoked with quiet dignity. “That is the name of a colonised country. We are the people of Myăma.” “Right, sorry.” With the aid of her clarifying Ioun Stone, Gwen tried to reconstruct as much of her twin-world reconstruction of Myăma as possible. All she recalled was that the place was a constant hotbed of human rights disputes - that and Aung San Suu Kyi was one of its heroes, suffering house arrest until finally bringing a semblance of democracy to the country in 2015. If this is the year 2003, it could only mean that the Junta was well in control of the state and that in four years, there may very well be a violent but futile uprising. “Say, I might be completely wrong, but how’s Miss Aung San Suu Kyi these days?” “The daughter of General Aung San?” Maymaruya’s face grew stern. “Her name is Aung San Yuzana. She is unfortunately imprisoned in our captive nation, kept as a prize by the tyrant. Who is this Miss Suu Kyi?” Gwen quickly glanced toward Mayuree, who sipped her tea gingerly. “No one. How’s the situation with the Military Junta?” Maymaruya appeared confused. “What is… this Junta?” “Sorry.” Gwen coughed. “I am not well-informed regarding Myăma. Who is keeping General Aung San’s daughter captive?” “A name that shall not pass our lips, for its gaze sees far, and its ears hear all.” Gwen’s mind furiously connected the dots presented to her. Mayuree’s family owned and operated a Mercantile House called the House of M. She came from a ‘conquered land’ called Myăma. A ‘beast’ ruled the fallen Frontier, a place famous for gems, jade, and jewels. It kept the famous daughter of the nation’s founder captive. A beast that hoarded gems, coveted jewels, and kept a girl captive after taking a kingdom hostage? RIGHT. “So.” Gwen smiled delicately for the Enchanter. “Tell me about this Dragon. It's not called... Smaug... is it?”

“The Tyrant came upon Myăma some two decades ago,” Maymaruya began, his countenance the manner of one delivering a eulogy. “At first, like the fabled Yinglong, it desired only a mountain upon which to nest. As a remote Frontier city in the 1980s, Yangon did not possess a Tower capable of defeating the tyrant without crippling our city-state. We asked for help from the British Mageocracy, though as expected, no help came; the newly formed Commonwealth was too busy establishing its Towers all over the world to oversee the problems of a deserted colony.” “Not Smaug then. Still, I am guessing it came…” Gwen dug through her long-term memory for what she could recall of Burma. “For the Jade, and the gold?” “Yes.” Maymaruya nodded. “It came for the jadeite, the gems and the gold.” Gwen was happy to know that at least some of her old world knowledge still held up. British Imperial Burma, now officially known as Myăma, had once been a thriving kingdom. Like all medieval kingdoms, it fell to decay and internal strife and was conquered by the British Empire during its Pax Britannica days. Despite its infamy for poverty, Burma was in fact, one of the wealthiest regions in the world when it came to natural resources. The struggling nation possessed an untapped trove of exotic animals, lumber, natural gas, oil reserves and native fisheries. Most notably, however, British controlled Burma was infamous for its blood-jade and gem trade. No other place on earth could produce jadeite with the clarity and hardness of Kachin’s excavated stones. It was no wonder then that a Dragon had taken an interest. In a world of Arcana, Jadeite could substitute for Creature Cores, being itself a form of congealed mana formed of the Quasi-elemental Plane of Minerals. Though Gwen herself had little longing for jade, she had seen the Chinese Mages donning their jade pendants, earrings, thumb rings, belt buckles and waist-danglers. “The House of M was called by another name then,” Maymaruya continued. “We were the lords of Tawmao and Khansee, the heartland of Myăma’s jade trade, inheritors of the old kingdom.” “I see.” Gwen paused. "Did you dig too deep looking for the wonders of Myăma and then awoke a nameless evil?" "You are too perceptive, Gwen. Yes. It was in 76' that we unearthed the Jade Pillar, an enormous lode of Jadeite of the highest purity, possessing an incredibly dense core capable of serving as the basis of a Tower’s nucleus.” “So, a Dungeon Core?” Gwen wasn’t up to date on the matter. “Indeed, that would be the name for such a thing in today’s parlance,” Maymaruya affirmed her suspicions. “A Tower needs to tap into geo-dynamic Ley-lines, and only a Dungeon Core possesses the density and size necessary for channelling the earth’s natural energies.” “What IS a Dungeon Core, if you don’t mind me asking,” Gwen implored. “I am only a student, Magus Maymaruya. Please excuse my ignorance.” “I take no offence,” the Magus replied. “Mayuree, are you listening?” “Yeah, yeah.” Mayuree battered a hand. Gwen gave Mia a comforting smile, which she returned warily, unsure of where this was all going and fighting the urge to find out. “You must know about Creature Cores.” Maymaruya raised the Pangolin core. “Yes.” “Good. A Dungeon Core is not so dissimilar; it is a solidified mass of condensed elemental material, buried deep down in the earth where subterranean Ley-lines meet. Did you know that the PLA Superstructural Tower has at its heart the King-Stone of the Huang River? I was a part of the team that excavated it.” Magus Maymaruya mimed his incredulity with animated glee. “Three storeys high it was, big as a skyscraper, entirely consisting of condensed Earthen mana. It took the team six months to move it to the construction site, and another two years to carve the glyphs necessary to channel its latent energies.” Gwen made an ‘O’ with her lips. “But I digress. As I was saying, having found the Jade Pillar, our city-state was readying itself for building our Tower. We had even invited the Mageocracy’s Magisters to aid us in our endeavour.” “But the Dragon had other ideas.” “Indeed. The 70s was a time when unified magic was young, Miss Song. You must understand that our nation struggled with Western Spellcraft, possessing only six Magisters and no more than three dozen Maguses. There was no way we could have fought the Tyrant to a standstill. Even if we had won, there wasn’t enough of us left to rebuild Yangon.” “We attempted to placate it at first. The Tyrant had remained on Mount Arakan, in the Golden Valley, minding the territory and warding off lesser beasts. It had even made the region safe for human habitation. We were wary, and so was the Tyrant. But of course, human nature prevailed. A few of the local Lords thought the creature Divine, though I could hardly blame them. After all, our Goddess is a Naga, a form of Dragon-kin. They approached the Tyrant with carts of polished jadeite and nephrite, stoking the creature’s insatiable greed. Over time, the Tyrant grew more and more voracious until it caught news of what we had unearthed in Tawmao.” With a greedy ear, Gwen eagerly consumed every word. The Enchanter’s alternative-history of a colonised nation was music to her ears! “That was the beginning of the end for our city-state.” Maymaruya shook his head wistfully. “Arriving at our capital, the Tyrant destroyed the construction site, chased off the Mages, then carried away the Jade Pillar, calling it the cornerstone of its unholy palace. Surprised and beaten, we desperately attempted to retrieve the Pillar. Without it, we could not construct our Tower. We asked for help, but once more we were outdone by human nature. Factions within the Mageocracy took advantage of our weakness. Old allies and new enemies from China, India, Japan and Britain flooded the country under the guise of ‘aiding’ our city, only to pillage Tawmao of its jade, leaving our people to rot.” “After that, those of us who survived fled the country. We smuggled out what we could and established a trade consortium with our shamefully gotten gains, amassing wealth and waiting for the day when we could raise an army, gaining enough influence as to invite a tier 1 city’s leadership into helping us reclaim Yangon.” “What’s happening with Yangon now, as we speak?” Gwen enquired. “It survives, barely. Until the Tyrant is removed, I fear, we will never have our Tower. Without a Tower, we are cut off, unable to join the ranks of even minor Frontiers like Chittagong, or compete with our neighbours in Bangkok. Gwen turned to Mayuree, who’d been silent the whole time. “Was I supposed to hear that?” “Was Miss Song not in the know?” Magus Maymaruya coughed gingerly. “At all? You had spoken of her so dearly that I’d thought…” “It’s fine.” Mayuree visibly relaxed, as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “The Goddess willed it. I was no more than her instrument. Well, Gwen, now you know about the House of M!” “So the M stands for Myăma?” “Close enough.” Mayuree smiled. “It stands for our country, of course, but also for our displaced House and home. There’s a symbolic significance as well. The M stands for Mü, nothing. Until we recover Tawmao and restore Yangon, we are the house of ‘Nothing’.” “The House of Moo…” Gwen rolled the words across her tongue. “Yes, the House of M is definitely what I would have stuck with as well.” Mayuree, who must have been well versed in English, wouldn’t have it. The two girls had a pleasant chuckle, offsetting the heavy atmosphere. “So, what can I do to help?” “Nothing.” Mayuree rested her hands on her honeyed thighs. “It’s not your problem.” “But?” “There is no but,” Mayuree insisted. “Come back when you’re a Tower Master. We can pay to fly your Tower over and fight this dragon, haha.” “Alright, I’ll keep foreign aid as a top priority.” Gwen grinned. “So, tell me about this gift. Why are you giving this ‘tyrant’ of yours Magical Items?” “It’s a Trojan gambit,” Mayuree divulged readily. “Maymaruya says that the Pangolin Core contains traces of the Yinglong’s essence. Dragons are extremely territorial. Mixing items like this into the jade we send it will make it think that another Dragon is encroaching on its territory. If nothing else, it’ll be losing sleep - and Dragons love to sleep.” “What if you well and truly piss it off?” Mayuree tilted her head. Maymaruya explained for his young mistress. “Not even the Tyrant can detect the whereabouts of a thing like this if we embed it into a procession of jadeite Bodhisattva. It would have to destroy the visage of the Naga Goddess to get at the Core, and the Tyrant is too superstitious a being to do that and too greedy a drake to relent a priceless carving of Imperial grade jadeite.” “Eek, the woes of being a Dragon,” Gwen mused. Like a starving man eating raw turnip; the stinging acridness of the bitter flesh made one vomit, but the hunger disallowed such a meal to be forsaken. “There are worse things.” Mayuree stretched. The girl was impressively flexible, reminding Gwen of her cat. "As the Tyrant's essence pervades these statues, they will subsume and 'erase' the essence of the Earthen drake. A land God as powerful as the Yinglong would certainly sense such a thing. Maybe it'll stir the pot for us, dislodge the Tyrant?" If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Gwen wondered if she should say something like they were playing with Dragon-fire, but she was too uninvolved to start telling people how to recover their long-lost homelands. If Thorin could have been persuaded, the book would have ended differently. “So, the House of M will pay in currency, favour, or service; up to you. What do you say?” “I am fine with it,” Gwen conceded. She wouldn’t know the first thing about hawking the Core of a Sapient Earthen Dragon-kin, but she could trust Mayuree on offering a fair price. “Myăma, huh? A House of Nothing. I am so sorry, Mia.” “It’s been like that since I was born, so I don’t feel the loss, not like Maymaruya here.” “You would have loved Yangon, young Mistress.” the Magus' voice was pregnant with nostalgia. “It would warm my old heart if you could see it one day, the city that is - the avenues abloom with Dendrobium, Frangipani and Cherry Blossoms; the Sule Pagoda resplendent in gold and ivory, the saffron-clad monk boys, walking to morning prayer beside the cafes of the Yangon Riviera. We had all of that before the Tyrant usurped the city’s jade, gems, ivory and gold.” “That sounds nice.” Mayuree closed her eyes. Imagining the serene scenes of the Riviera. “One day.” The Magus sighed. The Enchanter then turned to Gwen. “Miss Song, are there any items you wish to craft right now?” “Honestly? I have no idea.” Gwen smiled politely. “Mayuree, any suggestions?” “Not unless you want to disclose your spell-list and talents.” Mayuree put up her hands before Gwen could respond. “No, no, don’t do that. Trust me. Just tell us what you need.” “I don’t know what I need.” Gwen faced the dilemma of a high-maintenance girlfriend being asked what she wanted for dinner. “Our in-house Crafters specialise in Ioun Stones, pendants, rings, earrings, precious stone bracelets,” Mayuree informed her friend expertly. “Maymaruya, can you give Gwen a few recommendations.” “Our most popular products are Contingency Rings.” The Magus smiled. "But I can see you have one already." Mayuree glanced at Gwen’s fingers. “An exceptionally master-crafted device.” The Magus begged for her permission. “May I take a closer look?” Gwen extended her lithe fingers, fancying herself performing the mafioso gesture of one looking to have a signet ring kissed. A brief glow flashed across the Magus’ eyes. “From the Royal House of Asscher!” The Magus snapped back, punctuated by a sharp intake of breath. “Mistress Mayuree! Is your friend of noble lineage? Are we in the company of a noblewoman?” “No, no!” Gwen withdrew her hand quickly. “I am just a nobody from Sydney’s redneck south coast!” “Impossible! You are too modest.” Magus Maymaruya was shaking with excitement. “The Royal House of Asscher are jewellers given the title by the Dynasty of Queen Juliana herself! They were and continue to be the foremost Enchanters in the field of Gemmology! They pioneered the Spellcraft behind Contingency Magic, the basis of which is the Royal Asscher 17-facet algorithm! Yours is an incredible collector's item. From the cut, the clarity of the Core, and the glamour applied to it, Goddess, it could be worth a hundred thousand, without question!” OH FUCK. Gwen felt her hand immediately grow sweaty, as though the ring might slip from her fingers at any moment. GUNTHER gave her a ring worth enough currency to buy… God knows, a lot of things! Hadn’t Jonas and Paul, Alesia’s crew, joked that Gunther’s ring was like 15,000 HDMs? Why is it worth ten times the amount now?! “Maymaruya…” Mayuree coughed. “Of course, you may trust my discretion - on my life,” the Magus announced, placing a hand to his chest. “By the Naga Goddess, I will keep your heritage a secret, Mistress Song.” There’s a terrible misunderstanding, Gwen wanted to say. Having the Magus in awe, however, wasn't a bad thing. She had told the truth - the man's opinion was his own business. “Thank you, Maymaruya.” Gwen smiled regally. “Now, your suggestions?” “We possess several useful patents,” the Magus continued. Swiping his hand across the table, the Magus produced four intricate jewellery boxes. “Oo~.” Gwen’s eyes sparkled. “The first is a Band of the Lamassu.” Maymaruya opened one of the boxes, revealing a ring in the form of a lion biting its tail. “It performs several auditory functions. The first is the ability to project your voice, which can be used at will. The second is the ability to generate a tier 3 shatter effect against hard-Shields, three times per day. Finally, once per day, it can be used to project a sonic Cone at tier 5, as per Cone of Cold. Used with Lightning, I would mark the Shatter at tier 4.” “How useful is it?” Gwen turned to Mayuree. “There’s no casting cost, no need for incantation, and the effects happen at-will,” Mayuree advised her friend. “It’s for use in one-two combos, for example, a shield-shatter effect, followed immediately by one of your Void-Bolts.” “Oh, ouch.” Gwen made a face. “That’s a little lethal for my taste. Are there items made for Monster hunting?” The Magus chuckled, then opened the second box. “A Dungeon Earring,” he announced quickly. Gwen burst into snorting laughter at the 'pun-ishment’. Who’d thought the Magus was into fatherly humour? “Great for dungeoneering, I bet.” “Yes, indeed.” The Magus laughed. “These come in sets of five, a Master and four Slaves. The Master, when attuned to a Diviner, boosts the Diviner’s Message Range. When used by a non-Diviner, it generates a Message Relay at tier 1, with an effective range of twenty meters without LOS and up to two hundred meters with LOS. It allows free communication between the master and the slave units.” “VERY USEFUL!” Gwen picked up the scintillating, ruby-like Creature Core, mounted atop a sterling silver setting. “Indeed. Here-“ The Magister opened the third box. “A staple - A Ring of Mind Shielding, with Mind Lock, Resist Glamour and Resist Illusion. It will vastly improve your resistance to Mind Magic, Suggestion and external Glamour. Works against both human and non-human phenomena.” “I could use one of those.” Gwen pinned the tear-drop crystal against her ear. “Mia, how does it look?” “Beautiful.” Mayuree beamed. “It brings out your eyes.” “Aww, thanks.” Gwen gushed. Who’d knew having a family jeweller was so awesome? “And the big one.” The magus opened the final box. It was a necklace pendant with a thumb-sized opal. “Oh…” Gwen’s eyes sparkled. The stone was breathtakingly beautiful. “Crafted from the Core of an elder Foglet.” Maymaruya allowed the light to play through the stone, showing off every facet of its scintillating beauty. “A Ghosting Amulet - it's a contingency item. Should you suffer a catastrophic Shield Break or become injured, you will be Dimension Doored to a safe location. At the same time, if you are an Illusionist, it will further draw upon your Sigils to create two mirages per tier of illusory simulacrums who will ‘fight’ your opponents while you escape to safety.” “WOW!” What else could Gwen say other than being awed? She was a simple country girl. The Ghost Amulet was the Mercedes S-Class of Magic Items. “The rarity of Foglet Cores aside, that one consists of Maymaruya’s blood and tears. Took him close to three months to craft,” Mayuree added. “Also, it’s mine…” “Oh?” “He asked for to to be used as a sample.” “Ah~.” Gwen returned it to Mayuree awkwardly. The Magus as well, seem embarrassed. “Those cores you brought can be used to make the Earrings, the Lamassu Ring, and the Mind Shield. If you want an Amulet, we’ll have to barter for one from the Eastern European Foglands.” Gwen ruminated her options. The Shatter-shield ring was useful, but she could manage without it. The dungeon-earrings were very useful, but she had so far managed without them. The Mind Shield was a godsend. She never wanted to be Dominated or have her mind invaded again, ever, by anyone. As for the Ghosting Amulet, Gwen felt very much tempted. In addition to her Contingency Ring, it could serve as another buffer. If her ill-gotten wealth can save her from expending Gunther’s Ring, it could be well worth it. “I want the Mind-Shield and the Ghosting Amulet,” Gwen declared. “Would you accept two tier 3 Draconic-deer cores for the Mind-Shield? As for the Ghosting Amulet, I knew you were going to want one, so how about a one to one trade with the Earthen Core from the young drake?” “Sure?” Gwen did a few quick calculations in her head. She was trading away about 30,000 HDMs worth of Cores for a 'rare' and a 'near unique' magical item that could save her life. Money was a priority - but one had to be alive to spend it! She was also glad that Lulan wasn’t here to witness her spendthrift. The price of these rarified items alone would drive the girl into a berserker frenzy. “Deal.” Mayuree struck out a palm. Gwen offered her companion a low-five, then the two shook on the deal. “I'll leave the rest up to you,” Gwen suggested. “Sell it or make items with it. I'll trust your best judgement.” “The two draconic-carp cores should sell well,” Mayuree noted with a smile. “If you need currency. Deductions will be taken from your account with the House of M, where all your future proceeds will be deposited.” “Future proceeds, huh?” Gwen mused. "Am I a part of your elite Clientelle yet? Do I get a black card?" “Of course!” Mayuree hugged her friend by the waist. “As someone in our 20,000 HDM Club, you’re now a VIP! What's a black card?” It was now Gwen who tilted her head. “The House of M has spending strata for clients but no executive service branch?” “Well, not formally.” Mayuree laughed. “We can do front-row seating at auctions, priority bidding and all that, as well as offer advice on items and ingredients. What else do you want?” Gwen blinked. She knew that this world’s financial practices were well repressed. The methods of her old world had yet to penetrate the virginal econonics of Shanghai. To Gwen, it was the symptom of a market where inter-continential economic imperialism never quite took hold. There was no stock market for her to navigate per se, but surely she could make a few dollars elsewhere, such as HR and Business Structuring. “Mayuree, I wouldn’t normally ask this. But how big is your organisation? What’s your turnover? Do you have lots of clients who break 10,000, 50,000 and 100,000 HDM strata?” Mayuree turned to regard Maymaruya. “I cannot provide an exact figure, Miss Song.” The Magus cleared his throat. “Our clearance from our auction division alone is almost a quarter of a million HDMs, last financial quarter.” “Who are your largest competitors?” “That would be the Hong Kong Shanghai British Corporation, the Dai Nippon Trade Consortium, and the state-sponsored Shanghai Wildland Auction Commission.” “Is there a… Citibank? American Express?” “The Americans do not operate within our sphere,” the Magus replied. “Too far, not to mention they have their hands full. Last I heard, the Mayans of Chichen Itza are not taking the American's Southern expeditions lying down.” Oh yes, of course, Gwen reminded herself. Thanks to limited communication and the fragmentation of human city-states by Frontier zones, globalised banking had been stunted. The lack of a Cold War, deferred by the common threat of Magical Beasts, prevented a global dissemination of Social Democracy, Laissez-faire Capitalism and Communism. Had the Tower System not been established, there would have been no coalition of humanity. Gingerly, Gwen stood from her chair, pried Mayuree from her waist, then squared her shoulders. Her expression grew severe and serious. “Is the House of M looking for a Business Consultant, by any chance?” Mayuree and Maymaruya looked upon Gwen as though she had suddenly gone off the deep end. “Don’t answer yet. Just give me five minutes. Promise me that whatever I tell you won’t leave this room - and if you choose to take on my advice, I would like a stipend, assuming my proposal is successful, which I am confident it will be.” “Okay, sure.” Mayuree gazed upon her friend with as much perplexion as admiration. More often than not, Gwen said the strangest things. But then again, anyone who liked Gwen's company would soon grow accustomed to her 'Gwenisms'. “Miss Song. I am listening.” Maymaruya played along out of curiosity if nothing else. “Thank you.” Gwen took a deep breath. She channelled a little Draconic Essence into her presence. Her two captive audience members inclined backwards as though Gwen had suddenly grown in stature. Then she began, her voice commanding and assured. The young woman in the navy blue dress moved with such conviction that Mayuree and her Enchanter felt compelled to listen. “Mia, Magus Maymaurya. I want you to imagine yourselves attending an auction organised by the House of M. It’s 7 PM on a Saturday, and we're deep inside the historic Waldorf Astoria. Tonight is going to be an amazing night. Rumour has it that there are Draconic-cores for sale." "The rich and the famous are gathered to see who’s who and what they’re willing to pay. They turn to see you, a vaguely familiar face. You know of them, and they know of you. For now, you're just one of the many faces here.” “…” “…” “That is - until you reach into your breast pocket. Slowly, meticulously, without excessive endearment, you produce an I.D card, it's 'invite only' and made from anodised Orichalcum, darker than black, so dark that it sucks in all light. A single imprint, briefly visible, displays your personal Glyph.” Mayuree and Maymaruya regarded one another. Gwen opened her hands, as though unleashing an unholy power. "But that's okay, because after tonight, everyone will know your name - and the fact that you're a rare member of the Centurion Club."

It was 8 PM before Magus Maymaruya left the apartment with a ring chocked full of loose notes and a data-slate pregnant with the future of the House of M’s Centurion Customer Service Division. “Oof- I'm going to sleep.” Mayuree yawned. “I can’t believe the two of you went at it for six hours!” “Well, when you’ve got the working bug, time just flies!” Gwen chuckled. She was still flushed with vigour, the complexion of her face pink with excitement. Her eyes were swollen, her lips were cracked, and her throat was parched, but watching Maymaruya falling over himself had been orgasmic. How long had it been since she had a ‘sit’ with a client? For the better half of the day, it had felt as though she was back in the old world. “How do you even know this stuff?” her friend queried. The 'stuff' had given Mayuree a headache. Silver, Gold, Jadeite, Mithril and Centurion-Orichalcum membership. Annual Fees. Minimum Spending. Cash flow Period. Privileged Point-Exchange programs. Personal Assistants. Reserved Travel at ISTC Stations. Priority reservation of rare ingredients. Words stranger than eldritch Magic kept pouring from Gwen's lips. "The more they spend with the House of M, the more selective the reward. Trust me when I say that it's not the value of the service or the money they save that will distinguish the House of M's branding. It's the fact that you care. To you, the client is a valued family member. To make their life infinitesimally easier is the existential creed of the Centurion Executive Service." Maymaurya had nodded like an acolyte at his first meeting with a Magister. “Why do I know? My family grew up poor,” Gwen confessed, hugging Mayuree close to her chest conspiratorially. “You see, I promised myself once when I was young…” She stretched out her right arm in a grand gesture toward the magnificent view of Fudan below. “As God is my witness - I'll never be hungry again!” “Aww.” Mayuree slipped from Gwen’s overstimulated intimacy. Gwen's draconically-imbued embrace possessed a crushing, suffocating grip. “Poor you. Well, I am glad Maymaruya liked your ideas.” “I am up for salary negotiations anytime.” Gwen grinned. “Ha!” Mayuree chuckled. “What makes you so confident it’ll work.” “Oh, you’ll see.” Gwen left her companion lounging on the sofa. “Alright, I better head down as well. It’s going to take a few months, but keep me updated on the Cores! And the CCS Division proposal! Likewise, I’ll let you know if I need a currency-advance.” Mayuree laughed heartily. “Say, where’s Kitty? Or Marong?” Gwen looked around, begging the question that had been on the tip of her tongue. “Brother’s still got problems back home - well, in Yangon, since now you know. We’ve got constant problems with border disputes, poachers, and the occasional Rogue Mage out in the Orange Zone. Kitty's away questing; she’ll be back in a few weeks.” “I see, here’s hoping they’re both safe, eh? I better go. Petra’s feeling lonely, I’ll bet.” “Good night Gwen.” “Ciao!” Gwen reappeared a few seconds later. “Mia, can you give me a doggy bag of the leftovers?” By 4 AM, Gwen still couldn’t sleep. Wide awake from the excitement of having her new items made and having her proposal heard, she slinked into the living room to call Elvia. “BEEEEEP-Bo-kEEEE…” Elvia's Dorm Matron answered the LR Communication Device. After a quick exchange, the kind woman relayed the Message. Five minutes later, Elvia appeared standing before Gwen in a nightdress. “OH MY GOD!” Gwen gushed, her eyes bulging. “LACED VICTORIAN NIGHTIE!” Gwen was of course, on Silent, but still, she managed to kick up a fuss. Quickly, she calmed herself. Earlier, she had told Petra all about her arrangement with the Magus, repeating herself until her cousin escaped into her bedroom to sleep off the Gwenism induced headache. Elvia twirled. “Hi, Gwen! Do you like it? It's from Bluebirds!” “Ernngh~ I love it! So lacey!” “Hahaha, so, what’s happening?” “Oh, TONS of things. Things you cannot begin to imagine. Do we have privacy?” “Yep, but let me switch to Silent.” Elvia returned a few seconds later. Her angelic little Evee had grown her hair out, falling about her slim shoulders like a golden waterfall. Elvia must have made good progress in her Biomancy, Gwen remarked. Her erstwhile companion appeared younger, despite being nine months older. Whatever they were feeding the girl, the Nightingale School had done Elvia right. “Wow, I haven’t talked to you in a month! How’re your funds? I've recently acquired a windfall." “Me too! I worked tons!” Elvia pouted. “Five days a week, and I am volunteering as well.” “That’s wonderful! How’s work at Ormond Street?” “It’s going well.” Elvia’s voice took on an ambivalent hollowness. It was something she did whenever she either tried to mask her discomfort with a white-lie or tried to avoid a particular topic of conversation. “Evee.” Gwen leaned in. “You can tell me. If you do, I’ll show you Ariel’s super adorable new form.” Elvia stared at Gwen critically. Gwen shirked back, wounded. Had Elvia grown up!? Was she immune to Ariel’s charms? “Okay…” Elvia moped. Gwen mentally punched the air. As it turned out, Elvia had been bullied. Gwen’s mood grew increasingly more dangerous as her friend’s account continued. The basic gist of it was that Elvia was interning at the Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children when they received a young Mage from a prominent family who had been severely burned, suffering both internal and external injuries. Elvia’s mentor, Lady Astor, was assigned to the case, and things had initially gone as well as expected. A day later, Elvia had the night shift. She attended to the young man, struck up a conversation, and even convinced him to take a sponge bath to discard the peeling, old skin that had fallen off after the treatment. HOWEVER, Elvia’s popularity at GOS, especially pertaining to Lady Astor's intimate interest, had also brought ire and envy. A few of the younger nurses and even one of the ward's physicians accused Elvia of inappropriate behaviour with Lord Allen of Liverpool, attempting to ‘social climb’. Lady Astor was alerted when Elvia's accusers cornered the blonde healer in the staff’s break room, at which point Elvia had become hysterical. The no-nonsense Director stood her ground and informed Elvia’s accusers that they had five seconds to confess the truth and retain their jobs with a pay cut - or hold their peace. One of the nurses cracked, while the others held their ground. “Elvia, will you subject yourself to a Truth Geas?” Of course, there was no need for such a ruse. Lady Astor's word was law, not to mention one of the nurses had snitched on her co-conspirators as soon as Elvia agreed. Her accusers were caught out, and even the young Lord Allen put in his two cents. The nurses lost their positions, and the young physician disappeared from GOS. After that, Elvia had thought her troubles over, but not so. Three weeks later, she ‘screwed up’ the medication for another patient. When she adamantly refused to confess that she had made a mistake, Lady Astor again stood up for Elvia. At the Lady’s behest, yet another investigation took place. She called in the hospital’s Master of Medicine, who testified in Elvia’s favour. This revelation then led the staff to suspect malicious action or even assassination, even though the ‘victim’ was a young girl from a regular Mage household. In the end, Scotland Yard arrived. Their swift deployment of Forensic Diviners revealed that one of the staff had ‘accidentally’ taken Elvia’s cart and had been too afraid to fess up once Lady Astor was involved. Another public firing later, the junior staff had a new name for Elvia - The Trouble Maker. Of course, it wasn’t Elvia’s fault. Though grievous mistakes rarely happened at GOS Children’s Hospital, the culture was to let bygones be bygones. Conversely, Lady Astor had torn a scabby gauze from a bloody wound, revealing to the world that even the best support staff at the best medical institution were only human in their pettiness. “I’ll come over there and fucken rip em a new one!” Gwen shouted at the Projection Crystal. “How do I get to London? Caliban’s got a brand new form and it sure as fuck can do with some Christmas baubles! Ever since that wyvern, it's got a real hankering for assholes, let me tell ya...” Gwen’s vitriolic passion made Elvia reel with fright. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. “No! Stay in Shanghai!” The petite blonde girl shook her head and waved her hands. “I’ve got it sorted; it’s no big deal!” “You can’t take this shit lying down!” Gwen fumed, the amber of her eyes glowing with Draconic-presence. “I am calling Alesia! She’ll send that guy, what’s his name again? Dominic Lorenzo? He’ll take care of it!” “But it’s taken care of,” Elvia pleaded with her. “I don’t want more trouble, please, Gwen?” Gwen growled, her frustration low and rumbling. A continent away, Elvia visibly shivered. “Show me Ariel!” Elvia attempted to change the subject. “Kiki! Look! It’s aunty Gwen!” “Sister Gwen!” Gwen snapped. “Sister Gwen,” Elvia corrected herself. For whatever reason, Gwen always felt much older. “Kiii? Kii-kiii!” A bauble-head appeared. Gwen felt her ire drain away. Kiki had grown since she’d last seen it. Where the creature was a little weed-like seedling a few months ago, it was now evidently humanoid, with well-formed limbs and a bulbous head like a large chestnut. Its hair, like Sufina’s, was a tangle of trellises filled with little white flowers. “WOW,” Gwen spluttered. “Put it closer! Ariel!” She likewise presented her pseudo-Kirin. “OH MY GOD!” Elvia gasped. “Ariel’s got horns!” The two girls gushed over their mutual Show and Tell. Caliban made the rounds as well, but there was no way Gwen could show Elvia its Stag-form. "Kikiki!" Kiki put a little dance routine. Unlike Gwen’s Conjured Familiars, Elvia’s Spirit existed not as a part of a complex spell, but as a part of an agreement between Dryad and Mage. Even empowered, Kiki merely looked a little larger, growing from a bauble-headed doll to that of a somewhat better proportioned Barbie. In so far as Dryads went, Kiki had a long way before it could even begin to mimic Sufina’s grandeur. Gwen’s Familiars, however, had their full complement of forms: from docile marten-plushy to its pseudo-Kirin guise, to its full-fledged draconic-chimaera likeness. "Wow!" Elvia marvelled. "That may not even be Ariel’s final form!" After the exchange, Gwen told her own story: her father, Hangzhou, Uncle Jun, and Percy, omitting only what was necessary; bound by the No.1 and No.2 rules of the Per-secrecy club. “I am so sorry.” Elvia fought back her tears of sympathy. “Mr Song is a terrible man.” “I feel sorry for their new kid.” Gwen sighed. “But making up with Percy was pretty good.” “I spoke to Yue last week!” Feeling self-conscious, Elvia changed the subject again. “She’s up in Queensland at the moment.” “Covered in fish-guts and lizard spawn, I’ll bet.” Gwen chuckled. “Yeah, she and Paul and Taj and Jonas. BIlly is there too; you remember Billy?” Gwen recalled the stuttering Diviner. It was cute that he was the youngest of the original group, fresh out of university and already assigned to Alesia. That had to be a nightmare. “They got a whole party going!” “I know, right? Alesia is staying and helping Gunther with his work in Sydney now, so Yue’s inherited her old Adventuring party. She says she’s getting a promotion at the end of the year as well.” “Oh?” “She’s going to be Warrant Officer Class 2.” “We’ll have to salute her the next time we see her then.” Gwen made a mock salute with her hand, which was returned by Elvia. Seeing their Masters performing the salute, Kiki and Ariel did the same; Caliban had no arms and so could only wistfully watch. By now it was almost 6 AM. Gwen was finally feeling the desire to sleep. She technically had nothing planned for the day, though there was arguably a lot on her plate. There were new Hound spells she had to learn, inscriptions to copy and incantations to practice. Then there was the matter of her end of semester marks which had been given out in her absence. “Alright, Evee, it was lovely talking to you.” “Likewise, Gwennie. We’ll catch up later. What are your plans for Christmas and New Years?” “Honestly?” Gwen bit her lips. “I have no idea. Maybe something with the family? I don’t know if they celebrate Xmas here in China. As for New Years, maybe a dinner or something.” “Okay! For Xmas, I’ll be volunteering with Emily, our Student Council President, and Sylvie, my roommate, at the refugee shelters. Lady Astor has invited me to a ball on New Years, Emily and Sylvie are going as well, so don't worry. Emily will be attended to by her Knight; it's all perfectly safe.” “That’s alright.” Gwen gave Elvia a phantom hug. “We’ll talk beforehand anyway. I want to see Lumen-pics! Don’t pick your dress without showing me first!” “Hahaha, alright.” After a few more XXes and OOes, Elvia hung up. Gwen closed her eyes to rest for a moment. And woke up with Petra standing over her. “Oh God, you gave me a fright!” Gwen spluttered. Petra’s husky-blue orbs had a predatory quality, particularly when she was upset or unhappy. “I know you can’t catch the Flu.” Her cousin tsked disapprovingly. “But that doesn’t mean you sit out here comatose with your buttocks in the cold.” “I had insomnia,” Gwen confessed, tucking her legs under said buttocks. “So I talked to Elvia for a bit.” “Go back to bed,” Petra advised. “When did you sleep? I heard commotions at like 5 AM.” “Sorry,” Gwen apologised. “Off you go then.” Petra pulled her from the couch. Heeding her cousin’s advice, Gwen went back to bed. ‘Ding!’ ‘DING!’ ‘Ding!’ ‘DING!’ Gwen shot awake. She pawed the bedsheets for her Device. “Yes? Gwen here?” "EEE!" In her haste, she had kicked Ariel. "Shit! Sorry," Gwen murmured. "SHAAA!" "Arrgh! You drooled on me! Sleep in your own bed!" “Gwen!” A stranger’s voice came across the Message. “It's me, the Dean. Can you see me in my office this afternoon?” “Yesssser.” Gwen attempted to make herself as alert as possible, but her sleep-deprived tongue refused to cooperate. “Young lady - it’s 11 AM.” “Yer ser!” The Dean sighed. “… Your appointment is at 1300. I know you’re young - but have some discretion. Remember, always use protection, and go see the Medical Mages if you have to.” “Sir?” The Message clicked shut. FUUUUU~ Gwen kicked herself. After five minutes of self-loathing, she forcibly circulated her Draconic-essence until the desire to go back to bed was kept at bay. “Alright! I am up!” Gwen slapped her cheeks. She struggled out of her beckoning silk sheets, throwing on a blue silk buttonless-blouse from Hangzhou and a four-button high-waisted pencil skirt. She brushed out her hair, cleaned up her face, then stepped back into the Hermès. Along the way, she picked up two Taiwanese crepes from a local vendor for brunch, as well as a taro milk tea. At ten to one, Gwen arrived at the Dean’s Office, once again marvelling at the intricate beauty of the Zibinyuan, the sole colonial building in Fudan’s old Handan campus to have escaped the Purge unscathed. “Ellen?” Dean Luo Jiang’s ‘secretary’ met her at the door. The Air Sprite wore a business getup, or more accurately, she was garbed by Luo’s Illusion in a bell-skirt and a frilly avocado blouse. The garb wasn’t very creative, but it suited the pale-faced Spirit. From afar, Ellen perfectly resembled a regular human female. Curiously, Gwen wondered if Luo had a specific spell for attiring his Spirit Familiar. “Gwen! Come in!” The Dean's voice summoned her. Gwen noticed Ellen hadn’t greeted her. The Sprite was keeping her distance, looking wary and apprehensive. Given more time, Gwen would have tempted Ellen with a mote of her emerald essence, though now she had to wait before ensnaring the Dean’s Familiar. Inside the office, the Dean sat at his table, inundated by paperwork as usual. “Sit! Sit!” a voice called out from behind the pile. “No wait, I’ll come out.” The friendly face of the middle-aged Dean appeared from behind the table. His eyes swept over her new attire. “Hmm.” The Dean’s expression took on a contemplative mood. “Lovely shoes.” “Thank you, Sir.” Gwen curtseyed. "I can dress Ellen for you if you like." “... I spoke to the Secretary-General this morning." Luo cut to the chase, coughing to hide his awkwardness. “As well as Magister Wen.” Gwen stiffened, her remaining fatigue dispelled by a sudden surge of adrenaline. After a dignified recovery, she gave the Dean a bright and dazzling smile, flashing the man with her pearly whites. “Draconic-essence, huh?” The Dean walked a circuit about her person. “Ellen- the door.” The door shut of its own accord. “A demonstration, if you could? My room is heavily warded.” “Of course, Sir.” Gwen understood that this was a chance to appeal to the Dean directly. If she could receive a personal commendation from the man, her position in the IICU team was well-assured. Compared to what she stood to gain, the indignity of putting on an Ariel and Caliban show was of little importance. "Ariel!" First came Ariel’s many forms. "Caliban!" Then it was Caliban's turn. The Dean was suitably impressed and commended her on her supernatural growth. Ellen as well was supremely delighted with Ariel’s Kirin form. Gwen supposed that it was because of their mutual affinity for Air, which induced a certain sense of kinship. As for Caliban, the Sprite kept her distance. “Caliban’s got a new form-factor, Sir,” Gwen explained. “It’ll cost a significant volume of vitality, however. Additionally, Caliban's new combat form may prove to be extremely taxing on the er… psyche.” “You've piqued my curiosity, good girl!" Luo chuckled. "Are you suitably provisioned to demonstrate the creature’s prowess? Shall I call for Magus Kumiko?” “I should be, Sir. Though I would propose we push Caliban’s feeding schedule from Saturday to later today or maybe tomorrow.” “Of course.” The Dean straightened his vest. “Let’s see it.” “Please step back, Sir.” The Dean took half a step back. “Caliban!” Gwen commanded her Familiar. “Stag form!” A torrent of obsidian mana pumped into Caliban even as her creature tapped into its internal stores. Gwen's face paled, her veins filling with ice as Caliban took the bare-necessity of vitality required to trigger the transformation. "SHAAAAA!" Caliban's serpentine torso extended, its carapace ripped and torn. Pink and purple tendrils joined the sound of snapping bone and mangling flesh as Caliban polymorphed into its three-meter, X-rated visage. “Mao’s GHOST!” Dean Luo stumbled back, taken by the aura of vertigo and the inexplicable existential terror emanating from Gwen's Familiar. “Master! Watch out!” Ellen teleported right beside her Master and took up a defensive stance. Looking at her discarded pile of clothes, it would seem that only parts of her attire were illusory. Now in its elemental-form, Ellen reminded Gwen of Lea, a humanoid female silhouette filled with just enough condensed mana to manifest a physical body. “Gwen! What is this thing?!” “It’s Caliban,” Gwen pointed out. “It’s a roving mass of hunger!” Ellen pushed Luo backwards. “It desires only to consume!” “Yes,” Gwen nodded confidently. To her, that was indeed Caliban. “Void’s got a bit of Air in it, right? Caliban’s a good sort, think of it as Ariel, but hungrier.” “Abomination!” Ellen frowned, forming a wall of shimmering air between Caliban and her Master. “This thing should not be!” “You got that right.” Gwen admired her sweet old Caliban. It was a bloody terror alright. In its Stag-form, Cali was an absolute unit. “Ellen, it’s perfectly safe.” Dean Luo patted his Familiar’s shoulders. “Luo, this thing has taken the form of our Kin into itself!” “Ellen, stand down.” Luo’s voice was a gentle lull. “Gwen is in control - are you in control, Gwen?” “Caliban, sit!” Gwen ran through her routine. They were lucky that the Dean’s office was one of those generous Victorian studies and not, alas, Fudan’s modernised glass and concrete cubicles. Caliban carelessly swung its faceless mien to and fro, dangerously swinging its sixteen-pointers. Its needle-point front legs dug into the floor, cracking the herringbone inlay. Then, as promised, it sat. “Shaaa!” The smooth facial carapace emitted a muffled cry more akin to a strangled babe than any sound that should exist in the material realm. “Hand!” Caliban raised a meter-long length of limb-cum-lance. Gwen took the ‘hoof’ by the ankle, where the girth was just right for her hand to envelop. The chitin was smooth obsidian, seamless and polished, as though machined into existence by some old, tenebrous power with an eye for minimalism. “Excellent, Miss Song.” Dean Lou dismissed his Familiar, commanding her to stand down. “Have you tested Caliban in combat?” “Not yet, Sir.” “I see. I would do so at the first opportunity.” The Dean took a step forward, then placed his hand against Caliban’s face. Gwen took in a nervous breath, hoping that unlike Carp-liban, Stag-liban didn’t secrete Void-ooze. “Sir…” Gwen began. “I would have thought the carapace oily, or at least wet,” the Dean replied, his voice filled with profound wonder and genuine interest. “It's dry! A little cold to the touch, but quite pleasant. I am touched, young lady. Quite touched!” “Yessir. Cali's a cutie, Sir.” Gwen breathed out. Ellen moved closer, her ethereal form flickering in and out of vision. The Sprite likewise reached out with her arm. Caliban turned to regard the Air Sprite. Gwen felt a surge of excitement and interest passing through her empathic link. Oh shit! Gwen suppressed Caliban’s curiosity, but it was too late. As Ellen placed one hand on Caliban’s faceless head, one of its sixteen horns lost its rigid form and attempted to give Ellen a lick with its pink, barbed tentacle tongue, tipped with a lamprey’s maw. Ellen froze as an arm-thick rosy tentacle slapped her wetly across the forehead. Dean Lou froze, evidently stricken by the torrent of emotions ravaging his Empathic Link. Ellen’s lips parted. “AEEEEEEEEeeeeeeEAAAA!" A Sonic Blast issued forth from a Master Conjurer’s mid-tier Spirit enveloped the Dean’s chamber.

Dean Luo unsummoned his Familiar the moment his paperwork began to disintegrate. There was a brief exhilaration in seeing his workload disappear before Luo realised that requesting the faculty to re-submit their proposals was a far bigger hassle. He looked over to see how Fudan’s prized Void Mage was handling Ellen's Aural Vortex, finding Gwen sheltered behind a double-glazed Mana Shield. It was no surprise to Luo that the girl was in possession of such a unique Abjuration; knowing her history, he would have been disappointed had the Morning Star not endowed the girl with his Signature Shield. Overlooking the two Mages each nestled in their barriers, Gwen’s Stag-monster placidly loomed. It had lost a layer of its chitinous exoskeleton to the sonic blast, though its expressionless head showed no acknowledgement of being flayed. Of greater interest to Luo, was the fact that the Stag had shielded Gwen with half of its body, forming a make-shift barrier with its protruding tendrils, one of which had broken off, obliterated by Ellen’s innate ability. “Are you alright, Gwen?” the Dean enquired. It was his duty, after all, to ensure that the students were safe. “Yessir.” Gwen brushed off a few motes of plaster. The office was in ruins. Gwen pondered if there was a ‘Reparo!’ Charm the Dean could use. “CAO!” Dean Luo approached his obliterated alcohol cabinet. “My four-decade single-malt! ELLEEEEEN?!” “I am terribly sorry, Sir.” Gwen shared the heart-rending suffering of the Dean; she could smell the sickly sweet scent half a room away. “It’s not your fault, Gwen.” Luo held a shard of shattered crystal in his hand, his face a mask of devastation. “I wasn’t ready for Caliban’s prehensile friendliness either. It was probably too much to expect Ellen, whose instinct was fight or flight, to rationally assess both context and circumstance. Let that be a lesson! Many young Mages freshly endowed with Spirits think that the IFF is universal, but it is correlated with the Spirit's innate erudition.” Gwen stood awkwardly beside the Dean as he made an increasingly grim assessment of his historical office. The walls were warded, the windows shielded, but not so his collection of baubles and curio that he had put up for flavour. The Dean dug out a shredded manila folder. “I had your results here as well,” Luo lamented. "I was going to commend you on achieving your first H.D average. Well done, Miss Song." He handed her a pile of mangled paper. “…” Gwen expressionlessly received the tattered shreds in her hands. Stoically, she stowed them in her ring. "Thank you, Sir." The Dean beamed happily. “Thank you for coming in, Gwen. I eagerly await your participation in the 2004 IIUC in August.” Speaking of the IIUC, Gwen raised a hand. "Yes, Miss Song?" "How did the current group of students progress, Sir? There's been nothing in the Student Paper." The Dean's expression fell. "The field of competition is rather stiff, I am afraid," Luo lamented. "Fudan was knocked out in round 2. It happened while you were away. We've decided not to make too much of a fuss, you know, student morale and all that." "That's unfortunate, Sir." "Unfortunate is the right word," Luo continued. "They were up against the regional champions from last year, the team from Kyoto University. I am ashamed to say that Fudan lost fair and square. Outmatched, if you will. Nippon's Shikigami's nothing to scoff at; alas, we had a good crop this year, but..." Gwen felt the Dean's feverish gaze rest against her face. "... next year, with you - and I am hoping Mr Huang, a few talented third-years, and a roster of support Mages, there will be an underdog uprising." "Of course, Sir," Gwen extended a delicate white hand. "I am from Australia, where the underdog always wins." "That's what I'd like to hear!" The Dean laughed heartily. The two shook firmly, her draconic-essence turning Gwen's supple fingers into an iron vice. "Let me know if there's anything you need, or if anyone troubles you." The Dean flexed his tenderised hand contemplatively. “Thank you, Sir.” “Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Song." Gwen bowed, then exited the Dean's office. Already, there were several staff members gathered outside, wondering what had happened. “Is he injured?” One faculty member asked eagerly. “Maybe out of commission?” Gwen regarded the gathering of old men surrounding her with wonder. What she saw on their face wasn't worry, but expectation and vain hope. “No, the Dean is fine,” she informed them. “Oh.” “Bah!” “What a waste of time.” “That man's a cockroach.” The various Chairs and Heads of Fudan's faculties dispersed. Behind her, Dean Luo despairingly picked up the pieces. "Ellen." She heard him say to his re-summoned Familiar. "Tell the Chair of Abjuration and the Bursar that I need another copy of their reports on my desk by this afternoon..." Outside, Gwen was met by Magus Kumiko, who’d had also been summoned by the Dean on short notice. “Shall we?” The Magus was apparently in the middle of something before the Dean demanded her immediate presence. Her face was anything but willing. “I can wait,” Gwen offered. She could use a breather as well. Kumiko shook her head. “No need. It’s best we keep your health up.” She smiled graciously, though her eyes suggested otherwise. “Not to mention I want to see this Kirin of yours. Did you know that in my country, we worship them?” “Uh-huh… Yes, Grandfather. Percy will be safer than my personal portfolio. Yes, Lulan and Kusu will be joining us- No, of course, not…. What’s a portfolio? It's- Look, I’ll take a spell in the gut before he loses a single hair, haha… Alright. Thanks, Yeye - Cheers!” Gwen dismissed the Message. “OKAY!” She turned to her companions. “We’re good to go!” “Sweet.” Richard gave her a thumbs up. “Our Quest is not THAT safe, you know. We're going on an unmapped Dungeon crawl.” “Ah, he’ll be right.” Gwen chuckled. “Mina and Tao can’t make it, but Babs said she'd load up Petra with healing spells.” “So who’s coming?” Lulan butted in. “You, Me, Kusu, Richard, Petra, and your brother Percy? Is he cute?” "Very cute," Gwen joked. "He's a real Lady Kill...er... Uh-HGN!" Gwen cleared her throat awkwardly and took a sip of water. Petra rolled her eyes at her cousin's unintended slip. “I understand rearing the younger members of your House.” Kusu put his mind on the table. “What if he receives a mortal injury? Are you sure bringing an Acolyte is the best course of action?” “Bringing Percy is indeed the best course of action,” Richard interjected. “When Gwen has Percy with her, there’s a convergence of stars. Creatures will start dropping Cores more often than not.” “…” Kusu regarded Richard with scepticism. He knew Richard always gave Gwen what she wanted; endangering her brother and creating a hassle for the Adventuring Party was unlike the efficiency-obsessed workaholic. “That’s amazing.” Lulan’s ochre-amber eyes sparkled. “That makes no sense,” Kusu pointed out. “Well, you’ll have to trust me." Richard grinned at Kusu. "When have I ever disappointed." "..." Kusu conceded that thus far, Richard had been their saviour in more ways than Gwen, who had abandoned the siblings like a wealthy step-mother with endless social commitments. "Look, if we want to do this easy, there's not much to gain. The bounty is 500 HDMs, with 200 CCs shared amongst the members, with a bonus 2 CC for every monkey we eradicate. Assuming we kill say, two hundred Water-Ghosts and some big bugger at the end, that's 620 CCs, tops. That's a hundred odd CCs, but what about the HDMs? Even if Gwen doesn't need her share and Percy forfeits his, that's 125 among the four of us. Barely enough to pay for our training! What we need is a real source of income, and that's where the Cores come in..." “Jesus, we don’t have to stow the corpses, do we?” Gwen remarked. “I use my Storage Ring for food…” “We can use mine.” Lulan flashed her ring finger. “I got a Large one as well. Usually, I do the butchering in the party.” “They’re all yours.” Gwen grimaced, picturing Lulan hacking happily away at a mountain of corpses, giggling maniacally. The very idea that a hundred odd eyeballs, scalps, and other ‘materials’ could be kept together with her Spam and Shin-Ramen was abhorrent, not to mention she kept her outfits in the same pocket space! The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. “When do you want to go?” Gwen counted the days. Currently, it was Wednesday night. She could arguably squeeze out a ‘Hound Pack’ by Sunday. Ever since Gunther had told her that Ariel could lead the pack, she had been looking forward to it. “How about we leave Sunday, first thing?” Gwen suggested to the party. “Richard, you’ll be leading, right?” “I'd say so. I know the area, the people and the lay of the land,” Richard addressed her question with confidence. “Passenger trains are usually booked out well in advance though. We'll hitch a free ride on the express Cargo-trains heading that way with the NoM labourers.” “The NoMs don't mind?" Gwen asked. “I’d say the NoMs are far happier for it.” Richard chuckled. “Imagine getting ambushed by some critters in the countryside. Wouldn’t you want a team of crack Mages sitting next to you when that happens, rather than rely on the train's armoured engine to plough through blood and bone?” “Right, of course.” Gwen nodded sheepishly. “Sunday?” “Lulu? Kusu?” Richard turned to the others. “We’re fine.” “Pats?” “I should be alright for a few days. How long do you think?” “A few days sounds about right.” Richard cocked his head. “I’d say our itinerary is as follows: Get to Nantong. Get our passes stamped. Go to the site. Clear the lair over two days. Return with our ill-gotten gains. Be back by Wednesday evening. If anyone wants to check out the Nantong District, we can stay longer, but there’s not much to see. It's all construction at the moment.” “I’ll ask for Monday to Thursday off,” Petra concurred. “A sound plan, Richard.” “Gwen?” “I got nothing,” Gwen approved. “Give me three days to get Morden’s Hound and Hound-Pack running. I want to show you guys something extraordinary, haha.” “Ooo!” Lulan gushed. “How many dogs can you summon?” “No idea.” Gwen laughed. “We’ll see!” 2 AM. Gwen laid in bed, wide awake, thinking about dogs. Would her dogs look like basset hounds? Dachshunds? Or perhaps Rottweilers? In her old world childhood, she had a Maltese-Shitzu. But in the heart of hearts, she had always fancied something bigger and more huggable, like a Golden - or something incredibly handsome, like a Weimaraner. Bloodhounds are hunting dogs, Gwen theorised, they would probably be Weimaraner-like dogs with long, lithe limbs and powerful upper bodies. Other than field-testing her Hounds, the trip was an excellent opportunity to gauge her future spell list. In her mind, there were THREE scenarios a Combat Mage would face on the regular: The first was a Mage's primary vocation - the defence of Human life and property against Magical Creatures. A successful Mage must possess the means to contribute to the extinction of threats to human cities via fire and fury. She was, Gwen proudly confessed, rather good at this. The second was the expansion of Human-held territory: this involved clearing Dungeons, ones with actual Cores, as well as lairs, pseudo-Dungeons with powerful monsters. Arguably, Gwen had experience in both. What she had not undertaken was a Purge, Yue’s mainstay. The third was duels - A.K.A contests of ego. Though entirely futile and even counterproductive to the wellbeing of the Human Race, it was a necessary evil to attain prestige and power amongst Mage kind. Most Mages were specialised for one purpose or another. But she was unashamedly unique. Gwen felt narcissistic to the core, but there was no denying the truth. She had a solid if unimaginative defence. She was working on additional mobility. She had arguably absurd damage-per-spell. And soon, incredible AOE potential, thanks to Ariel’s IFF. AND she had stamina, both physically, mentally, and in the magical sense. In other words, she possessed the looks, the will and the way to assume the mantle of a particular protagonist, all she needed was Chris and Liam Hemsworth fighting over her disinterested affection, and invent a catchy whistling jingo. In her esteemed opinion, the best way forward was to have a baseline tactic, augmented by unilateral access to secondary Schools of Magic. Conjuration would form the basis of her Spellbook. Arguably, she was already a Creature Mage through and through. Ariel. Caliban. Warding Bolt. Call Lightning. Tentacles. Bloodhound. Hound Pack. Some spells, such as Warding Bolt and Tentacles could be doubled up. Call Lightning she didn’t dare, for the spell attacked her targets indiscriminately. The last thing she wanted was someone yelling out ‘I yield!’ - then taking a randomised Bolt to the face. Furthermore, with increased proficiency in Conjuration, she could also add Planar Ally to that number, bringing her concurrently active spells to eight, excluding her Familiars. Of course, spell fatigue was a thing, and only so many effects were dumb-fire or seeking, but milling an opposing Mage down to the stump as she had done with Golos was a solid strategy. For Monster Hunting, she would augment her Conjuration with Evocation AOEs and Divination such as Hunter’s Mark and True Strike. As for Abjuration, she would pick up Resistance and Mage Armour, then augment her abilities with Magical Items. There were single-use items such as Shielding Pebbles that expended themselves as reactive barriers. She could additionally invest in a suit of Combat-leather, something akin to what Golos had destroyed. If she could push Conjuration to such a point that Dimension Door was at-will and near-instantaneous, survival was guaranteed, especially considering her possession of Gunther’s ring. As for the rest, mastery was a matter of time. Additionally, perhaps as a side project, she wanted to hash out Illusion with Tao. Even if she had no intent to use Illusion in combat, she could likely manage a few of the Lesser Image spells to bring to life a few exciting and notable elements from her old world. Ideally, she would like to deliver a few killer TED Talks. Having mapped out her mind, Gwen welcomed the embrace of Hypnos. Thursday. Upper-campus Training Hall. “Miss Song!” A member of the administrative staff accosted Gwen before she could swipe into one of the student training rooms. “There is a Warded Staff Room reserved for your use." "Oh? Sure!" Gwen replied happily, not one to say no to privilege! The room had been left for her at the Dean’s behest. Now that Fudan was no longer catering to its disappointing 2003 team, the Dean was free to splurge on more hopeful ventures. It was probably the tentacle slap, Gwen supposed. Caliban's tentacle slap must have left a deep impression. Inside, Gwen marvelled at the spacious sanctum. It was one of the larger staff rooms, second only to the one Wen had employed. Furthermore, the room had an inbuild Cognisance Chamber which she could peruse at her leisure, drastically saving the time she would have spent on introspection and meditation. "Alright, let's do this!" The echo of Gwen's voice answered her. She retrieved the two scrolls from her Storage Ring, opening them side-by-side. The tier 5 Morden’s Bloodhound originally involving 48 Major and 33 Minor Incantations. After augmentation with her Master’s Signature Morden’s Hound, it now involved 72 Major Incantations and only 9 minor incantations, significantly pushing up the casting time. Furthermore, the somatic component involved drawing a glyph in the air, a segment taken from her Master’s variation. Observing herself in the reflection below, Gwen replicated the incantation, mouthing each movement to achieve a better understanding of the spell's somatic and verbal orientation. She ran the routine a dozen times, taking just over an hour. With practice and expertise, thirty seconds of continuous casting was needed to manifest Morden's Bloodhound. In a team battle, it was entirely viable. A 1v1 was much harder to say. Still, she was satisfied. How can a Creature Mage not be when watching an enormous Quasi-Draconic Deerhound sporting with Ariel? She inspected its superior physicality with a critical eye. The Deerhound portion she could understand. It stood to reason that a Scottish Arch-Mage who hunted Giant-kin would conjure the most iconic quasi-magical canine of his homeland as his 'Bloodhound'. As for Gwen, her 'creature' was abstractly dog-like. A casual observer would happily note from afar that indeed, this was a Deerhound - until the creature came closer, at which point they would freak. Curious enquiries would beg uncomfortable answers. Why does your dog have a lizard tail? What's with the crested, scaly brow? Where did its tapered cobra snout come from? How did you get a bitch to mate with a Draconic-beast without it being eaten? With supernatural grace, her Draconic-Deerhound landed on all fours. It possessed a noble mien, handsome like an old-timer gent, sporting a spindly coat of white-fur tinged with mottled cobalt highlights. Its ears, strangely, were pointed backwards, resembling twin-horns, twitching back and forth as it listened for her command. The Deerhound's form was sleek like that of a greyhound but heavily muscled in the chest and legs. As with Ariel, it had a white mane running the length of its spine, though ending with a whippet’s tail, barbed with carapace. And it was huge, standing on its hind legs, the Deerhound was taller than Gwen. She had pondered giving the dog and all her subsequent conjurations names until she unsummoned the creature, then practised summoning it again. When Morden's Bloodhound re-emerged, it wasn't the same. It was stockier the second time and sans brow ridges. “Buck?” That's what she had called the last one. The dog came to her, but without evidence of self-awareness. Alas, the Deerhounds were neither summoned beings nor manifestations of her animus. They were temporary elemental phenomena coaxed into existence. “Eeee!” Ariel commanded the creature at Gwen’s behest, relaying her mental commands. It sat. It rolled. It could offer its hand, and Gwen could safely rest her hand between its jaws. The Deerhound was wholly obedient and happily self-destructive if need be. “Guess I’ll be calling you guys by the number,” she remarked with disappointment, having imagined herself at the head of a pack of sled dogs. She had hoped to christen them with names like Buck and Old Jack and Silver and White Fang. Bummed by reality, Gwen took a break for lunch. Outside, she was joined by an old familiar face: Instructor Chen Hufei, the senior Magma Mage with a Salamander Spirit. “Sir!” Gwen bowed her head, showing respect and meaning it. Master Chen had taught her everything she knew about keeping her creatures safely out and about in public. “What’s this I hear about a Kirin?” Chen folded his arms. “You went to Huangshan, didn't you?” “I am not at liberty to say,” Gwen addressed the old veteran’s blunt enquiry evasively. She respected her cynical Instructor, but the buck stopped at anything relating to her family's secrets. “I can show you Ariel's new form though. First of all, it's not a Kirin…” “A pseudo-Kirin.” Chen grunted. “Meaning Draconic Essence. What did you and the Ash Bringer kill? You're not going to bring Hangzhou trouble, are you?” “No, Sir," Gwen answered defensively. "You knew I was with Uncle Jun?” Chen grumbled annoyedly. “Dean called me in this morning. Told me to check up on you, so here I am,” her Instructor explained. “As for the Ash Bringer, we’ve met a few times on the Front, before I retired from combat tours. Can I see your Familiar then? Is now a good time?” “Of course, Sir.” Gwen smiled sweetly. “I could indeed use some advice with a few of my new Creature spells.” The stoic Chen nodded, making for the door. “I have a Staff Room booked.” Gwen directed him to the right. “Luo’s giving it his all, eh?” Chen scoffed. “You better not disappoint come August.” Gwen informed her Instructor that he would be well-satisfied. The two of them re-entered the private sanctum. “Alright, show me what you’ve got.” Gwen brought out Ariel and introduced her new Kirin-Marten’s forms. “Fascinating.” Chen ran a hand through Ariel’s undercoat. Unexpectedly, Ariel began to purr thunderously, emitting the loudest, most heart-melting thrum imaginable. “Ha, still got it.” Chen parted Ariel’s spiky mane and pointed to a protruding nub of flesh. “Flying Draconids tend to have a ‘reverse’ ridge where their shoulders and wings meet. Your pseudo-Kirin’s got Winged Dragon-essence, from the looks of it. I take it you and the Captain took down one of the Yinglong’s spawn and got lucky with the Core?” “Something like that,” Gwen confessed. “I thought most Familiars couldn’t consume Cores to evolve themselves, Sir.” “You’re running a Signature Conjuration by Henry Kilroy.” Chen shrugged. “And no. You can't. Don't ask me though. I am just an old soldier. I can tell you where Ariel likes a scratch, but I can’t tell you why it can eat Dragon Cores.” Gwen gave Ariel’s hidden ‘nub’ a little pat as well, eliciting a chest-rumbling purr from her marten. “I am also working on this new spell, Sir.” Gwen showed Chen her scroll for Morden’s Bloodhound. “Mao’s tomb! You’ve bought the augmented variation already?” Chen regarded her with disbelief. “Damned thing cost me 94 CCs just the other week!” So Chen was one of the many Mages who contributed to her CC-pool. Gwen felt guilty that she was doubly benefiting from the Instructor. “I’ve got the Hound Pack as well, Sir.” If Chen had been toking on a cigarette, he would probably be having a coughing fit. “The two of them together would be 240 CCs,” the Creature Mage remarked. Like the Dean, her Instructor paced around Gwen, inspecting her for wounds or some other signs of doubtful competence, even a torn sleeve or a mote of dust on her shoes would do. Finding none, he scratched his head. “You’ve done how many quests?” “Ahahaha…” Gwen laughed cringingly. “None… Sir…” Her Instructor's inquisitive mien fell away, revealing the gruff old sergeant who loathed young Missus and Masters. From the look in Chen’s eyes, his opinion of her as a hard-working, down to earth straggler from the Frontier was curdling like sour milk. “So, what’d you want to know.” Chen’s raspy voice grew annoyed and impatient. The old soldier was anything but brutally honest. "I got places to be." Gwen wondered if it was worth explaining herself. “I would like to know…” Gwen tried to think of a better way to phrase her enquiry as to not appear to humble-brag. “What I should do after I’ve summoned a pack of Draconic Deerhounds… Ariel’s a Spirit now so it can command them via telepathy…” “D-Draconic Deerhounds?!” Chen's bark made her flinch. "Ariel's a SPIRIT?" “You found a draconic SPIRIT core?" "What did you kill on Huangshan? What tier?" "Is Hangzhou on fire? Did they censor the news?" If expressions could kill, Gwen swallowed nervously, Chen would have triggered her Contingency Ring.

Gwen quickly explained that not only was everything 'cool', but the matter also had been blessed by the highest echelons of the Party. “You expect me to believe that a girl of eighteen…” “Seventeen, Sir-” Chen glared at Gwen, who bit her tongue. “…seventeen - possessing TWO unique Familiars convoked via a Signature Familiar Conjuration, now imbued with a Draconic Spirit, met face to face with the Secretary-General of the CCDI - is a nobody from that vast and empty final Frontier?” “You forgot tier 6 Lightning, Sir.” Gwen went for broke. At this point, she may as well buckle up and break-in Chen entirely. Chen pinched the bridge of his brow while breathing dejectedly. “Fine, show me.” “I haven’t succeeded manifesting Morden’s Hound Pack yet, Sir,” Gwen confessed. “Can you teach me?” Chen glanced at the exit, then back at Gwen's sweetly smiling face. “Are you using the augmented variant?” the old soldier relented. “Yessir.” “Operator!” Chen Messaged the front desk. “Cognisance overlay, Instruction Mode, charge the crystals to the Dean’s account.” The floors thrummed as the inbuilt Cognisance Chamber activated. “Observe.” With meticulous care, Chen ran through the necessary verbal and somatic components. First, her Instructor drew the glyph in the air, leaving behind a sulphur scented imprint akin to a light drawing. Then came the Major incantations, shaping the nascent Magma Mana coursing through his conduits. A steady flow of red-hot arcane-energy filled the glyph. “Hound Pack!” Chen finished off with the minor incantations in a flurry, concluding with a flourish. The entire process took just over two minutes. A magma-hound slipped into existence, a little smaller than Gwen’s Deerhound, less defined and far more abstract. It was more exact to say that rather than any specific breed, Chen’s animal was a ‘dog-like’ elemental. Then another. And another. Until nine of the hounds were lined up, one after the other, smouldering gently as their Magma-enriched skin sizzled the air, filling the limited space of the practice room with eye-watering sulphur. “Gust!” A low-level Evocation ensured both student and Instructor would avoid asphyxiation by monoxide. “Sir,” Gwen pointed out. “Your dogs, they’re a little different from mine.” “That's because I am not a Transmuter.” Chen ordered the dogs to form into two rows. “Conjured creatures are altered by a Mage's affinity with other Schools of magic, your elemental affinity, and any other factors that may influence your Astral Body.” Gwen thought of her Abjuration, her Transmutation and her other Sigils - there was also the fact that her Astral body had three ‘elements’: Lightning, Void, and her Almudj’s Essence. “Transmutation gives definition and flexibility in form,” Chen continued. “Abjuration gives greater toughness and resistance. Evocation boosts your creature’s elemental attack. Enchantment gives resistance to glamour, while Illusion bolsters Familiars or Spirits attuned with obfuscation abilities.” “So... just like how a Healer's Familiar can deliver AOE healing?” Gwen pointed out, thinking of Kumiko’s lesser Spirit Familiar, Onibi. “Not always, but yes, in addition to self-regeneration. Also, if you ever see a Necromantic Conjurer, they have the most infamous Familiar ability of all.” Gwen was all ears. “Life-drain and Vampirism,” Chen stated grimly. “We had to fight them a while back on the Front. Let’s just say it took a Creature Mage to fight a Creature Mage. As the Abjurers found out, you can Banish a flock of Corpse Crows, but you can’t unsummon the decomposing body of a risen Behemoth Beast.” “God, that sounds awful…” “More than you can imagine,” Chen snorted, his mood improving. “But they burn all the same. With your Lightning, that would be a sight to see!” “I am glad to hear that.” Ariel's abilities were a battlefield shoo-in, but Gwen had little faith that Caliban’s Consume wouldn’t be mistaken for Necromancy. The effects were eeriely similar, after all. Chen unsummoned the hounds. “Can you keep up? Shall I slow down?” Gwen replayed Chen’s incantation in her mind, then shook her head slowly. “I’ll give it a go,” she assured the Instructor. Chen’s scoffed with cynicism. Gwen stood back from her Instructor and imitated his stance down to the last inch. Having Chen beside her amidst the glow of a Cognisance Chamber reminded her of how Henry used to teach her the same way. Back then, her theory work had been so lacklustre that all she could do was to parrot her Master’s flow of mana. It was funny that despite possessing no knowledge of advanced Conjuration theory, she could Dimension Door back and forth like a seasoned veteran. Watching a tidal flood of mana circulate through Gwen's Astral Form, Chen squinted, a smirk touching his wizened old face. With an Astral Body like that, Chen speculated, no wonder the Dean was up in arms. “First!” Gwen's Instructor began. “We inscribe the Glyph…” Gwen alternated between Faithful Hound, Blood Hound, and Hound Pack over the next few days, readying herself for the monster lair ahead. Thanks to Chen’s timely intervention, she averted a process of precariously experimenting with delivery and cadence. The result was that after three days, she could wrangle a tier 5 Bloodhound with absolute confidence. As for the Hound Pack, she managed the tier 6 spell with a one-in-three chance of success. That was where her VMI, combined with her Lightning affinity, met in beautiful confluence. A run of the mill Senior Mage casting tier 6 spells usually rocked a mana pool of 60-100 odd VMI. Intuitively, Gwen felt that a pack of Bloodhounds cost her about one-seventh of her 230-odd mana pool. In the event of spell failure, she suffered nothing worse than a headache. Had she been the aforementioned Senior Mage, a feedback-loop exceeding half of one’s maximum allowance would have knocked her out cold. And so, Gwen added resistance to spell-failure to her accumulative list of advantages. Considering that her first Magic Missile had her vomiting all over the rooftop, it was comical that she could now shake off catastrophic fuck-ups with a smile and a catnap. With this in mind, Gwen noted that her Evocation could use a dose of hyper-tier magical training as well. Boosting her Evocation to 5 would up her direct-damage and the damage of Ariel's spell-channelling. Mayhap, Gwen conceived deviously; she could coax the Dean into sending her Magus Young for a few serendipitous lessons on Blizzard and other Evocation staples. Sunday Morning, the crew assembled. Richard, Lulan, Kusu, Petra, Percy and Gwen herself lined up outside Guoding B1. “GEAR CHECK!” Richard inspected his troops. Gwen reported that she had a full complement of potions and clothing, including her elementally-attuned skin suit and Boots of Flying, as well as her Portable Habitat. For her casual attire, she had picked out a black skort to go with her thigh-high boots, paired with a tapered quarter-sleeve top. Beside her was Percy, hand-delivered by an anxious Guo first thing in the morning. Her young man wore military cargo pants in the PLA style, likely chosen by their Grandfather, and a dark t-shirt tapered to his waist and shoulders. His boyish face had taken on a masculine likeness of their father, oozing smugness. Though half-a-head shorter than Gwen, Percy carried himself with quiet competence. Lulan's expressive eyes flittered from Percy to Gwen, then back again, stroking her chin as she pondered Percy's lady-killing proficiency. “I’ve got potions and supplies in my Storage Ring,” Percy rattled off a list of must-have items, feeling neurotic as one of Gwen's companions licked him from head to toe like a piece of meat. “Grandfather got me a localised Contingency Ring as well, so I wouldn't be in mortal danger.” Gwen inspected the glamoured band on Percy's finger, noting its simplicity. As Magus Maymaruya had explained it, two factors determined a Teleportation Ring's worth. Mechanically, the denser the Core, the further the Teleportation. Contractually, the more influential the patron of the commission, the more Towers were willing to accept the Ring's displaced owner. Gunther's Asscher-cut Contingency Ring worked almost anywhere in the world, provided she wasn’t stuck in Antarctica. By that same note, Gwen wondered if the Towers had ever found an elegant solution to the method of infiltration used by Elizabeth Sobel. Considering that she had received no CCs for exposing the loophole, the solution was likely highly censured. In fact, it made sense to expunge the news, as a unilateral voiding of Contingency contracts would suddenly imperil countless Magisters, Maguses and their precious Acolytes. “... Cure Moderate, 3 Restorations, 2 Cure Serious, Antidote, all Cubed,” Petra ran through her inventory with Richard. “I’ll be leaving damage-dealing to Gwen and Lulu.” This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. “That’s fine.” Richard made sure Petra had at least a few spells left to protect herself. “I got potions and myself,” Lulan announced proudly. “I’ve got her supplies, her change of clothes, and our food.” Kusu flashed his 'medium' storage ring. “Lulan brought her bike... and a bed.” “Hey, I like my bike, and I can't sleep without my mattress! AND I have to leave room for the loot!” “You don’t need a bike in the Dungeon! Gwen's got beds in her Habitat!” Richard left the siblings to bicker. Mayuree stood on the sidelines, moping miserably. She had wanted to come, but the House of M had forbidden her from needless danger. As a countermeasure, Gwen took a Teleportation beacon with her so that should the need arise, Mayuree could immediately be within her vicinity. Richard applauded the idea as well, stating that the beacon also served as a contingency for the party, who could always call upon Mayuree for aid should the Quest proceed poorly. "I think we're good." Richard nodded at Gwen. “ALRIGHT, gang!” Gwen declared. “To the public bus!” The 'gang' alighted from the bus at Hongqiao Transit Station. As Richard had promised, their early morning ride out to Nantong was via a freight train. After having their Student I.D’s recorded and their passes stamped, the crew boarded a fifty-segment freight-mover stretching from horizon to horizon. They were joined by a company of labourers who immediately displaced themselves, making space for Gwen’s party. “Ju!” Richard called out to the foreman. “Tell the men to be at ease.” “Mr Huang!” A man in his fifties approached the group. The two men clasped hands. “Good to see you again, Sir.” Once Gwen and her companions settled, the displaced crowd came closer. The men’s demeanour was equal parts wariness and curiosity, surprised by the unexpected visitation of three delectable beauties. Richard conversed with the Foreman, laughing and slapping the wry old labourer on the back. Behind the girls, Kusu joined the group. “…” “…” “Hey, boy!” Kusu pointed a finger toward himself. “Yeah you, what are you doing! Come over here! Don’t bother the Mage ladies!” Kusu felt incredulous - until he looked down. Desiring anonymity and low on crystals, Kusu wore no-name khaki pants, an unbranded t-shirt, and a jacket he’d picked up from the local market. Contrastingly, Petra wore a bright-red Mizuno parka over yoga pants. His sister wore a sundress, the style Gwen liked, mismatched with combat boots. Gwen looked as though she was going for a magazine spread, and Percy wore PLA surplus in aerial sky-camo. Without any distinguishing peculiarities, it was no wonder the labourers thought he was one of them - they were wearing the same style, though theirs were far shabbier. One of the NoMs helpfully drew him aside. “Don’t get too close,” the old man kindly advised, pulling Kusu behind him. “Let Foreman Hung deal with Sir Huang.” The girls stared at Kusu, making him even more self-conscious. Sequestered from his companions by sheer good will, Kusu wanted to weep. Gwen snorted. Possessing a sharp eye for fashion; the NoMs' misunderstanding was immediately apparent. Her mirth quickly infected the other girls, filling the carriage with giggles. "Oi, I think they like you." One of the middle-aged men nudged Kusu in the ribs. "Don't try anything though, enjoy the view while it lasts." One by one Richard introduced his party. “Oh! The Flower of Fudan!” one of the workmen blurted out before someone dragged him back into the crowd. Petra nodded imperceptibly. Upon reaching Kusu, Richard passed over the hopeful young man with complete nonchalance. "!" Kusu wanted to call out, but the friendly labourers dragged him into their midst. Clearly, the hot-headed lad had gone 'must' and had to be restrained. When Richard finished introducing Gwen, who curtseyed and waved, the crowd fell eerily quiet. “Hello.” Gwen gave them a blindingly dazzling smile. "I am Gwen Song." “Where’s her Worm?” someone whispered. “What Worm?” “She’s famous for having this giant Worm following her.” “It eats her enemies!” “Alive, the bones and all.” “Woa…” It was now Gwen's turn to be incredulous. How was it possible that a group of NoM labourers knew about her Caliban? Had she reached that rare stratum of fame where everymen NoMs knew who she was? Would she now need to wear Gucci shades everywhere she went? She waved at the workers, hoping to appear approachable and amiable. As one, the workers backed away. “Careful!” A hand took Kusu by the wrist and yanked him back yet again. “She’s a dangerous one, that one. Sir Huang says she eats Monsters and Rogue Mages for breakfast. You wouldn’t want to offend her now.” “I am a Mage, actually,” Kusu informed his helpful companion, his face growing desperate. “I am with her.” The old man sagaciously patted his shoulder. “Young man, I was young like you once, but a young buck needs to know his limits. That girl might look like a million HDMs, but let me tell ya, a lass like that will gobble you for so much as staring at her the wrong way. You think they call her the Worm Handler as a joke? She’s a Maneater.” Gwen froze, hoping that her ears had deceived her. Possessing unusually acute hearing was both a boon and a curse. Did the NoM just call her a 'Worm-Handler'? What the fuck was a WORM HANDLER? At that moment, sensing the tense atmosphere, Foreman Hung split from the group and shook the team’s hand one by one, sans Kusu. “I’ll be in your care,” the Foreman informed Gwen. “You too, Young Master Percy.” “Likewise,” the siblings replied. “We’ll be over yonder.” Richard directed his team away from the NoMs. Gwen was likely fine interacting with the labourers, but Percy, Lulan and the others usually had little to no contact with the common people. Lulan especially was too thin-skinned and thick-headed to stomach the ill-humour of the labourers. The train departed, its armoured engine core sending a thrumming, chest-thumping vibration through the parallel rails, ponderously picking up speed. Though the train was used for freight, there was enough space cleared for the Mages to make up a comfortable abode for the four hours it took to travel to Nantong. The party made themselves comfortable with an assortment of packets and wedged canvases, then settled down to snacks and chit-chatter. Richard popped a sour plum into his mouth. Puckering his lips, he watched Lulan, Percy and Gwen make small talk beside a heavy slab of transmuted steel. Petra closed her eyes and meditated. Percy looked outside the cabin, enjoying the quickening scene of the countryside. “Say…” The boy looked around, feeling that something was amiss. “Where’s Kusu?” “REALLY?!” Kusu listened to the old men’s flights of fancy, caught in the revelry of their blustery anecdotes. “Truly.” One of the middle-aged men passed him a cigarette, which Kusu accepted out of politeness. Another man helpfully lit the soggy tobacco stick. “I heard from folks living in the Districts that the Worm Handler cleared out a whole level in D-109,” the original speaker continued. “Broke through the gate, she did, rammed right in there, worm and all. Massacred her way through the outer perimeter.” “Blood, guts, bodies all over the place. That worm left nothing alive.” Another joined in. "I hear that her Worm grows larger with every man it eats." “That can't be right. I heard the Handler was on the hunt for a man-eating Carrion worm,” someone attempted to correct the fake news disseminated by the first. “Naw,” a third spoke as though he’d witnessed the bloody ordeal vis-a-vis. “I have it on good authority that she’s taming them. That’s why she’s the Worm Handler, see? She tames worms and uses them for her foul magic. I hear she rides em too.” "Ah, yeah." "That makes sense." "Mao, the gall!" "What, like, clutched between her legs?" “I don't think that's right?” Kusu swallowed nervously. Why was it that Gwen’s exploits around the ‘out wall’ sounded exactly like what Lulan had done? Furthermore, the thought of Gwen riding on Caliban, her white thighs straddling its girth, combined with her usual perchance for skirts, was heating his face like a furnace. “Yeah, she’s a real fatal female, she is,” the first man utterly sagely, borrowing a word he’d gleaned from a book once. “Don’t let her pretty face trick you, she’s a man gobbler.” “I don’t think that means what you think it means.” Kusu scanned his company of grinning NoMs nervously. “Maybe a better choice of words would be wise.” “How about the Swa-” “NOOOO!” Kusu stood. “Alright, it’s nice talking to all of you. I have to go.” “What’s a good one then, eh? All the great Mages got nicknames!” Kusu paused. A vision of Gwen devouring half her bodyweight’s worth of vitality-rich ingredients flashed across in his inward eye. That was during yesterday's lunch, and two days ago at dinner, and... “How about…” The words came to his lips unbidden. “The Devourer?” Gwen had wanted to talk to the NoMs on the freight train to ask about their jobs and their living conditions, but the men seemed to have an aversion to her presence. "Leave them be," Richard advised, a solemn expression on his poker face. "They're just NoMs. They're the same everywhere. Food, shelter, safety, a chance to get better food, shelter, be safer, that sort of thing." An hour later, the train pulled noisily into Nantong Central Railway Station. Kusu had rejoined them halfway, though the Sword Mage strangely kept to himself. The primary platform held two lines for passenger trains while the third and fourth was set up with a wide berth for cargo. The NoMs shuffled off the rear carriage and formed a line for inspection by one of the Transport Officials. Not far from the friendly labourers, Gwen and company proceeded unmolested. “See you on-site, Ju.” Richard waved at the Foreman, who casually saluted him. “Alright everyone, this way.” The station itself was more akin to an enormous warehouse, with a vaulted ceiling of latticed steel forming a gargantuan oblong shape. After registering with the officials at the checkpoint, they proceeded down a stark corridor which eventually led to the main atrium. As the double-doors opened, a blast of hot air odious with human sweat blew into the inner terminal. Unlike the station’s interior, the atrium was a hive of human activity. Thousands of NoMs, seemingly all wearing cotton jackets in garish colours and bundled from head to toe with backpacks and other travel accessories, lined the ticket counters a hundred deep, as far as the eye could see. “It’s gotten worse.” Richard grimaced as he pushed through the crowd. “Gwen, Petra, be careful.” “Why?” Gwen asked, following her cousin closely. “You’ll get pick-pocketed,” Richard warned. “Or worse. They can get grabby. The people here are simple folk. The menfolk especially are used to running things, so they don't think much about respect for the women. Added to the fact that until recently, they had rarely seen Mages and certainly not Gweilo, you get the idea.” “Some guy tried to grope me once,” Lulan stated proudly. “But I didn’t maim him.” “Thanks to me,” Kusu added annoyedly. “Just be careful. Gwen, I'll take the rear, and Richard take the front. Percy, take the side. You girls can walk between us.” "That seems excessive," Petra pouted, evidently offended. “…” Gwen’s thoughts immediately fell to her propensity to attract all kinds of creepy weirdos. Already she could see that their group was drawing eyes from all over. As countless pairs of eyes centred on Gwen, she began to regret not wearing a burka. With her keen perception, Gwen could already sense several figures converging toward them. Am I paranoid? Gwen pondered, or was she merely once molested, twice shy? “!” Her Divination pinged. For once, her foresight affirmed the need to take immediate action. “Caliban!” Her Void worm slithered into existence. “Shaaa!” At once, the crowd fell away from the party, overwhelmed by an inherent aura of existential dread. In Caliban's docile form, the vertigo was barely perceptible by her companions. For the NoMs, however, it was as though the circumference surrounding the party had become a bottomless pit. The tingling in her spine faded. That’s one crisis averted! Gwen gave herself an imaginary pat on the back. Caliban, the eldritch deterrent of pickpockets and deviants! “Showing off?” Richard joked as the party sliced through the crowd. “Cali is hardly subtle. The world will know you’re in Nantong.” “Is that so bad?” Gwen searched the crowd. Everywhere she looked, people averted their gaze. “Who knows?” Richard shrugged. “You could ask Mayuree to throw some bones.” “Nah.” Gwen made sure the others followed closely. “Where are we going now?” “I booked a truck to the site.” Richard indicated to the exterior of the station. Like all public transit spaces, the entrance to the station was six storeys tall and inundated with red ribbons. Across the top row, Gwen read a sign which said ‘SAFELY EXIT AND ENTER’. On an adjacent banner, she read, ‘MOVE QUIETLY AND ORDERLY’. Closer to the door, she almost did a double take when she came across smaller signage: ‘DO NOT DEFECATE ON THE PLATFORM.” Her nose wrinkled. A second sign read: ‘NO PEEING IN THE ATRIUM, USE BATHROOM AT EITHER END.” “What?” Gwen directed Richard to the warnings. “What happened to the euphemisms? Shouldn’t it say something like ‘public health for all’ and ‘clean environment for you and family’?” “It’s the countryside.” Richard snorted. “What, you think people have flushing toilets and running water out there? Filtration units don’t grow on trees you know!” “B-but,” Gwen protested. “You said Nantong was a part of Shanghai’s redistricted outer-zone!” “Oh, Gwen…” Petra squeezed her squeamish cousin’s hand. “That began only two years ago. The Tonglv Canal’s just started this year.” Gwen appeared scandalised. From all she had heard of Nantong and the Nantong Fungs, she was expecting some sort of palace-city. Thank God she came prepared. Richard laughed out loud. The massive gates to the station interior slid open. Humid air rushed in, inundated with a mana miasma so thick that spent particles were visible to the naked eye. Next came the stink of stagnant water, urine, and construction waste. Furthermore, a tidal wave of sound washed over Gwen, the thrumming of earth moving Golems so offensive as to jar her bones. “WOA!” Percy gazed upward at a massive, vaguely humanoid Construct hoisting piles of rebar onto trucks. A dozen similar Constructs were shifting all sorts of cargo onto flatbeds trailers. Richard opened his arms expansively, the dust billowing about his ankles. “Welcome to Nantong!" he shouted above the din. "The fastest growing District in Outer-Shanghai!”

Once they were outside the station, Richard wandered off to locate his truck driver while the rest of the crew stood under the shade of the colossal transit-station. Thanks to Caliban, her party remained unmolested by neither paupers nor guards, not even a single beggar accosted them. “Was it like this the last time you guys came?” Gwen turned to Lulan and Kusu. “Not as such.” Kusu pointed to the mass of bodies still attempting to press into the station’s interior, stopped only by olive uniformed guards with dangerous looking batons. “It’s getting close to the end of the year, and farm work is winding down. Without jobs here, the NoMs apply for permits to work in Shanghai proper. For these folks, the redistricting of Nantong was a real game changer.” “How so?” Gwen enquired, full of questions for the curious mass-migration. Most of the llabourers appeared to be men, but there were women too. She even spotted a few children. “Being included in the Shanghai Special Economics Zone means their Hukou moves up a rug. These guys are no longer rural peasants, haha.” Kusu laughed. “I suppose they’re urban folk now, just look at them!” Gwen, Percy and Petra 'looked'. Gwen felt that it was a bit rich coming from Kusu, but the young man was right. The peasant-turned-city folk were all bundled up in their Sunday best. Coming from a redistricted zone like Nantong, this meant that they were indistinguishable from the homeless wandering through Shanghai’s industrial rim. “We have that in Moscow as well,” Petra chimed in nostalgically. “Outside of the big city, it’s all Frontier: from St Petersburg to Perm and then onto Novosibirsk. Westward of the Eastern line, things are tenable, eastward, there is nothing but Black Zones. Every winter, the rural folk try to get into the cities for safety, warm meals, and menial employment.” “It’s all Black Zones?” Gwen raised an arched brow. “What, all of Siberia? That's a vast swath of land!” Petra nodded. “Are there Dragons?” Gwen persisted out of curiosity. It seemed to her that every country had their dragon-sized problems. If China had a Yinglong, and old Burma had a Tyrant, why not Siberia? Petra shrugged. “No one knows. Or at least no one knows who's in the know.” Her companion snickered. “My ex-Master once said that the powers in Moscow had cut a deal with whatever governed its Siberian domain. If rumours were to be believed, I’d say our Baba Yaga is something akin to a Zmei.” “Is that a type of dragon?” “I suppose.” Petra raised a hand. Using her palm as a platform, she created a three-headed crystalline Magic Beast half-hydra, half-dragon. “There, that’s a Zmei. The most infamous of which would be Chudo-Yudo, it’s all fascinating and mythic, of course, but unproven.” “Hey, the Yinglong is very real.” “Ah~, but Chudo-Yudo hasn’t been seen, not in the flesh, ever.” “Never been witnessed, you mean. All who sees Chudo-Yudo die!” “Well, there's that,” Petra conceded. “Dragons all over, huh?” Gwen noted. "Maybe we're living in the Dragon's world, and Humans are just getting in their way." “There’s a good reason they’re the universal mythos,” Petra suggested shrewdly. “Name me a culture without a dragon.” Gwen didn’t know enough to comment. “Egyptians?” Percy dropped his two cents. “Oh! Good work!” Gwen patted her brother’s head. Indeed, she couldn’t recall seeing dragons on her trip to Egypt back in the day. No bearded crafter sold draconic memorabilia as far as she knew, and she had browsed Khan El Khalili for days. “Nope.” Petra grinned with an air of superiority. “Apep the Chaos Serpent. Primarily cobra, partly divine, and most definitely draconic.” “Bugger.” Percy scratched his head. The conversation then turned to more mundane matters. “Caliban, where are you going?” Gwen noticed her serpent tugging at the edge of her mind. Out of curiosity, she followed it rather than recalling her Familiar. "Pats, I'll just be over there." "Want me to come with?" Percy peeped up. "Naw, stay with Kusu and Pats." "Over here, Little Brother, talk with us," Lulan indicated to a spot next to her. Percy stayed a respectful distance away. He had caught the girl staring several times already, though far from attraction, the feeling he perceived from her was that of an appraiser inspecting a curio. Gwen meanwhile, stalked her slithering serpent toward a branching street not far from the station. In a few years perhaps, it would likely develop into a trendy, gentrified alleyway full of eateries, though now it was filled with dubious, banged up little shops fronts, half-abandoned and falling to pieces. Some workmen were having lunch, a few other napped, and a group of old men played Chinese checkers. “Shaa!” Caliban indicated with its snout. What little activity in the street had instantly ceased, all eyes were turned toward the lithe Mage standing beside her monster by the entrance. “Caliban, to me,” Gwen commanded. Her serpent twisted and turned upon itself with surprising agility, coming to a stop beside her ankles. Her Familiar tugged at her mind. It wanted to go deeper. With meticulous care, Gwen surveyed the scene. The crowd looked away wherever she set her gaze, not daring to meet her eyes. “Shaa! Shaa!” Caliban urged her. The duo proceeded through the alleyway until they reached the other side. She was met by the roar of machinery. It was the main street, still under construction. There had been a crowd of people gathered near a series of box-shaped containers, though now they were staring at her and her monster. Gwen edged closer. First, there was a dour odour. Her monster sniffed the air. "Shaa!" Then Gwen saw it. The spectacle had eluded her at first because there was a huge red banner slung across the cages. The words, embossed in black against the dusty red fabric, read: PROGRESS AND PROSPERITY, LOWERING CRIME, IMPROVING LIFE. Earlier, she had wondered why there were no beggars outside the station and had praised Caliban for deterring vagabonds. Now, Gwen found her answer in amidst crate-like enclosures surrounded by an acrid haze of urine and despair. She had to do a double-take. People in cages? A few were men, most were old women, though a few young children were present as well, both boys and girls. A few old men, missing a limb, or two, or otherwise, laid on their backs. The cages were made low, reaching only her waist, forcing the inhabitants to slouch. She wasn’t sure how long they had been in there, but from the looks of their attire and the filth clinging to their soiled clothes, it had been some time. Outside the cages, just within reach, were begging bowls. “Shaa!” Caliban wiggled its tail. Gwen glanced between her Familiar and the beggars. The panhandlers had by now noted her presence, a few of them already reaching for their bowls. Perhaps it was her attire, her transparent display of wealth and comfort, or maybe it was Caliban’s aura, she couldn’t know, but the beggar began to bang their bowls collectively against their iron rails. ‘Clang!’ ‘Clang!’ ‘Clang!’ ‘Clang!’ ‘C-clang!’ ‘Clang!’ ‘Clang!’ ‘C-clang!’ ‘C-clang!’ ‘CLANG!’ An abominable cacophony filled her head. “SHAAA!” “SHAAA!” Caliban sang to the music of abject hopelessness and desperation, thrilled by the aberrant dissonance. As for Gwen, she tasted a mouthful of bile. Not even in the hopelessness of D-109 had she seen such a sight as this. Beside her, Caliban’s exhilaration extolled her with an unpleasant thought: that perhaps, the greater mercy for these folks was to answer the call of the void. What was it that had drawn Caliban to this place? Her curiosity was no longer keen for answers. Without a word, Gwen fled the scene, unsummoning her fiend. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. By the time Gwen rejoined her party, Richard had returned, accompanied by a minivan and a friendly looking labourer. “The Boss did us a favour,” he informed the party. “I was wondering how we were going to make it on a flat-bed truck, haha.” His companions filed in one by one. Gwen was the last to arrive. “Gwen?” Richard noted her pale complexion. “Did you use your Void spells?” Gwen shook her head. “I’ll tell you in the van.” It took another thirty minutes to get to the mid-section of the Tonglv Canal, where a two-hour hike was required to reach Richard’s Water-Ghost den. “I see.” Richard remained stoic after Gwen narrated her ordeal. “This is not unusual,” Petra pointed out. “After January, it’s not entirely surprising to find frozen NoMs in alleyways, even in Shanghai.” “NoMs die every day.” Lulan put in her two LDMs. “Just in D-109, I knocked off a few by accident.” Gwen stared at Lulan, struck by the weightlessness of her casual confession. “She paid a fine,” Kusu iterated. Seeing that Gwen wasn’t sufficiently placated, he added a few more details. “In both HDMs and CCs, as well as future Community Service.” "I... see." Gwen licked her drying lips. "That's good to know." "Are you unhappy with the verdict?" Lulan asked, her voice worried and uncertain, far more touched by Gwen's displeasure than the maiming of a dozen civilians. “Why the sudden pity?” Petra joined the fray, though the Russian beauty's tone was measured and delicate. “Did you not escape from Sydney? I heard as many as ten thousand NoMs, and several hundred Mages perished in that single incident. Assuming they've accounted properly by now, the dead may exceed thirty thousand. In case you've forgotten, during WWII's Beast Tide, NoM casualties came in around 60 million.” “That's not the same,” Gwen murmured, thinking of the child sitting in a puddle of her wastewater. “The state could help, surely? I am just a little confused as to what the cages imply. Are they being left to die?” “They’re safer in those cages,” Richard explained patiently. “Richard!" Gwen snarled. "What?!” "I think its an elegant solution," Petra stated in that overtly rational manner of hers. “There were kids in there!” Gwen hollered. “How can babies be criminals?” “Gwen.” Richard patted her shoulders. He had been seated in the front passenger's seat, but now he turned around. “Nantong is a developing city, and it's going through growing pains. There's a lot of money coming in, skilful labourers from the city, as well as Mages. The folk here are used to abject poverty, so seeing all that wealth pouring in is getting to their heads. For a while now, the city's had a real problem with pickpockets and beggars. Remember those guys from the train? They're from Shanghai; they don't take shit from anyone; those guys know how to operate machinery, they're concreters and sculptors and plumbers and brickies. You think they're vegetarians? Think again. They're honest, hard-working blokes, but you know what? If those labourers caught one of these peasant-beggars red-handed, they would beat the shit out of them, probably to death. If one of those beggars robbed a Mage from Shanghai, no guard is going to save them. By segregating the beggars, everyone's happy. They're safe, and Nantong's beggar free.” “What?!” Gwen spluttered. “That’s absurd.” “An absurd truth,” Richard pronounced with nonchalance. He knew his cousin had a soft spot for the destitute and the downtrodden. It was admirable, but also impractical in the extreme. “Chang, what's your take on this?" "We'd probably break their thieving hands and leave them to the authorities, boss," the driver replied. "Miss, you're kind-hearted, but don't you worry about the trash, leave em to us. They don't want to work, they don't eat. Easy as that." “I…” Gwen felt as though she was wrestling with an eel. “I don’t know.” “Don’t dwell on it.” Petra pulled Gwen closer so that Gwen rested her head against her shoulder. Gwen was having another one of her episodes, a curious failing for one so gifted for death-dealing. “It’s nothing. They’re nothing. Think about something else.” “…” For the rest of the trip, she instead focused on the rumbling of the mana-engine as the van struggled over the hilly terrain, bouncing and shaking against every groove and divot along the twisted, broken path. Tonglv Canal exists for a singular purpose. To streamline freight shipping from Shanghai’s industrial zones to the South China Sea while bypassing the CBD. Measuring 200 meters across and 90 meters at the thalweg, the yet to be filled man-made valley cut a straight line across the landscape, carving through plains, forests, valleys, hills and wetlands with equal impunity. When their van first pulled up at the industrial zone, Gwen had thought themselves arrived at the foundation of some epic monument, at the base of which concrete covered every conceivable space. Within the valley, gargantuan golems, a dozen or so each four to five storeys tall, manipulated sheets of criss-crossing rebar or towed cables across the newly established canal. At its extremity, two dozen Mages of varying talents worked in tandem. Earthen Transmuters shifted soil and stone aside, pulling apart roots and vines from the sub-tropical flora while Translocation Mages turned the debris, simultaneously conjuring away the refuse. Above and beside them, standing on platforms, Evokers blasted away at quasi-magical critters as the freshly excavated earth crashed over the grey ferroconcrete, as well as denotating sections of hardy granite. “GWEN! Look! It’s a Class III Iron MITSUBISHI Construction Golem!” Percy blurted out, his eyes alive with excitement. “I’ve only ever seen them in Lumen-pics!” Richard likewise took on an appreciative expression. Depressed but nonetheless curious, Gwen regarded the lumbering giants labouring below. Vaguely humanoid, the Golem reminded her of power loaders from the movie Aliens. Standing on iron-wrought stilts and apportioned like a dwarf, the golem was stout of body, with broad, iron-wrought shoulders sporting a plethora of hissing pistons. Painted a comical construction-yellow, it towered over the Mages working below. Just above its shoulders where its head should be was an operator cage, within which was the pilot. Behind the driver's cage was a load-trailer where the golem deposited what was dug up. “Wow.” Percy was beside himself. “Gwen, are you seeing this?!” Gwen chuckled, boys and their toys. It was in moments like this that Percy acted his age. As for Gwen, just seeing her brother so filled with exuberance dispelled her earlier ire. “Sure am.” she placed a hand against her hip. “Richard, do you know any of the drivers?” “Yeah, I know a few." "Do you think Percy could take a look inside?" “I don't see why not." Richard shrugged. “So long as Junior won’t be a menace.” “I won’t!” Percy turned back to the machines, his eyes gleaming. Gwen chuckled. Indeed, what fifteen-year-old boy wouldn't be in ecstasy when seated within a full-scale Caterpillar heavy-hauler? These Golems looked like bipedal, humanoid Bagger 288s mated with a Tonka Truck. If she had to draw a pop reference, they reminded her of gritty, 90's cartoon Transformers. The party watched as the golem knelt with one of its excavator's arm, shoving up to its elbows into the loam. A Transmuter below then collapsed the upper section perfectly into the digger. With a mighty roar of its Japanese-made engine, the giant retreated, taking out a near-perfect rectangle of elementally compressed soil, displacing the load onto the canal’s banks. Gwen had to admit, watching a ten-meter robot earth-moving had a simple, hypnotic quality. This world might not have basic social safety nets or OSHA, but they had Iron Giants at their beck and call. “Look there!” Richard tapped Gwen’s shoulder, pointing at a sudden eruption at the base of the excavation. “Those are River-Gobs!” The new excavation had inadvertently revealed a warren system, exposing its interior to air and light. As Richard spoke, two midget-like goblins leapt from a collapsed section of the mud-bank and made for the Transmuter. “CONTACT!” someone yelled. The Transmuter must have had an armour spell active, for the first Gob bounced off, while the second hung onto his arm without managing to deal damage. The Evoker atop the escarpment seemed lost as he waited for an opportunity to strike, waiting for a Shield or perhaps the Transmuter to throw the Goblins a safe distance away. The goblins, possibly understanding their life depended on their adhesion to the Transmuter, clung on for dear life. “Gwen.” Richard nudged her. “What's the range on your Lighting Bolt?” “Enough." Gwen gauged the distance: the Gobs were a little far, but she could manage. "Ariel! Assist me!" “INCOMING! DON'T MOVE!” Gwen called out, her voice ringing across the construction space, empowered by both her Essence and a vocalised Clarion Call. “Lightning Bolt!” The party below was a hundred odd meters away. A blue-white arc of lightning struck the first ball-like Goblin, penetrating its body before it enveloped the second. Where the electricity would have concurrently assaulted the Transmuter, it instead grounded itself, completing the circuit between Gwen and her target. The first pot-bellied Mer-Goblin exploded in a shower of guts and bone. The second convulsed; its overtly large eye-sockets boiling before it fell limply to the floor. Percy stared at his sister, as did a smitten Kusu. “WOW!” Lulan clapped happily. Gwen retracted her finger, then blew on it as one would the nozzle of a pistol. The gesture was a little strange to her peers, it wasn’t as though Gwen used a Ray subtype or a wand, but the implication was clear. “Well done!” Richard clasped her shoulders. The construction Golem turned its cage upward and waved at the Party. The Party waved back. The Transmuter shaped a protruding block of soil into a thumbs up. Gwen’s companions laughed heartily at the acknowledgement. “See?” Richard smiled at Gwen, full of confidence. “Nantong’s not so bad, right?” More Riven-Goblins poured from the warren. Gwen pupils flared with concentric rings of blue-white electricity. She could use a good fight to blow off some steam. The encounter ended as quickly as it had begun. In its aftermath, they had been joined by the Transmuter crew Gwen had saved. Perhaps more surprisingly, the pilot of the rig was a NoM and a woman, shocking Percy as well as Gwen. The wizened pilot thanked Gwen and her companions, leaving them a gift of bottled rice wine from Xian. Percy got to have his ride, going as far as walking the golem around, moving several metric-tons of dirt to and fro. "The controls are manual," Richard explained later, sensing Gwen's confusion. "At least that's true for Construction Golems. If you're wondering about Mage Pilots. They're exclusive to the Military. Did you know Military Golems can be linked to the driver's talents? It's very interesting Magi-tech, mostly from Israel and the U.S.A." "Abominations." Lulan appeared wary of the giant constructs. "I hear the real ones have human souls sealed into them. That's got to be Necromancy." "Which is why we use the piloted variety," Richard stated the obvious. "I'd love to see a battle-golem up close though." They were a little behind schedule now, though that didn't worry Richard. Thanks to Gwen’s Portable Habitat, there was no need to fret over day cycles. Combined with Petra’s Warding expertise and Lulan's Stone Shape they could set up a discrete shelter anywhere, even deep inside the Dungeon. The marching order of the Party was laid out by their de facto leader. First and foremost was Richard himself, joined by Lea. Lulan, whose swords could counterattack through the soft Water Shields, was second. Gwen was the artillery Mage, taking up third place. In the middle was their VIP, Percy, who was advised to stay put, followed by Kusu and Petra, bringing up the rear. The team affirmed their positions. “If we had a Cleric, we could get some group buffs,” Gwen noted from the mid-section, thinking of Elvia. “No worries there,” Richard advised. "Petra's brought buffs." "Once we're inside, or when we're close," Gwen's cousin advised. "I've also got two Heroisms cubed." Lulan gave Petra a thumbs up. “I could do wonders with a buff like that.” The girl grinned from ear to ear. “Keep me topped up, and I'll solo anything.” “Now, now,” Ricard placated the cheerfully murderous Lulan as she hopped from foot to foot. “We don’t know what’s at the bottom. It could be a big-ass Water-Ghost, or it could be something nastier. Our job is to kill it, not to put ourselves in unnecessary danger.” The Sword Mage nodded obediently. “Lulu, be a good girl and listen to Richard,” Kusu apprised. “Che-!” The girl clicked her tongue at her brother. "You're not the boss of me." Kusu shot Richard a look of agonised constipation. Gwen read it as, ‘Are you seeing this shit?!’ She burst into unexpected laughter, vaguely aware that her offence over the caged NoM had grown diluted and distant. As for the reason why, she could only guess that amongst such a company of excellent and competent companions, her conscience had grown comfortably numb. "Gwen, can you drop the Hounds now?" Richard diverted Gwen's train of thought before her solicitude could dwell. "Of course!" Gwen perked up. She had been looking forward to this moment. "Who let the dogs out?"

“DOGGING IT UP!” Gwen announced to the party. “If I screw it up and start barfing all over - nobody laugh.” “Ooo!” Lulan clapped, her eyes full of anticipation. "We won't," Richard promised, his legs casually crossed as he leaned on Kusu's shoulder. “Ariel!” “EEee!!” Ariel presented itself with a flash and a flourish, swishing its tail. Gwen drew an iris-searing Conjuration glyph in the air, first beginning with the Major incantations, then moving onto minor adjustments before finishing with the final invocation. “... Hound Pack!” The party collectively held their breath. The first Deerhound emerged, sleek and semi-draconic, shimmering with static-electricity. Then another, a more robust copy of the first, with long, blade-like ears. Another and another, until all seven were facing Gwen's astounded companions. “D-Draconic Hounds?” Kusu blurted, his jaw failing to re-hinge itself as the hounds began to sniff the party members, recording the scent of their allies. “Seven?” Richard implored. “I can’t seem to get past that number,” Gwen confessed. “Instructor Chen said it's a matter of experience. Maybe when I actually reach tier 6, I could manage more, but that's all I got for now.” Gwen drew another Glyph in the air. “Bloodhound!” An eighth hound emerged, heavier than the others. The Deerhound's noble mien reached Lulan’s shoulders; when it breathed, two sets of electrified-air ejected from its dark nostrils. Its eyes were two cobalt orbs of vivid lightning with a dark slit at its centre. Kusu’s heart violently seized when Lulan carelessly embraced Gwen’s alpha-hound with an open-armed, full body hug. “IT'S SO SILKY!” Lulan rubbed her cheeks against the dog’s forehead as it licked her hand. Gwen’s Deerhounds were modelled after the short-furred hunting hounds of Scotland, possessing a fine coat of short silvery fur that oozed luxury when stroked. "Oooh! Its jowls are super soft as well!" Kusu back-paddled cautiously. According to the spell’s description, these were tier 4 compelled-elementals. Though doglike, Kusu knew well the deceptive nature of assigning standardised ‘tiers’ to Magical Creatures. When imbued with draconic-essence, even a deer could become a significant threat. “What beautiful animals.” Petra patted a dog with each hand, feeling the warmth radiating from the beasts’ scalps. “It is hard to believe that they are elementals. Why are they so real?” “Chen says it’s because I am concurrently running Transmutation,” Gwen remarked helpfully. “That and I love my dogs!” “You used to have a dog?” Caught by her own disinformation, Gwen rummaged through her memories for an answer. “We have greyhounds in Australia.” She threw out a bone for her companions. Gwen couldn’t possibly inform Petra that she had religiously attended every Easter Show, window shopping for canines while speaking to their breeder-owners, fantasising about rearing a big Wolfhound or a stout Dane. Even now, she could recall the sensation of running her hand over those big, beautiful canines, through their fur, feeling the warm drool dripping down their paunchy jowls. “EE! EE!” Her hounds stood to attention, skipped away from the gang, then formed into a wedge with Ariel at its centre. “Oh my GOD.” Percy mouthed, his eyes glimmering with awe and desire. Like Gwen, he had always wanted a big dog as well. “Sis, you’ve killed me.” “Hahaha!” Gwen laughed, her hands gripping her brother's shoulders, hysterically gloating with pleasure. There was a particular euphoria that drugged the brain when others praised one’s pets or children, and Gwen was drowning in a pool of it. “Can you incant…” Kusu asked only the important questions. “Void Hounds?” Richard whistled. Petra's ears perked up. Gwen shook her head. “I’ll need A LOT of vitality for that,” she informed her companions. “Also, I’d rather not risk Void-burn. I had those a few times, in the beginning, and each time I was knocked out for hours.” Just imagining a mana burn that involved both void matter and vitality was enough to make the party grimace. “So, what can your dogs do?” Richard paced around the alpha, inspecting its handsome features. “Ariel!” Gwen commanded. "EEE! EE!" 'Showing' was worth a thousand words. As one, the dogs formed into a W. The pack sat - rolled over - then swapped places as though in a marching band, responding to each, 'EE!' with mechanical efficiency. ‘Clap! Clap! Clap!' Lulan was beside herself. Ariel rose into the air. “EE~ Eee!! EE!” “They’re going to scout for prey, see what’s in the surrounding area,” Gwen declared boastfully. “Originally, the pack is supposed to be led by the Bloodhound. That’s what Morden had intended, although I’ve got Ariel.” The party looked upward. Ariel levitated above like an airborne general, resplendent even in its mundane combat form. “Hah-hah-hah-hah~.” The dogs fanned out into the knee-high bush, their panting growing fainter as they crashed through the hilly peat. “Let’s proceed.” Gwen pointed northward. “MY Ariel and MY Deerhounds will take care of ALL our scouting! HAHA! No more stupid orienteering!” “Wonderful!” Lulan applauded, admiration gushing from every pore. Petra and Kusu looked toward Richard. “Gwen.” Richard implored his cousin with great gentleness, placing both hands on Gwen’s shoulders before turning her leftward toward a northerly direction. “Your dogs have gone the opposite way.” "That's not north?" Gwen pointed a rudely erect finger toward the direction her dogs had gone. “That’s east,” Richard informed her with great solemnity. “North-North-West is that way.” The euphoria drained from Gwen's face. “Lea!” Richard summoned his Spirit. The Undine couldn't 'fly' in the Spellcraft sense; instead, she levitated at will with complete freedom of movement. “Heeheehee!” The Undine flittered about Ariel playfully, mocking its master’s directional-blindness as below, Gwen grudgingly redirected the hounds. “Ariel.” Gwen moped. “Follow Lea’s direction…” “EEE-EE!” “Contact!” Gwen called out. An hour in, the Water Ghost’s lair could just be seen, buried under a massive mound. The strange landscape reminded Gwen of a colossal ant-hill, disrupting the flat expanse of the muddy peat bog. When Gwen had asked Richard why the bog had evaporated, her cousin informed her that the PLA had drained it in anticipation of the Canal's final stages, which required the ground to be thoroughly dried and compressed. After half a minute, two of Gwen’s Deerhounds came running, pursued by Water Ghosts. “God they're ugly!” Percy cried out as the Ghosts came into view. Gwen mouthed a silent 'Strewth!' in turn. Ugly wouldn't even begin to describe these simian fiends. The leading male was a specimen almost five-foot tall, broad of chest, hulking in its bearing with steel-cable arms. Its face was a bedraggled mess of fur, moss and other unnamable growths, hiding two beady eyes glowing with dark maleficence. The creature had the gait of a biped, though it ran expertly on all fours, using its elongated arms in the same fashion as gorillas to propel its body forward. The second was a male as well, though smaller, begging the question of whether or not it was an adolescent or an inferior specimen. The party fanned out with Richard taking the lead, attended by Gwen and then the others. “Wanna try out your dogs?” Richard inquired. “Sure,” Gwen agreed. “Ariel!” “EE!” Her dogs sallied forth. About a hundred meters from the party, the two Water Monkeys stopped. The alpha sniffed the air, then turned directly toward Gwen and her company, half hidden in the ankle-deep sedge. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. “See that? They have poor vision, but possess a keen sense of scent,” Richard pointed out. “There’s no ambushing these bastards.” The Water Monkeys turned to flee, but by then it was too late. Three of Gwen’s Deerhounds closed in behind their prey, growling dangerously. The other two made an about-face, likewise turning on the Monkeys. “GRRRRRR~!” A throaty confluence of bone-throbbing growling filled the low valley, masking the presence of yet another three dogs hidden in the shallow sedge. The stink of ozone radiating from Gwen's electrified animals was overpowering. “Did you teach 'em that?” “Chen trained Ariel,” Gwen smirked. “Ariel’s the top dog up there. I suppose that makes me the sheepherder.” Indeed, from up on high, Ariel shimmered gently, commanding Gwen’s hounds. “EE!” “Rrowff!” The foremost hound feigned an assault. “SHREEEIII!” An unexpected howl pierced the soggy air, rippling from the Water Monkey’s chest like a banshee's wail. “YIP! YIP! YIP! YIP!” The smaller of the two began to beat its chest, emitting an awful racket from its peeling lips, baring inch-long fangs set into pink, mangled flesh. “They’re calling for the rest of the pack!” Richard cracked his neck. “Lea! Shields on everyone! Maximum repulsion! We’re forcing them toward Gwen’s dogs!” Gwen's irises gleamed with excess Lightning as she loaded up a tier 5 Evocation. Lulan fell into a defensive stance, her pupils turning a vivid ochre. “Dagger Wall!” A swarm of dagger-like implements materialised around Kusu, floating placidly above the party, ready to intercept whatever came their way. “Crystal Skin!” Petra’s envious silhouette shimmered, becoming wreathed in a brilliant shell. Percy hopped from foot to foot, trying to spot the incoming pack. Down on the bog-flat where the two Monkeys had been cornered, Gwen’s pack met their quarry in melee. After a feigned snap to the neck, the second quickly nipped at the larger of the two targets, trying to hamstring the alpha. Dextrously, the first Water Ghost dodged, only to be met with a third dog, who had anticipated its sidestep. The smaller Monkey attempted to assist its companion - but was bodily checked by yet another growling hound. As it dived for cover, a shadow leapt from the sedge, barrelling into its chest and pinning it against the soggy turf. Beside the fallen Water Ghost, its companion faired no better. The sneak-attack ripped into its calves, forcing the Monkey to its knees while another ambushing hound tore out a chunk of its arm. “SCREEEEEEIIII!” "SCHEEEII! YIP! YIP! YIP!" A series of bone-chilling screeches polluted the air. “SCEE-!” Its battle cry was suddenly cut short. Gwen's alpha hound made its move, assailing the larger Water Ghost from behind, sending it crashing into the mud. The rest of the pack fell upon the shrieking simian, tearing at its abdomen and torso as it frantically struggled. One of the dogs took a blow to the chest before snapping back, catching the Monkey’s paw in its jaw. ‘Crunch!’ “Shii…shii…” The creature attempted to cover its face with a mangled limb. Gwen's alpha wouldn’t have it, her hound tore away at the Ghost's forearms with an enthusiasm that would have made a starving Gwen proud, ripping out rags of bone-white sinew. “OH MY GOD!” Percy paled, watching the dogs at their terrible work. “GWEN! They’re eating the damn thing alive!” “SHUT UP!” Richard shouted over Percy’s incredulous utterance. “STAY DOWN! THEY’RE HERE!” And they were. The waterlogged loam surrounding the party bulged like diseased pustules before erupting into full-sized Water Ghosts. “Their elemental teleport is kind of like a Blink!” Lulan shouted over the sound of splashing water. “They can't use it unless they're ambushing though. It'll get worse when we’re indoors!” “LULU!” Kusu screeched. “DON’T let the water from their fur touch your lips! It’s poisonous!” Diseased, Gwen corrected Kusu mentally. Virulent bacteria likely inundated the water cascading from the damned thing's mangy fur. “Ariel!” Gwen channelled a spell into her Familiar. It was far easier launching spells from up on high than at her eye-level, especially when they were ankle-deep in mossy turf. “Warding Shield!” A total of six adult Water Ghosts emerged about two meters from the party’s right, taking advantage of the momentum of their innate water-Blink to throw their bodies into melee range. "FARRRRRK!" Percy fumbled with his Salt Bolts. He was beginning to realise that competitive duelling was distinctly different from half a dozen disease laden barrelling baboons frothing at the lips. Richard waited until the last moment before activating his Shields; driving Percy up the wall, or at least up Petra's crystal coated form. ‘Thunk!’ ‘Splash!’ Forward facing semi-dome barriers swiftly negated the Monkeys’ momentum, catching four of the creatures mid-air. A hidden jet of water caught the victims as they spun, turning the Shield into a cocoon. The remaining two broke through. “Lulu!” “GOT IT! BROAD STROKE! SWEEP!” Lulan’s gleaming Iron Blade caught the first Monkey across the chest, biting viciously into flesh and bone, stopping the creature's momentum cold. Her second strike proved a second too slow, nicking the Monkey across the shoulder as it dexterously contorted its upper body. “Ball Lightning!” Gwen had been the nursing her tier 5 Evocation with meticulous care. Jacked up on adrenaline and fuming with thunderous wrath, she channelled the spell through Ariel's horns. Despite her growing competence, the hyper-tier Evocation remained a considerable challenge. Without her teammates, it was unlikely that she could enjoy fifteen-seconds of uninterrupted, stress-free invocation. Her first Ball Lightning caught the last Ghost that had slipped their defences, erupting into a white-hot sphere of plasma as its latent energies unleashed. The remaining four, likewise ejaculated from Ariel’s incandescent horns, erupted where Richard had momentarily immobilised their quarry, ripping through their targets as the liquid cocoon turned into superheated steam. “Caliban!” Gwen materialised her second Familiar. Now was the perfect time to stock up on vitality. “SHAAA!” There was no need for elaborate transformations. Caliban slithered straight for the most wounded creature, pinned by Lulan’s sword into the ground like a kabob, opening its carapace with gleeful abandonment. “Shaaa~, Shaaa~.” “SCREEEEEEIIII!” The lame Monkey thrashed against the slab of iron, ripping its wound; its flailing claws scored bloody gashes all over Caliban’s pulsating purple flesh, spraying ichor over the dark turf. But as with the proverbial honey badger, Caliban didn't give a shit. Caliban's lamprey lips launched for the Monkey's face. It all happened so fast. Percy stood in the midst of splashing water, exploding lightning, crushing blades of iron, the yipping and growling of dogs, throngs of screaming, insane Monkeys, and a yawning Petra. His sister was strong, and her friends weren’t bad either, that had been the intellectual understanding he had brought to Nantong. Seeing the gory ordeal come to life, however, was opening his eyes to a reality he could scarcely comprehend. How could they even tell what the hell was going on? Percy’s mind revolted. There was so much chaos, a concourse of light, colour and sound concomitantly occurring amidst spurting blood, snapping bones, howling Familiars and screeching monsters. “Lightning Bolt!” “SWEEP! THRUST!” “PIERCE!” “Lightning Sphere!” "SHAAA!" "Shield!" “SWEEP! Iron Strike!” "E-EE!" "LULU! CAREFUL- CAO!" "GRRR!" His amulet glowed red-hot, subsuming the escaping essence of dying creatures all around him. A few times he tried to help, but before his incantation even finished, a sword would lop off a limb, or a blast of lighting would erupt, leaving nothing but smouldering flesh. Whenever a creature got too close, a barrier of water would send it reeling backwards, or Kusu would protect him with a wall of steel implements. More often than not, stragglers were dragged off by Gwen's dogs. “Salt B-” "SHAA!" Caliban tackled Percy's target. Now in a feeding frenzy, Caliban was fully fluffed, more terrifying than Percy had ever seen the jovial worm. Ignoring all wounds and feeling no pain, it crashed bodily into the largest of the Water Ghosts. The simian beast kicked and scratched at the Familiar's body while Caliban hung on face-first, a comical addition to the monster's anatomy. OH, GODS! Percy felt sick to his core even as his amulet recharged. The Monkey's simian head slipped into Caliban’s maw, then inch by chomping inch, Caliban took the damned thing into its gullet. Even when half of the Monkey’s torso could no longer be seen, it thrashed and kicked, sending out vivid sprays of purple-black ichor that polluted the yellow-green undergrowth. “Percy!” Gwen’s cheery voice called for him. "You alright?" Percy glanced up to see his sister, her face flushed with the passion of the hunt, her cheeks rosy with thrilling violence. “Gwen! Bring em!” Richard commanded Percy's shepherd sister. The combat was dying down, the earlier chaos reduced to the sound of whimpering resistance. Gwen’s Deerhounds approached, six of her dogs dragging two simian victims between them. Percy stared in horror as the hounds deposited its quarry. One of the Water Ghosts could barely be recognised as such, now missing most of its furry dermis and half of its face, with one eye hanging loosely by a few precarious vessels. The smaller one was whole, though it was bleeding out via a missing chunk of its throat. The rest of the party convened upon the bloody spectacle. “Percy, go for it,” Richard directed him toward the twitching aberrations. “Your first Monster Kill, buddy, tier 3, maybe tier 4, not bad! I had to start with bloody Yabbies, you know!” Gwen appeared behind Richard, looking apprehensive. Percy could hardly breathe. He looked down at the creature below him. A pair of mangled jaws, even a meter away, reflexively snapped at him. “Salt Bolt!” The incantation came naturally to his lips. Percy watched as a razor-sharp shard of Salt sliced into the creature’s skull. His sister winced. Percy wondered what drove Gwen to want her little brother to deliver the coup de grâce. “Salt Bolt!” The second strike proved likewise unerring, taking the creature with a single hit. “WELL DONE!” Richard slapped Percy on the back. “Nice control you’ve got there, Percy. Next time, your targets will be moving!” Percy looked up to see his sister smiling at him with bloodshot eyes. The amulet burned as the creatures' essence entered the Kirin Stone's Soul Well, after which the jade cooled. “Holy shit.” Percy cracked a forceful smile, his mind a deluge of emotions after bearing witness to such competence. “Sis, you guys are insane.” A look of benevolence broke across Gwen’s tautly strung face. “You know it!” She hugged him. “You did so much better than me when I was put in the position. I couldn't even look at my targets, even knowing that I had every right and that they deserved nothing better.” Percy awkwardly returned the embrace. “ALRIGHT!” Richard spared no time for sentimentality. “Petra! Lulan, IT'S TIME!” “Resist Disease!” Petra dropped an essential protection spell on Lulan. At the tier in which Petra had acquired the stowed spell, it would remain active for days. Lulan kicked over a Monkey corpse. Two Iron Blades fell like meat-cleavers, taking the body apart, splattering her from thigh to elbow. She reached down and ripped open the ribcage, searching for the promised prize. Not far, Gwen was coaxing Caliban to return any Cores the creatures may have stowed by stroking its mid-section. “MAO!” Lulan triumphantly emerged, scarlet from her elbow to the tip of her fingers, her white face crimson with viscera. “I found one!” “You’re kidding me!” Kusu’s eyes moved between the object in Lulan’s hand and the astonished, pale-faced Percy, trying to fathom some form of probable cause. “A Core?! REALLY?!” “I got one here too.” Gwen pushed on Caliban’s torso, coaxing a slimy orb from its lamprey lips. The Core landed with a plop. “Four more bodies!” Lulan skipped happily to the next body and once again began her merry butchery. A wayward spleen ruptured, filling the air with a foul odour. Behind Lulan, Percy reached his limits. His sister, their cousins, and her friends were insane. Turning away from the 'Nantong Ripper', Percy cleared the contents of his breakfast. Richard nodded with satisfaction; his work was done. “Good sport.” He gave Percy a thumbs up. “Kusu, you owe me 50 HDMs.” “CAO!” Kusu cursed. “You would think Gwen's brother was made of sterner stuff!” Four Cores later, Kusu was aghast. “I am not going to ask why, I only hope you come with us every time,” the crystal starved ex-Clanner professed, handing Percy a towel. “Thanks.” Percy wiped his lips. Gwen’s dogs fanned out again, directed by Ariel. “Prestidigitation!” Gwen ran the quasi-magical laundry Device over Lulan’s dress. The girl’s tolerance for ultra-violence was mind-numbing. Even Gwen, who had personally seen a Mage eaten from inside-out by an eldritch horror, was sickened by her gory labour. Earlier, Gwen had to take a quick break to ‘digest’ her newly acquired vitality. Having her friends, not to mention Percy, seeing her groaning with ecstasy was beyond awkward, so she had forced herself to remain grim and unmoving while her innards contorted. After a minute of stoicism, Gwen could once again breathe. The Monkeys were robust, but their vitality was tier 3 at best, maybe scraping into tier 4 on the Nephres scale. It was their ambushing, pack-hunting tactics that made them so dangerous. On another note, Gwen was gaining a renewed appreciation of just how potent draconic-essence could be. Compared to the earth-shattering, eyes-rolling-to-the-back-of-her-head ecstasy in Huangshan, her mortal meal of Monkeys was chugging stale-beer compared to slugging Mao-tai. Lulan emerged from her butchery smiling from ear to ear. 8 Water Ghosts. 16 CCs so far. Fortuitously, Gwen packed enough LDMs to dry-clean Lulan's entire wardrobe and then some. “EE! EE!” Ariel reported back. “All good.” Gwen passed on the buck. “Nothing of note within half-a-kilometre.” “Marching Order!” Richard barked. The Water Mage was a born drill sergeant. He inspected his troops before giving the command to keep moving. “Gwen, get the dogs! Alright, to the Lair!”

Having gotten a taste of the Water Ghosts' peculiarities, the party proceeded with care as they made for the lair. There were no more ambushes, indicating that the creatures had retreated for the advantage of their subterranean abodes. “Any chance we can just excavate the damned lair?” Gwen noted the intimidating size of the den as they approached. Judging by the outside, a medium-sized shopping complex would fit under the thing. “You're going to need a Magister-tier Earthen Mage for that.” Richard commanded Lea to displace the water as they proceeded, allowing the party to avoid any unpleasant surprises. “That or earth-moving golems. Good luck transporting them though. It’s cheaper to pay five ambitious Uni students, hahaha!” "There sure are A LOT of beasties here," Gwen noted, watching Caliban slither about, eating every other thing it found. There were colourful frogs, viscous looking water bugs, and other devious looking fauna all over the place. Ariel reported that Gwen’s hounds were constant victims of harassment by the local fauna, though it wasn’t anything their draconic-constitution couldn’t handle. The falling level of water had brought all kinds of critters out from the murk. “Is the lair underwater?” “Nope, Water Ghosts are air-breathing.” Richard sent out a blast of water, removing a clump of stubborn turf, revealing a host of red-spotted white worms slithering this way and that. “WHAT THE FUCK!” Percy circulated a layer of Salt over his body. “Scarlet-tailed leeches.” Kusu leaned in closer for a better look. “Better not have an open wound - they're drawn to blood…” Percy paled, shivering uncontrollably. MY BOY, afraid of bugs? Gwen mused. It was true though. Percy was a city boy through and through. She at least had the experience of camping out in the outback, and an extra decade or two’s experience- Sensing the font of vitality that was Gwen's delicious, essence-filled body, dozens of leeches made a leap of faith for her exposed skin. “FU- LIGHTNING BOLT!” A line of lightning cut through the peat-marsh, displacing a linear row of water before spreading forth as a jagged fissure of scorched earth. “Jesus-strewth!” Gwen caught her breath. It was strange how Caliban could be a cute little horror from the Void, but these slimy white wormlings set her teeth on edge. The others chuckled. They continued, with Gwen blasting off bolts every hundred meters or so. “I am frankly surprised your spells aren't attracting more Ghosts.” Richard looked up at Ariel and Lea floating up above. “GOT ANYTHING?” “EEE?! EE!” “Nothing,” Lea reported back. By the time the party arrived at ‘base camp’, by which Richard had meant the entrance to the lair, they were losing sunlight. “How're we feeling?” Richard turned to his party. “Got enough stamina to start on the lair?” “I am fine.” Gwen raised her hand. “Percy?” “I am alright.” Percy had worked up a good sweat. All of them had in the humid weather. The chill radiating from the soggy marsh permeated their bodies. Combined with the hostile flora and fauna, it was self-evident that without significant terra-forming, the sodden landscape could not sustain human habitation. Of the group, it was only Gwen who appeared barely touched by fatigue. But looking at his party, Richard knew better. "Let's take a breather anyway," he advised. "We'll break for afternoon tea, refresh our heads, then head in." He gazed upward. “Ariel, Lea, set up a perimeter please.” “EE!” Ariel swished its tail. Lea nodded, then drifted away to survey the perimeter. The hounds fanned out. Gwen stared at the cavern’s entrance. Had she not known it was there, she would have thought it a moss-strewn split in the risen landscape. Beside her, Richard materialised a portable stove. “So, what flavour of rations do you guys want?” The party had barely eaten when Ariel and Lea reported that they had Water Ghosts coming out of the cavern. “They're attracted to SPAM?” Gwen protectively held the block of spiced mystery-meat close to her chest. They had enjoyed the peace until Gwen, displeased with rations of nutritious mana-infused military ration, added a few blocks of SPAM to her bubbling pot. Soon after, the salt-soaked meat sent up a delicious scent. It was then that Lea reported on the disturbance around their camp. The party's response was skeptical, none more so than Richard, who’d thought he had done his due diligence on the Water Ghosts. “Gwen, give me your SPAM. I need at least twice as much as you've got going there." Richard wasn’t one to let go of an opportunity; straightaway, he ordered the party to collect their things. “A-all of them?!” Gwen protested feebly. Richard mercilessly tore the SPAM from Gwen's hands, then dunked the formless flesh into the bubbling pot. The party was by now over a hundred meters away, watching two dozen blocks of simmering fat swimming in Richard's wok. “Lea!” Lea manipulated the water vapours, stirring the salty soup so that the bubbling scent wafted into the cavern's mouth, likewise permeating the waters below. They left Ariel floating above, just out of sight, confident that the remarkable scent of processed meat would overwhelm the Monkeys' desire to look up. “Gwen, get ready.” Still mourning her ration of SPAM, Gwen channelled a sliver of Almudj’s Essence into Ariel, transforming her Familiar into its Quasi-Draconic form. Ariel seemed to possess a far better command of the essence than she did, capable of both withholding and radiating the aura's palpable effects. Gwen then preloaded an Elemental Sphere. The party waited. It didn’t take long for the water around the campsite to roil and churn, bursting apart violently to reveal a dozen Demi-humanoids both large and small. With her eagle-eyed vision, Gwen baulked when she spotted a specimen with drooping, dried up breasts beneath its mattered fur. There was another, a youngling, suckling on the teat of a younger female. From their gait and their body language, they appeared famished. It was no wonder the creatures were drawn to SPAM. Gwen’s mind blanked out, suddenly accosted by an unpleasant and dubious acknowledgement. A hand landed on her shoulder. "Let's do this!" Richard grinned. "Good thing you brought the SPAM! Kusu, take a left, wall them in. Lulu, you're on the right, don't let a single CC escape! Percy, Petra, you’re with me! Gwen, engage as soon as we're in place!” Gwen's companions charged ahead. Her mind numb with unbidden solicitudes, Gwen commanded Ariel to prioritise coverage over damage. “Barbanginy!” Two globes left Ariel’s stag-horns, guided by its tentacle whiskers. In a split-second, the blinding orbs grew in size, taking on the guise of a twin star-fall, hellbent on obliterating the SPAM stealing culprits. The spheres struck, growing in radius until they encompassed the entirety of the campsite. “SCEEIIII!” “SCARRRR!” “YIP YIP Yi-” Twin novas of viridescent lighting rang out, blighting the landscape, splitting the peat, rending flesh, blasting bone, peeling skin and fur. The shrieks of the Monkeys suddenly grew silent. “Caliban!” Gwen’s second Familiar joined the fray. Though she could taste her dilemma like oxidised iron on the tip of her tongue, she knew better than to let the Monkey's lives go to waste. Her serpent joined the fray, frenzied in its feasting of their fried and battered foe. “Salt Bolt!” “Strike!” “Piercing Dagger!” Percy quelled his share of singed, gurgling simians, feeling his amulet thrum as it drank the low-tier essence. Lulan directly dispatched her share of babbling beasts with broad sweeping strokes to the head and neck. Kusu likewise swept through the rear, his daggers unerringly finding their marks, penetrating softened flesh flayed by Gwen’s lightning. Richard walked up beside Gwen as she ruminated upon the operatic scene styled after the Seventh Circle of Dante's hellish Inferno. “What’s wrong?” “What's WRONG? There were females and younglings amongst those Water Ghosts!” Gwen spluttered. There was no need to be coy with Richard. “They're sapient beings! Don't deny it! You said they were sapient back in Shanghai!” Richard took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “They’re sapient.” Her cousin smirked, his tone entirely objective. “I duly confess that these creatures feel, have complex social units, and are even known to perform the occasional act of altruism. Why - what’s the matter?” “W-what's wrong?" Gwen shuddered. "Richard, must we exterminate them?" "Well, its only expected," Richard scoffed. “They’re dangerous animals.” Gwen swallowed twice in quick succession. Richard wasn’t wrong, but she was reluctant to concede the point. “Think about it.” Richard pointed to an enormous female carcass Lulan was crudely vivisecting like a lioness ferreting for offal. “How can creatures whose primary preoccupation is to feed, reproduce, and expand: co-exist with us, whose primary preoccupation is to feed our kin, spread our territory, and ensure our continued dominion? Don't you think peaceful co-existence is contradictory to either of our reasons for being?” “But…” Gwen sighed. She had no persuasive answers, not when her old world gleefully engaged in genocide over trivialities like minor differences in religious texts. From the Mongolians incursions to the British Empire, from the Holocaust to the war in Yemen, human history had rarely if ever conspired for mercy. If there was a single immutable truth that defined humanity, it was that scene from Full Metal Jacket, the one where a Colonel grilled Private Joker: "You write 'Born to Kill' on your helmet, and you wear a Peace Button? What’s that supposed to be, some kind of sick joke?" The scene had stayed with her all these years. The duality of man: the Jungian thing. Was it that simple though? “It's that simple, Gwen.” Richard appeared to have read her mind. “Don’t worry your pretty, tier 6 Lightning head about it.” Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Gwen snorted bitterly. Don’t think?! Easier said than done! “You overthink.” As if to make his point, Richard petted Gwen's head. Gwen annoyedly brushed off her cousin's intrusive hand. “You know, I wonder,” her cousin noted sardonically. “What do you suppose happens when we’re on the losing side? Mercy, perhaps?” “…” Gwen couldn't counter that hypothesis either. “SIX CORES!” Lulan was in desperate need of another Prestidigitation, though the girl was clearly too ecstatic to care. “GOOD WORK PERCY!” Kusu turned to Gwen. “Percy's our lucky charm, huh?” “Yep, you got it.” Gwen cracked a wane smile, shaking herself from her induced stupor. “My boy brings all the Cores to the yard.” At nightfall, the team camped atop the swollen lair, with Petra setting up Wards and Gwen arranging her dogs for guard duty. She had to retrieve Ariel as they entered the Portable Habitat, meaning the alpha Deerhound was now in charge of the pack. According to Chen, her inexpert conjuration should last a good twenty-four hours, meaning there was at least another twenty odd hours left: more than enough for the team to get a good night’s sleep. The gang settled into the habitat, with the girls sharing the master bedroom; Richard having a guest room to himself; Percy having the other, and Kusu offering to sleep on the couch. As the boys prepared dinner, Gwen meditated for a short while, inspecting her gains for the day. Though individually robust, the Water Ghosts were 'essentially' Demi-human simians with an affinity for Water, measuring unimpressively on the Nephres scale. After snacking on six or so of the buggers, Gwen's Vitality had reached a satisfying state of satiation, albeit nothing like the brimming, supernatural haleness she had gained from the Draconic-creatures. For a moment during their last fight, she had considered the dangerous idea of having Percy use his Drain Life, but ultimately the number one and two rules of the Persecrecy Club reigned. “Time to eat!” Richard called out after half an hour. Gwen found herself at the head of the table. “Our MVP.” Richard chuckled, raising a glass. “To Gwen!” “TO GWEN!” “Good work, Gwen!” “Sis~!” “Thanks, everyone.” Gwen toasted back, well within her element. "You guys are the reason everything is going so well. Here's to you!" "Cheers!" the group toasted again. “Sis, your artillery spells are amazing.” Percy sighed dreamily. “Lightning is the best.” “Hey, your Salt is only going to get better. You haven’t seen Dad kick ass in Singapore. He was very impressive, more powerful than me, certainly.” “That sounds promising, especially coming from you.” Percy raised his glass. "Ha!" Gwen snorted. "Did your elite high school teach you to be a flatterer?" Richard soon passed the giant pot of curry. Gwen spooned out enough to fill her bowl, an impressive salad bow, half-filled with rice. Even though she was feeling happily vital, her boosted metabolism had woes of its own. The group made chit-chatter about the events of the day, discussing how they would proceed tomorrow. Richard expressed that he had mapped out the first level or so of the lair, and that they would be advancing straight to the second. All in all, he suspected six layers of criss-crossing tunnels and caverns. “It’ll be Lea and Caliban’s turn to shine,” Richard ruminated aloud. “Lulan too. I don’t think Ariel’s earth-shattering AOE is going to do us any favours in a tunnel system. It'll be two abreast at best.” “I’ll have Ariel bring up top,” Gwen agreed. "Let's hope the ceiling's not too low." “EE!!” Ariel too was eating from a bowl, though the curry was proving excessively pungent for its sensitive nose. It kept sneezing, which was adorable indeed. “Here.” Lulan materialised something in her hand and threw it at Ariel. The offending object was a length of knotted meat in the shape of a generous shank. “You bought meat?” Gwen was surprised because Lulan had explicitly stated she had brought no supplies. “It’s from those Monkeys.” Lulan wiped her hands, returning to her bowl as Ariel tore into the flesh. “Ah.” Gwen took a few more spoonfuls of curry. Watching Ariel chow down, a nascent paranoia began to build in her chest. “Richard.” Gwen stirred her curry softly. “What meat is this?” Richard blinked. “Bushmeat,” her cousin replied. “Oh, thank God.” Gwen breathed out. “Ha! For a moment there, I was sure you were going to say M…” She noticed her party was staring at her strangely. Petra pulled herself from her seat. “I’ll get the napkins.” The Russian reached for the paper towels. Gwen looked down at her curry-gumbo. In her haste, she had eaten half a salad bowl. She should have known. Only curry could overpower the gamy taste. A vision of a Water Ghost's babe clinging onto a pair of hairy old teats flashed across her mind. “Dimension Door!” Gwen reappeared inside the kitchen, projectile vomiting into the sink. “You see that?” Richard remarked to Percy. “See that control? Now that’s fuck’n impressive!” The next morning, Gwen gleefully ate three servings of SPAM. Glorious ignorance! Such ambiguous taste! Not even the ingredient label divulged its secrets. The processed meat put Gwen's mind at ease. Lulan and Petra had spent the night convincing her eating Bushmeat wasn't cannibalism. Gwen switched to her skinsuit, ensuring she wouldn't blind Percy and scar him for life if she had to Void Skin. When the party re-emerged, Gwen’s Deerhounds greeted them. The dogs were almost at their limits, so Gwen dismissed them in order to re-engage the spell. Unfortunately, her lack of sleep had taken a toll on her concentration, and she only succeeded on her third try. “Sorry," Gwen apologised. Her recovery time meant the whole party had to wait for her. “It’s fine.” Richard tapped his temple. “But from here on out, FOCUS. Our lives are in your hands.” “I know,” Gwen promised. “Petra, if you would, please.” "Bless!" "Aid!" "Resist Element!" "Water Breathing!" Petra buffed the party. She had enough for two forays, more than enough. “Alright folks, here’s how we proceed…” With Gwen’s dogs now in play, Richard decided to change up their initial strategy. The Deerhounds would lead scouting incursions into the splits and partitions that made up the lair, telepathically reporting back to Ariel if they found anything interesting. Meanwhile, the party would proceed forward as one down the main artery as far as they could before Lulan had to Stone Shape and Earthquake to create new paths. The idea was to pick up as many Water Ghosts as the party could manage in a round trip. The interior of the cavern grew spacious once Lulan Stone Shaped the entrance, widening the granite so that the party could pass easily. Gwen’s dogs disappeared into the dark, the soft pattering of their paws splattering like pelting rain as they streamed through the cavern. As expected, the Water Ghosts were exceptional ambush predators. Utilising their innate water-Blink abilities, they erupted from the sodden walls and mossy undergrowth to attack the party. Concurrently, the tunnels were filled with traps: envenomed barbs, diseased spikes, saplings tipped with malignant growth, as well as toxic fauna that laired in small crags. Every so often, Ariel reported that the dogs were bringing back a host of their simian quarry, too incensed by the hounds' presence to remain in hiding. The party would lay an ambush by having Gwen warding the entrance with Lightning Tentacles, or when there was enough time, Petra would set immobilisation Warding Glyphs, and Gwen, her Faithful Hound. Their progress remained fruitful for the better half of a day, harvesting dozens of Monkeys each encounter, which Gwen disturbingly acknowledged as 'family' units within the tribe. There were a few precarious calls as well, such as when a section of the cavern suddenly collapsed, sending Gwen and Lulan tumbling. Thankfully, Gwen had on her Boots of Flying, not to mention both of the girls had their Blink or Dimension Door equivalents should the need arise. Another time, the Water Ghosts attempted to flush the party into an ambush by sacrificing one of their own as a lure. Taking Richard’s advice, Gwen sent a Barbanginy Elemental Sphere into the adjacent chamber, collapsing the entire thing altogether. Lulan collected body parts via her Stone Shape. “Lulu, open a passage downward from here, let’s see if we can go deeper, we're getting close to the centre.” “Okay!” The party advanced steadily. Percy's’ amulet warmed his chest against the cold murk. Beside him, Lulan’s Large Storage Ring bulged with reclaimed heads and harvested Cores. Their pace persisted until one of Gwen’s dogs returned with a souvenir. “EEee! EE!” Ariel notified the party. “Shaaa!” Caliban sniffed what the Deerhound had dragged back. “Oh no…” Lea floated closer to the Mages. “Ariel says the dogs found a person.” Where the endless slaughter had numbed the party, the unwelcome news now reinvigorated their interest. A person? Gwen knelt to see as her hound padded toward them. ‘Plop!’ Her Deerhound deposited a limb. It was a human hand. “Fuck!” Gwen took a step back, her nerves taut enough to play a sound. The hand looked like it had been gnawed off. Did her dog do it? Were her Draconic-Deerhounds man-eating? “EEE!” “No, not the dogs,” Lea translated, with Gwen gladly exhaling. “They found someone another layer down.” The party regarded one another cautiously. "We need to find out if there are people down there," Gwen urged. "Maybe they're alive? Victims captured by the Water Ghosts?" "That's unlikely," Petra pointed out. "The Ghosts we saw were starving." "Waste of time." Kusu appeared adverse detouring as well. “Okay, we vote.” Richard pointed downwards. “Who wants to see if there’s someone alive down there?” “Aye.” “Aye.” “Aye.” “Nay.” “Nay.” Petra and Kusu’s ‘Nay’ made Gwen recoil. “A good rule of thumb,” Petra educated her young companion. “Is to never deviate from a planned route in a Dungeon. We need to work through the warrens systematically, not go traipsing after a dead man.” “I concur.” Kusu shrugged off Lulan’s bulging eyeballs. “Keep to our task. We’ll find this man or woman or not: it’s just a matter of time.” “I shall abstain.” Richard nodded. “By majority, we find the owner of this hand. Objections?” “None,” Petra answered without hesitation. “I am fine with it,” Kusu conceded as well. Even as the tension in her chest yielded to relief, Gwen couldn’t help but notice the heat in her cheeks. There was a bit of guilt, a dash of pride, and a mixture of less than cordial sentiments lashing out at cruel Kusu and his partner in crime, pragmatic Petra. More worryingly, Gwen knew that had the nays won; her first reaction would be to launch into oratory rather than affirm the consensus. If so, did that make her a terrible team member? If the party could not proceed without her, could she then hold that over them, driving them into danger? She was overthinking again, Gwen realised. But she couldn’t help herself. Such a test was sure to arise one day, especially if they were to work with Seniors from Fudan for the IIUC. Could she handle it if they told her to act otherwise in a morally ambiguous circumstance? Was team cohesion more critical than principles? “Stone Shape!” Lulan’s mastery of the Earthen element was as impressive as ever. Now descending to a lower system of caverns and warrens, the party continued their foray. Gwen's Deerhound took the lead, followed by Lea, parting the water, dismantling the traps and blasting lines of lightning down dark holes. Caliban brought up the rear with Kusu, shielding Petra and Percy from harm. Finally, Ariel floated above their heads. Along the way, three other dogs joined the march. By now, the other hounds had strayed too far from the party and so were ordered to stay put. After a few more stray Monkeys and a dozen bobby traps, the party came to a small cavern with clear signs of industry. To their surprise, Gwen recognised the evidence of crude furniture, stone tools and other stolen bits of flotsam and jetsam collected from the Water Ghost’s victims. “Grrr…” Her Deerhound growled. The rearmost hounds pushed past the party and took up their positions at the fore, joined by Ariel and Lea. “Invisible Familiar!” “Lea! Vapor Form.” Lea dispersed herself to effect a pseudo-invisibility, while Ariel took its cue from Gwen’s Illusion incantation. The two familiars entered the dark cavern while the party readied offensive and defensive spells. “There’s a pile of equipment in there, clothing and such,” Richard reported, possessing the sole Familiar capable of both empathic link and human speech. “Looks like a larder to me. A rather fruitless larder.” “…” The party held its breath. “… it’s not looking good.” Richard breathed out after a while. “Lea says she's found the owner of our wayward hand. He’s dead.” A solemn air descended over the group. “There’s… a few victims in there. Emergency supplies, I guess.” Richard turned toward the party. “I think it is best not to go in. Nobody wants to see this stuff.” How rare for Richard to be so sensitive, Gwen pondered: the same Richard who delighted in opening her eyes to every horror from faux-cannibalism to mass murder. If so, what the fuck could be in there? “I want to see,” Gwen insisted. “Richard, I think I need to see this.” Richard stepped aside. Their eyes met. “You knew I was going to say that, didn’t you?” Gwen chided her cousin, her accusation cattier than she’d anticipated. In a work environ, the advantage of knowing someone too well could be a complication in itself, especially when it came to situations like this. Gwen had suspected that Richard DID give a shit about her giving a shit about the simian women and children and that he was trying to deliver yet another one of his ‘corrective’ therapies. “Just prepping you for the big one," Richard affirmed her suspicion. "I am serious though, its a fucked up display. The choice is yours, but no one can be ready for shit like this. With your sensitivity, I don't know..." Because YOU know better? Gwen suppressed the irritation engendering in her chest. How presumptuous of Richard to think- Gwen’s thoughts seized at once. They had entered a large, airy cavern. As anticipated, it was a pantry of sorts. But the place looked to Gwen more akin to a torture chamber. Or perhaps, an abattoir. Crude hooks had been fashioned out of rusted farming implements. Upon the hooks, hanging like a slab of beef at a butcher’s window, was the owner of the hand. The corpses were expertly dressed: an arm here, a leg there. The torso was butterflied, the body split with a sharp implement. A thick layer of salt covered the dark flesh, like jamón serrano. In the darkness, all Gwen and her companions could hear was the sound of their breathing. “Grrr…” “Grrr…Grrr” “GRRRRR…” Her dogs’ growling grew in intensity until their throaty warning filled the cavern. “We got company.” Richard readied his multiple Shields. “Petra, Wall up. They were probably waiting for us. If so, this is the big one, likely the ruler of the cavern. Lea, clear all the water in a twenty-meter radius.” “Crystal Barrier!” A semi-dome of crystal blossomed into place, its exterior lined with jagged, glassy teeth, enveloping Petra and Percy. “Caliban!” Gwen commanded her Familiar. Caliban oozed a coat of void-slime, then sunk into the wall, coiling its body. “Void Tentacles!” “Lightning Tentacles!” “Wrrrof!” “Wrrf!” “GRRR!” Gwen's Deerhounds were now in a frenzy. ‘SPLASH!’ Twenty-odd meters away, a small tidal wave of water leapt from cavern floor without warning, rushing toward the party with enough force to dash apart their formation. “LEA!” The wall of brackish white-water parted as if commanded by the Prophet Moses, passing the party, leaving them unmolested. Immediately following the chaotic deluge's passing, figures formed in the darkness. A dozen, no, two dozen Water Ghosts surrounded them both back and front, having Blinked into existence in the wake of the deluge. “It's their Water Priest,” Richard spat. “Finally, we’re getting somewhere! This is the big one!” “Petra!” Lulan called out. Petra was way ahead of Lulan. “Mass Heroism!” The golden glow of the Enchantment School suffused the party, dissolving all fatigue, strengthening their bodies and dispelling all fear. Precariously, the application of Heroism was a double-edged blade, for the Mages would remain fearless until the spell’s resolution. “Caliban-” “Wait-“ Richard halted Gwen before she could give the command for Caliban to Stag-form. “Save Cali for the Priest. Creatures possessing magical abilities are far more likely to produce Cores with a Spirit.” “But what if-“ “Don’t worry. Lea is here.” Richard smirked with confidence. “As am I. We need to show these animals the price of hunting humankind.” At the thought of the preserved corpses, concentric rings of electricity circulated brightly in Gwen’s pupils until her eyes were shimmering in the dim darkness. With great pain, the Lightning sorceress forced herself to look away from the slabs of human flesh. "Suffer not our enemies to live!" Lulan spat vehemently; the girl had been doubly affected by the horrid sight, so much that she was sprouting CCP propaganda slogans. “Yes.” Gwen's voice took on a cold, unyielding edge. “Not a single one."

Four Ball-Lightnings erupted in the midst of the screeching swarm, expanding until they compassed the entirety of the chamber’s passageway. “SCREEIII!” “YIP! YIP! EEEIII!” “SCRIIIII!” Insane, baboon-like howls pervaded the cavern, rebounding across every nook and cranny. Even under the robust influence of Heroism, Gwen's bones shivered. She could see why the expedition was considered so dangerous. The psychological pressure exerted by the Monkeys became amplified in the cramped, confined space and could even unnerve hardened Battle Mages. In retribution, Gwen sent a swell of Almudj's Essence into Ariel, suppressing the simian horde's howling with a burst of Dragon-fear. Much to her dismay, the frenzied Water Ghosts surged past their fallen comrades undaunted, suds dribbling from diseased gums. “The Monkeys have a battle-buff active!” Lulan placed herself as the groups’ spearhead, her lithe figure silhouetted against the frothing bodies bull-rushing the party. “Wall of Water!” Since arriving in Shanghai, Richard had been tinkering with both Conjuration and his Abjuration. In particular, lacking the freedom to disburse CCs, he instead improved synergy. “Warding Tendrils!” Gwen's Conjurer-Abjurer companion had the tier 4 water barrier pre-loaded, and now he added a tier 2 snare, empowered and maximised by Lea's innate affinity. As the first of their assailants broke through the Wall of Water, the creatures' passage became impeded by viscous tendrils snapping at the creature's arms and legs, dragging the Monkeys backwards. “Lightning Bolt!” Gwen incanted, then concurrently, she fired off a second volley through the empowered Ariel, careful as to avoid collapsing the overhead cavern. “Barbanginy!” The surging horde finally wavered, initially on behalf of the Dragon-Fear flooding through the chamber like an invisible tsunami, then doubly so when two viridescent bolts, thicker than Lulan’s waist, impossibly bent around the Sword Mage’s body to strike into the midst of their assailants. “Good JOB!” Lulan hollered, feeling every hair rise on her iron-clad dermis, alive with static. “SWEEP!” With a gesture, an enormous hunk of gleaming iron carved through the howling horde of Water Ghosts, splitting two of the weakened creatures in half before sending a third fatally into the wall. “DIE! DIE! DIE!” Lulan leapt into the fray, a whirling dervish of bladed death, all caution diminished by the pulsing Heroism filling her body with fiery adrenaline. “SWEEP! PIERCE! HA!” “LULU! CONTROL YOURSELF!” Kusu hollered from the rear. He and Petra had no problems keeping four Monkeys at bay while Percy peppered them with Salt Shards. But Lulan couldn't care less about Kusu's warning. Buffed by Heroism, Aid, Bless, and her innate assortment of secretive enhancements, she felt invulnerable, knowing no fear as she acrobatically dashed, flipped, Misty-Stepped and twisted through the air, dismembering enemies left and right. “Worry not, champ. I’ve got her covered,” Richard assured Lulan's paranoid brother. Two more Monkeys broke through the wall, heedless of the horde's losses. Immediately, Gwen’s Deerhounds engaged the creatures. “Damn that’s useful.” Richard focused instead on forcing the creatures toward Lulan. That had been their usual tactic before Gwen joined. Lulan acted the meat grinder, while Richard used his battlefield control to throw her tasty morsels to be sliced and diced. “!” Gwen’s Divination pinged. “Richard! 11 O’Clock!” “LEA!” Richard had been waiting for the Priest to act. He couldn’t sense the incoming jet of super-pressurised water, but Lea could. “Shield STACK!” Not one but two Shields opened up in quick succession, Richard initiated the first layer, then Lea the second. A jet-blast of brackish water hammered the foremost Shield, shattering its liquid membrane. Lea’s thick and fast-flowing underlayer then caught the remaining draft, diverting it downward, sending the stream back into the Elemental Plane of Water. Taking advantage of the Water Abjurer's industrious defence, three more Water Ghost managed to flank the party. One attempted to sneak attack Lulan as she contended with two snarling specimens still stuck in Richard’s tendriled Wall of Water. “Void Bolt!” Gwen’s lethal bolt caught the ambushing Monkey in its lower torso. Unlike higher-order beings, lowly Demi-humans such as the Water Ghosts lacked the magical resistance of genuinely powerful Magical Creatures. Her Void matter consumed itself as it struck, shearing off the creature’s lower body, leaving a pair of dangling limbs to hover comically before clattering wetly onto the granite. “Richard! The Priest is making his move!” Lea warned. “Gwen!” Richard’s Wall of Water exploded, overpowered by the superior control of the Demi-human caster. The trapped Monkeys, half a dozen of them, scattered toward the party, some rebounding from the ceiling, others leaping forward, thrown by the momentum of the blast. Gwen's dogs moved to engage. "Dagger Wall!" Kusu blocked off either side of the party's flank with a swarm of magical implements, swimming through the air like shoals of silvery fish. "Petra!" Kusu called for support. Petra had things well in hand. "Sword WALL!" The four Water Ghosts attempting to waylay the party's rearguard had counted themselves lucky when Kusu's daggers moved elsewhere, only to be caught once again in a wall of whirling crystalline shards. Curiously, the incantation originally belonged to Kusu. Petra had been experimenting with Cubing the Clanner's spells, as she had always done when new styles of Magic became available. Unfortunately, her Spellcubes were sporadic at best when working with magic outside the Imperial System. After weeks of trial and error, only Kusu's Dagger Wall managed to fit into one of her crystalline cubes. With both Mages' spells active and the hounds in melee, the party's rear had been secured; their flanks likewise warded for the moment. Gwen knew the opening would last only a few brief seconds. "CALIBAN!" She felt weightless as the vitality stowed in her body fed into her Familiar. Caliban burst from the ground directly behind Lulan, sailed overhead, then began its polymorphic transformation into an avatar of the dark goat who must not be named. Behind Gwen's Familiar, Caliban's companions continued their bombardment. “SWEEP!” Lulan flung an enormous hunk of polished iron into the Monkey's midst, before she Misty Stepped into the aether, appearing behind Richard a split-second later. “Lightning Bolt!” A line of Lightning cleared the path ahead. Caliban's serpent-form bloated, needle-like legs sprouted, a nova of tenebrous energy expanded from Caliban’s body. Fresh obsidian carapace snapped into place; spiralled horns grew like thorny saplings. As Caliban lowered its head for the charge, ebony Void matter flowed beneath the semi-opaque armour like inky blood. Without a sound, Caliban plunged into the wall of cascading water, skewering three of the hooting Ghosts with its horns. Gwen desperately circulated Almudj’s Essence, attempting to reclaim her pound of lost flesh. She had enough remaining to sustain herself, though the magnitude of Caliban's toll inferred that a draconic-stag was best fueled with draconic-tier essence. “LEA! DO IT NOW!” Richard commanded his familiar. The Water Mage had been waiting for this very moment. Lea materialised in her Undine form, drawing greedily from Richard's reserves. The risen crest of brackish swamp-water which had acted as the Water Priest’s shelter and vehicle parted with a violence that surprised both Caliban and its target. In the next split-second, every mote of free-flowing liquid returned to the Elemental Plane of Water. Richard staggered to one knee, having to catch his breath as his mana pool tanked. Lea's Undine abilities remained far beyond his ability to sustain. A mana potion injector appeared in his off-hand, violently stabbing downwards. Comparatively, there was no respite for their enemy. The now exposed Water Priest was a corpulent sight, a fat, bloated Water Ghost covered from head to toe with shells, river-weed, and algae, wearing a necklace of blue-green orbs of unknowable origin. Completely caught off guard, its rotten maw opened wide, issuing forth oily spittle. “NOW!” Gwen commanded. She had no idea how much an actual activation of Caliban’s new ability would cost. “ONSLAUGHT!” If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Caliban carried through the momentum of its charge, cleaving into the Water Priest with the same gusto it had shown the foot soldiers. “SCREEEEEIII!” The Priest shrieked. The orb necklace at its chest gleamed. The air grew heavy with moisture. Beads of limewater began to form all over Caliban's smooth carapace. “SHAAAA!” Caliban made a muffled shriek halfway between a neigh and a scream. Its tentacle-horns shot their payload, penetrating the Water Priest a dozen times over. There was a moment of tension, then the Priest's body lost all vigour. With a wet smack, Caliban tossed its quarry and its precious victims against a wall. It reared, then stabbed downward with its stiletto forelegs, ramming into the creature’s chest with such force that the Priest transformed into a butterfly collector's specimen. “SHAAAA!” Caliban's horn-tendrils hatched into bloodworms voraciously ferreting for flesh, bloating the Priest' chest cavity and swelling its stomach. Revoltingly, the massive Water Ghost become suddenly pregnant. “Petra! Get Percy closer!” Richard urged Petra to salvage their loot. Gwen hung onto consciousness via a thread of Almudj’s Essence. Caliban’s new onslaught wasn’t something as simple as a hasted melee assault, such as in its spider form, it was a simultaneous shape-shift involving sixteen lamprey-tipped tendrils. “GET CLOSE TO IT?!” Percy baulked. “THAT THING?!” The remaining Monkeys appeared stunned by the sudden death of their worshipful leader, their frenzied enhancement diminishing at once. Sensing an opportunity, Lulan Misty-stepped toward the four which had harassed their rear, hewing away while her brother provided cover, corralling the beasts into pens consisting of swirling daggers. Gwen's dogs made short work of the survivors. Caliban meanwhile, acknowledged its master’s desire. With a kick of its powerful hind limbs, it withdrew its stiletto hooves. Caliban then trotted back toward the party, wearing the dying Water Priest like a trophy-crown. Percy’s legs were chow mien by now, partly because of the ragdoll Priest, and partly due to the dozen or so writhing lamprey's mouths popping in and out of the Priest's carcass like a game of blast-a-mole. The amulet hungrily drank in the extract provided by the simian Priest’s passing. Looming above Percy's ashen face, Caliban hollowed out the body of the grotesque Water Ghost, crunching through blood, bone, sinew and viscera with equal ease. Furthermore, as if performing a rite of the Old Ones, Gwen’s familiar swung its head to and fro, sending out sprays of blood like incense smoke from a censer. Then it began to coo. "SHAAA! SHAAaaAAA! SHAAA!" The remaining Water Ghosts routed. “Oh NO, you don’t!” Richard had recovered enough mana to reactivate his tendrils, pulling the Water Ghosts back toward the party. Half-covered in gore and half blinded by blood splatters, Lulan burst through Richard’s Shield and set to work. Kusu joined from a distance, ensuring that the beasts could not take advantage of her carelessness. A hot flush of vitality injected into Gwen's body. “Oh shit.” She turned toward Petra. “Help me!” Understanding Gwen's laconic plea, Petra caught Gwen in her arms just as her sister-in-battle began to convulse, shaking with the infused vigour. “I am okay,” Gwen spat between clenched teeth. “Hold me up... OEGH!” She almost bit her tongue. All she could now was ride the lightning and wait for it to pass. The Water Priest had been potent indeed. Though its essence was low-born and contemptible, the sensation registered at least a 5 on her Nephres Index. To Gwen’s supreme embarrassment, her cousin held Gwen in her arms as she dug her face into Petra’s shoulder, hiding her scarlet mien. Luckily, Caliban had an MBA in providing distractions. Having finished its meal, it deposited a Water-Priest skin-suit, largely intact, at the feet of an aghast Kusu, a doubly impressed Richard, and a pant-shitting Percy. “Strewth!” Richard cursed. Then unable to find the words, he swore again. “Fuck'n oath.” “Wocao…” Kusu fought back his breakfast. “Lulu… don't look!” Lulan returned, sweaty perspiration mingling with Monkey blood from head to toe, plastering the sheer fabric of her dress to her iron-enamel skin. She panted heavily, her chest rising and falling as the adrenaline drained from her body. Her slicked hair oozed a viscous, wine-like fluid that could only be congealed core. Behind her, they could see Gwen's dogs tearing the rest to pieces. “THAT…” Lulan cooed, marvelling at the new 'rug'. “...WAS AMAZING.” Not knowing if the Water Priest was the ‘Master’ of the Lair or if something greater lurked in the depth of the Dungeon, Richard counselled the party to rest. There was a toll to Heroism, the least of which was aching bones and knotted muscles. “Are we heading back up?” Gwen inquired. Richard shook his head. “We rest here.” In the interim, the party took account of the Sword Mage's gory harvest. "Eureka!" Richard loudly applauded the discovery. A Spirit-Core! Unfortunately, it wasn’t the core of the Water Priest, a sizable fortune at tier 6, but rather the strange necklace it wore. After a quick Identify, Petra informed the group that the necklace was crafted entirely from the Cores of its kin. The group stared at the necklace, aghast. What could lead the Demi-humans to self-cannibalising one another for Cores? “The power is concentrated here.” Petra’s finger indicated to the central orb. They had no idea if an item crafted by Demi-human could be disassembled and sold, but it was sure to be worth a pretty penny, especially if Mayuree and the House of M were involved. "We made a lot of commotion, are you sure its safe here?" Gwen wasn't convinced they were now safe. “The stragglers won’t dare.” Richard pointed to the pile of decaying corpses. Gwen's cousin had been fiddling with some contraption the whole time Lulan looted. “I made a no trespassing warning.” The party's attention turned toward a dark shape situated atop the pile of bodies discarded by Lulan. "Dancing Lights!" Feeble, watery lights danced around the small hill of mutilated corpses. “What?!!” Gwen spluttered. Both horrified and fascinated, the group silently scrutinised the eerie visage of a stuffed scarecrow made from the discarded skin of the Water Priest. It had been hung on a crude iron cross, its loop-sided face ghastly and grinning. "I made the cross." Lulan raised her hand, expecting praise. Percy let loose a gut full of ejecta once again. “I’d say we’re pretty safe here,” Richard reiterated. “I am exercising the Water Ghost's tribal customs. When the families go to war, the winner often takes the losers from the opposing tribe, then dresses them as totems to mark territorial boundaries.” "When in Rome, huh?" Gwen chided her grinning cousin. "Is this place safe? The cavern I mean." “Of course. We're in a natural cathedral; it's all ancient limestone.” Richard pointed a finger upwards. “Lulan can Stone Shape a ledge; we’ll make a cavity like so… then we’ll pop your Portable Habitat. We can rest up for a few hours to restore our mana.” The party collectively regarded the scarecrow once again. While they understood the logic of the boundary totem, they couldn’t bring themselves to swallow the fact that Richard had crafted such a thing without so much as a grimace. “Are we in agreement?" Richard remained in high spirits. "We can vote as well, any takers?" Standing beside Gwen, Petra whispered in Gwen's ear. “Perhaps Richard should take a break,” her cousin advised. "He's like a factory spring about to snap." “He IS a little strung, I agree.” Gwen watched her cousin go about his business. Richard was a little ruthless, and his idea of ethics was skewered, but he had always done her right. Hopefully, once he'd made good on his promise to his parents, he could unwind. “I wouldn't worry about it too much, Pats. Dick's a top bloke. His heart’s in the right place.” Petra looked away. "I hope you're right." Petra watched her cousin tussle with her Familiars, an unexpected epiphany slowly blossoming within her mind like a rare flower. For a while now, Petra and her Master had attempted to pinpoint the physiological and psychological trait of the Void Element. Their initial hypothesis was that a supernatural hunger was the root of the Void’s Mage’s affinity, a sort of insatiable desire to fulfil a perpetual sense of emptiness. Magister Wen had even pointed out, rationally so, that Gwen possessed an unusual appetite for affirmation and acceptance, bending herself backwards for recognition. Jokingly, Petra had once asserted that an undeniable streak of masochism shrouded Gwen’s philosophy. Take the incident of when they had first worked together in Hengsha Island. Some stupid yokel had attempted to harm Richard, resulting in Gwen taking off her head. The girl then beat herself - that was when Petra had felt sympathetic enough for her cousin to open up to Gwen and share something of herself. After that, there was the incident with babulya’s husband, Gwen’s grandfather. No matter how much Guo browbeat Gwen, she came back begging for more. And her brother as well, the snide little worm had stabbed Gwen in the back how many times? And yet, his sister wore his disloyalty like a badge! Happy for it! Mirthful that she hadn’t cut him off like a gangrene limb! Yebena mat’! Petra felt her thoughts snagging something just out of sight, reeling it closer with every thought. When they took Gwen to Tianlanqiao, Gwen could have killed the old man and gotten the hell out, but no! She had to subject herself to ten minutes of agonising, eye-watering carnage before she let herself go. Then her father! Petra reminded herself of the loathsome Hai Song. Gwen had inexplicably returned to her selfish moo-DAK of a father and subjected herself to a level of humiliation Petra could scarcely imagine. Wearing that scandalous dress, fighting for the Songs, putting herself in danger over and over, all for what? And she was doing it now as well! Feeling sympathy for the female simians and their young, didn’t she know that these Demi-humans ate people?! Only when they saw the poor sods made into salted flanks did Gwen fly off the rails. It was as though the girl delighted in agony... "!" Puzzle pieces clicked into place. Could it be? Petra wondered. Was it that simple? SELF-HARM! That's the trait afflicting Void Affinity! Gwen suffered debilitating energy-drains whenever she used her abilities, offset only by her unnatural luck in acquiring a divine essence! When the girl had fallen into her arms earlier, convulsing and quivering, Petra had considered the answer there and then. Suffering and PLEASURE! It was all starting to make a sick sort of sense! NO wonder Void Mages killed themselves more often than not. The Void! The fucking VOID’s physiological and psychological phenomenon, she’d figured it out! It wasn’t hunger! It wasn’t gluttony either! It was self-harm! It was self-taught Masochism! Her husky-blue eyes glowed with recognition as she observed Gwen, who had been roused from her Familiar-playtime to regard Petra strangely. "Pats?" Filled with sympathy, Petra reached downward and hugged Gwen about the shoulders, even as another disturbing thought rose to meet her conscience. How does one ethically go about ratifying her findings, knowing Gwen was a glutton for punishment? Gwen couldn’t help but feel that Petra had engendered a significant misunderstanding. When she said that Richard was an alright bloke, she wasn’t defending her cousin’s lack of compassion or empathy, but rather pointing out the factual reality that Richard had never done anything to endanger herself or the party, and that they should forgive his sometimes off-putting idiosyncrasy. "Pats?" Unexpectedly, Petra reached over and embraced her warmly. Aww, how nice. Gwen hugged her back. Petra continued to warm up to her nicely, and that made Gwen happy. Looking around her Habitat, she saw that everyone else was taking a breather. Lulan was taking a shower; Gwen discerned that she could use one as well. Richard remained his usual spotless self, probably thanks to Lea, while Kusu meticulously cleaned his implements, a ritual the Sword Mage carried out after every battle. “You alright, Percy?” Gwen caught her brother staring at the grey expanse outside. “Yeah.” Percy watched her for a second before his brain kicked back in. “I guess I never realised your battles were so… intense...” You think that's intense?! You should try fighting a Thunder Wyvern, Gwen chuckled internally, smiling a secret smile. “Blood and guts aside, are you enjoying yourself?” Percy touched a hand to his amulet. “I suppose I am.” He beamed back at his sister. “I am learning a lot. Thanks, Sis. I appreciate what you guys are doing for me.” “Hey, you’re helping us as well. Just wait till we get back with the loot! I wonder how much that Spirit will sell.” “Assuming someone can still use it.” “Of course.” Gwen poured herself a cup of tea, offering one to Percy. The siblings nursed their cups as each member of the party went about their business. “Eee! EE!” “!” A sharp stab at the base of her skull tore Gwen from the calming Zen of her astral meditation. Ariel was lividly gesticulating in front of her face, huffing and puffing madly. She could feel its anger gnawing at their empathic link. “Shaaa!” Caliban, seeing Ariel’s agitation, grew excited as well. “What happened?” Petra opened her eyes. The girls were meditating together in the master bedroom. “Trouble?” Lulan stretched, making spirit fingers. Gwen herself was incredulous at the news relayed by Ariel. “Someone destroyed one of my Deerhounds!” she spluttered in disbelief. “A Water Ghost?” “No!” Gwen spat. “A MAGE!”

The party assembled outside, restored and refreshed. Gwen packed the Portable Habitat before listening to Richard's proposal. “I took the Quest,” Richard explained to his companions. “Meaning until we’re back or reported missing, no one else can take the Quest for at least two weeks.” “Quest poachers?” Petra hypothesised. “Likely.” Richard wore a carefree expression, though the coldness in his voice may as well be the fathomless depth of the Elemental Plane of Water. “You know, I am curious as to who dares infringe upon our CCs and our HDMs.” “What’s the jurisdiction if they’re poachers?” Gwen asked. “We poach ‘em, broil ‘em and grill ‘em.” Lulan was all teeth. “At least that’s what my Clan used to do to Rogue Mages.” "I prefer robbing 'em blind." Richard gave Lulan a thumb of approval. “She means we have to confront them, confirm their intentions, then choose to escalate or retreat," Petra butted in. "If we fight them off, the Tower’s rulings are likely going to be on our side. If we retreat, we can lodge a formal complaint, and the Tower will deal with them as well.” “What if they don’t care? Or they agree and then carry on?” Percy asked. From what he had seen from school and high-society, he could hardly imagine a confrontation like this ending with a handshake and a heartfelt apology. “Ha!” Lulan was evidently an expert on the matter. “That’s where I come in.” “If they’re Rogue Mages, the Clan will use them to test our Acolytes, if they know what’s good for them, they’ll play along and come out with a broken arm or leg,” Kusu explained sheepishly. “In the case where the intruders are from another Sect or Clan, we take them prisoner and exchange them for crystals.” “That sounds reasonable.” Gwen motioned with a hand for their attention. "Everyone, please let me deal with this. Richard, do you mind if I take this one?" "Go ahead." Richard stepped back. "If you do decide to engage though, don't hold back." “I won't - oh, the hounds are coming back,” Gwen passed on the message from Ariel. “I’d dare say we’ll be seeing our poachers soon.” The pitter-patter of pawed feet soon filled the cavern as her dogs slinked back into view. Not wanting to be mistaken for a hidden ambush, the party assumed a defensive position, with Gwen’s hounds fanning out, forming a semi-circle. First came the sound of human footsteps, then the shadowy contour of a large man in his forties appeared, stepping into view from the smooth granite carved out by millennia of subterranean water. “Greetings.” Gwen raised a hand. “We’ll wait for the rest of your party.” The man performed a double-take as soon as his eye adjusted to the dancing lights illuminating cavern’s interior. “Cao!” the man spat. Behind him, three more men and a woman soon appeared. The woman was younger by far, while the men were all middle-aged. “Get out of the way,” the woman snapped, ordering her companions into the cavern without care. Gwen ran her eyes over the group. Her Detect Magic identifying the first man as an Earthen Abjurer, the second and third as a Fire and an Ice Evoker. The woman appeared to be an Enchanter of sorts, while the final man had an indistinct aura, akin to Lulan or Kusu, marking him as a bloodline Mage from a Clan. “Miss." The Abjurer swallowed nervously. “I guess we found that other party.” “You mean they found us,” the woman retorted cattily. “Uncle Wang, can you go and parley?” Gwen and her party watched as the Clanner Mage peeled from the group. “Hail.” Gwen stepped forward. “Noted,” the Clanner replied imperiously. “Who are you?” “We’re Fudan students assigned to the Quest in this Dungeon,” Gwen's expression possessed such friendliness that her companions' scalps crawled. They noted that Lea and Caliban were nowhere to be seen, which could only mean the two Familiars were watching the proceeding from somewhere advantageous. “Which begs the question, who are YOU and why are you here?” “Rrowff!” “Grrr!” "Rowf! Rowf! Rowf!" Gwen’s annoyance with the arrogant Mage directly translated into raw hostility from her dogs. She became aware that her lack of mastery also translated into unfiltered empathic links between Conjurer and Conjuration. The young woman caught sight of her hounds. “Hey!” she announced from the back. “Are those yours? One of them attacked us!” “Rrowff! Rrowff!” “Grrrr!” “Rrowff!!” “GRRRRR!” Gwen’s anger instantly leapt to an eleven. Attacked her party? What a stupid, blatant lie! Her dogs wouldn’t harm a soul unless provoked, and even when it had been attacked, her hound had attempted to return to her before it succumbed. Ariel wouldn't lie! “EEEE!!” Ariel’s whinnying echoed across the chamber. The hounds silenced at once. Striding on invisible footfalls, Ariel cat-walked from near the ceiling until it was standing directly above Gwen’s party. It's mane majestic and rippling as it swished its tail, drawing the viewer’s eyes toward its twin stag horns. The woman’s eyes bulged with astonishment, then burned with desire as she searched Gwen’s party for the Spirit's Master, stopping when it reached Gwen, whose pupils glowed with Divination. “That Kirin is wasted on someone like you,” the woman scoffed. “Where did you find it?” A fit of palpable affront circulated through Gwen in the form of sizzling displeasure discharging as Lightning. A part of her snickered with the knowledge that a Spirit could only be passed on between two intimately aligned parties, and almost never via force or coercion. The prideful part of her mind fumed over the woman’s callous remark. “Richard, NOTE that the offending party has refused my Parley. I shall now exercise our right to defend our claim to this lair and the Quest assigned to it. As a last reprieve, you have five seconds to present yourselves.” Gwen cut in abruptly. “ONE.” “How DARE YOU!” the peevish woman snapped. “Do you know where you are right now? Do you know who we are?” “TWO…” “WANG! Silence this insolent whelp!” “THREE…” “WANG!” “FOUR-“ “WAIT! We’re from the Nantong Fungs,” the Clanner interjected. “This is milady Yuhua Fung, third to the Household of Fung. We are her retainers.” Yuhua glared at her Clan Elder, furious that the old man had lost her 'face'. “That doesn’t mean much to us.” Richard smirked. “Prepare your Storage Rings. We're not holding back.” “YOU LITTL-” The woman was foolish enough to step forward. “EEEeeEEE!” "Awoo.." “AwoOOoo…” “AWOOOOoo…” “AwoooooOOOoo…” Ariel neighed, letting loose a whinny half-roar, half-shriek, joined by the howling of her dogs. A burst of Dragon-fear radiated from Ariel’s pseudo-Kirin figure, mimicking the Monkey's tactics, she filled the cavern with endless howling, smothering all speech. Even knowing Gwen's intent, Richard and company felt a shiver up their spine as cold perspiration permeated their back. Opposite, their intruders looked as though they'd witnessed a Death Knight cavalry charge. Caught by surprise, the two Evokers threw up, the Abjurer took on a deathly pallor, and their mistress’ contingency item triggered, forming a halo of amber Enchantment atop her head. Only the Clanner, Wang, bore the Dragon fear with dignity. “HOLD!” Wang intervened, he placed himself between Gwen and his party. “Mistress, you promised to leave things to me!” “Hmmph!” Yuhua turned away, her knees shaking as she fought to retain control of her body. “A-As you say, Uncle Wang.” Wang turned to Gwen’s party. “We’re searching for a missing adventuring party. My mistress's cousin is among them,” Wang explained. “Please, we mean you no harm.” “For how long were they missing?” “About three days,” the Elder recapped. “Three young men, a young woman, and a Senior Mage in his late thirties.” “Ariel!” Gwen retrieved her Almuldj’s Essence. Ariel floated over Gwen's head and laid its snout over her shoulders, its tentacle whiskers playing with her hair. "If that's the case, we have no conflict of interest," Gwen stated diplomatically, telling her dogs to tarry a safe distance away. "Richard, do you have the bodies we found?" Richard summoned Lulan. “Lulu?” Lulan materialised the carcasses the party had found the night before. The young woman from the Clan of Fung ogled the suddenly obscene sight, transfixed by the surreality that these could be people she had spoken to only days before, now made into salted encrusted rations. Elder Wang lifted one of the eyeless heads by the hair, bringing it up for examination. “It’s Jiao.” The old man sighed. “I dare say we have Weng and Qilu accounted for as well, which leaves us with Master Xie and Miss Lihong.” "There's a chance they're still alive-" Gwen continued optimistically. “Is there a reward for finding your Senior Mage?” Richard interrupted shamelessly, cutting Gwen off before she could offer their service for 'goodwill'. “Water Ghosts don’t kill themselves, you know. Frankly, I am surprised Miss Fung even made it this far. Were you going to do all the leg work, old man?” “Richard!” Gwen snapped. She suspected Richard was trying to goad the Fungs. “I am sorry, Miss Fung, Master Wang. You may retrieve the remains of your clansmen as you see fit.” Wang nodded solemnly, storing what remained of their Clan members. Gwen shot Richard a warning. Richard scratched his noise, looking elsewhere. “We will continue with our Quest,” Gwen informed the Nantong party. “How do you wish to proceed?” “May we join you?” Wang carefully enquired. "That's right! You can work for us!" Yuhua implored them. "We'll hire you." “I am afraid that is not possible.” Gwen shook her head as well. “There are precise tactics and methods we employ which would endanger you and Miss Fung. It would be to your detriment, I assure you.” This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. "I see," Wang acknowledged. "That's a shame." “Uncle - we need to find Lihong!” Yuhua interjected. She turned to Gwen's party. “What do you people want? HDMS? CCs-” “Gwen?” Richard tapped Gwen's skin-suit. "Come on. Currency is without sin..." “…” Yuhua and Magus Wang both looked over at Gwen’s Kirin and her host of draconic-hounds, trying to figure out why a Mage of such unfathomable talent and possessing such a rare Familiar was in a party starved for CCs and HDMs. “I’ll offer your party a Search and Rescue Quest for 400 HDMs and 50 CCs right now,” Yuhua declared. She then spat in her hand. "Well, shake on it?" Embarrassed, Wang urged his young miss to clean her hand. The girl had read too many novels. No one wanted to shake a spit-laden palm. “I am happy to look for your missing Clan members- BUT - my one condition is that until we return, you are to remain here. Is that agreeable?” “EEE!” Ariel gave another warning. The sound of her hounds’ panting filled the cavern. “Understood.” The Magus quickly made the call for his mistress. “We will wait here for the good news.” “Deal.” Gwen shot Richard a sympathetic look before shaking the girl's gobbed hand. She mentally praised Ariel for playing its part so well. Here was the first time she had truly tried out her militant pacifism, and the result proved more than promising. “I will have every hound searching every nook and cranny. Rest assured Miss Fung, Master Wang; we will find your companions.” Gwen turned to her party. “Alright, everyone, let’s move out.” "Rowf!" "Alright." "Rowf! " "Let's go!" "EE!" "SHAAA!" "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?" The Fung girl screeched. Gwen paused by the cavern's edge to reiterate the deal they had just made. "THAT... is the last thing you would have seen if you had fought us." “Who is that Sha-bi?!” Yuhua accosted her tutor and guardian with indignity, still shaking from her traumatic encounter with Caliban. “Doesn’t she know who we are? We own this place.” Her party had set up in the cavern after Gwen’s had left. After the Magus moulded from the limestone table and chairs, the group settled down to recuperate from the Dragon-fear. The Abjurer poured Yuhua a hot cup of jasmine tea to settle her nerves, after which the girl couldn’t help but mope loudly to her companion. “The girl with the Kirin?” “Yes, the one with the Kirin!” Yuhua seethed. “Lucky wench! And what the HELL was that OTHER THING?” “I would be wary with your tone.” Magus Wang looked his ward in the eyes with a seriousness she rarely observed in her teacher. “That young lady is not someone you want to be on the wrong side of.” “Well? Who is she?” “I believe that’s Gwen Song,” Wang spoke the last two syllables softly. “Never heard of her.” “No, but you will.” Wang sipped his cup of tea. “Master Dai knows her- in fact, he was one of the very first to make her acquaintance in Shanghai.” “Brother?” Yuhua snorted. “Don’t tell me she’s one of his girls?” “No, nothing of the sort.” Her instructor shook his head. “From what I recall, she’s a dual-elementalist in Lightning and Void. Her uncle is the Ash Bringer, her grandfather the old hound of the Confidential Communications Committee. Only recently, she single-handedly defeated Magus Wonsoo Liu in Hangzhou.” “Wonsoo... the one from the Northern Front?” “The very same. We received the report a week ago.” Yuhua sucked in a breath of the cavern’s cold, stale air. “And Void, as in…” Wang nodded solemnly. “Her Void Familiar may be more powerful than even the Kirin. THAT, I believe, was the strange worm creature that tried to... nudge you.” Strangely, Yuhua's jealousy dissipated. What remained was only awe and a sense of grudging respect. Envy was a funny thing. When someone possessed something that one thought one could attain, the mind became filled with desirous energy. When the object of one’s desire became so far as to be unreachable, what one felt instead was a sort of distant reverence and worshipful respect. “CAO!” Yuhua slapped the table, making the teacups jump. “Wang! Why didn’t you say so! We could have offered her double the HDMs and CCs!” With the Water Priest dead, the rest of the lair seemed to have lost its malicious atmosphere. What few Water Ghosts they now encountered seemed entirely incidental, engaged either via blind luck as Lulan Stone Shaped into new passages, or flushed out by her hounds. The party thus arrived at what appeared to be the lowest section of the lair, a large cavern waist-deep in filthy water. Petra blew the rest of her Resist Disease as the party waded into the filth, taking care as to anticipate any ambushes by the Elementally-Blinking Monkeys. “Dancing Lights!” Gwen sent her cantrips into the darkness, illuminating the cavern. “It’s a… mural?” She marvelled at the sight of the painted walls. There was an artful simplicity to the crude paintings, communicating meticulous care taken by the artist. From what Gwen could see, the images depicted a great tribe and its daily life, filled with visions of Water Ghosts gathering swamp-fruits and hunting for fish and crustaceans. There were other images too, female Water Ghosts nursing children, male and female Ghosts procreating, and procreating, and procreating, all in different positions. Yikes, Gwen had to look away for a moment. More than half of the images were bestial-kama-sutra. The Water Ghosts were true evangelists of going forth and multiplying. The party progressed until the water receded and the ground beneath them began to rise. They soon found themselves in a natural amphitheatre of sorts. “Grrr!” “GRRRR” "Rowf! Rowf!" Gwen’s dogs fanned out. An enormously hairy humanoid being sat at the centre of the descending steps, at the lowest point, half submerged in water. From a distance, it resembled a tremendous, shaggy carpet draped over a stone throne. “What is it?” Gwen turned to Richard, who was more knowledgeable in the matters of Wildland fauna. “It’s their Chief,” Richard replied. “Or King? It depends on how many Ghosts once lived here. The Water Ghosts have a complex hierarchy. I know that.” “Ariel, check it out,” Gwen commanded her Familiar. “I can take it from here,” Lulan informed Gwen. "One Sword Toss and it'll be in two bits." “No, it’s not attacking us,” Gwen dismissed her companion’s suggestion. “I wonder why.” “Could be dead already,” Richard noted the thing had barely moved. Ariel flew closer as Caliban slithered into the dark water, disappearing into the murk. When Gwen’s Familiar was about five meters away, the shaggy orangutang suddenly opened its eyes. Unlike the Water Monkeys they had encountered so far, there was a softness in the creature’s gaze, speaking of benevolent wisdom as it looked straight toward Gwen’s party. “EEee!” Ariel relayed back. “It wants to parley?” Gwen spluttered. “It can speak marten?” “It can speak a little Elemental, the language of the Planes,” Lea informed them. “It says that it’s dying. It would like to speak to our war leader.” “Why bother.” Lulan cut in. “Let’s be done with it.” “Lea, ask it if it knows where the other two Mages are.” Drifting across the bay, Lea conversed with the creature in a way the human Mages could not even begin to comprehend. “Yes, he says he will tell us.” Gwen, Richard and the other exchanged furtive glances. "I want to speak to this thing," Gwen announced. When the others protested, she cut them off. "Please. I have to do this." “Your call,” Richard assured the others before turning to his Familiar, requesting that she kept Gwen guarded at all times. “Percy, stay here,” Gwen commanded her brother. “The rest of you as well. Lulan, I'll be very careful, I promise. Only I’ve got the range on my Dimension Door. If it attacks, I'll pop right back." “Can’t you talk to it from it here?” Percy asked. "Get Lea to pass the message?" Gwen shook her head. It wasn’t the same. She wanted to look into the Chief’s eyes, speak to it vis-a-vis, understand what made these creatures tick. At Kusu's insistence, Gwen waited until her dogs had paddled through the water and took up defensive positions. “Gwen, don't get caught up,” Petra warned her. Gwen nodded. “Dimension Door!” There was another reason why Gwen refused to bring her peers. From their conversation, it was clear that her companions didn’t register the Ghosts as anything akin to beings capable of feeling or rational thought. If she were to regard the Chieftain’s words with weight, her friends may yet again interfere, thinking that her compromised conscience had hoodwinked their companion. Petra dropped a Water Walk so that Gwen needn't swim through the muck. The first thing Gwen noted as she approached the old Water Ghost was the spell of mouldy carpet from its fur. When she was within a few meters from the shaggy thing, she further realised it was wounded, and that its injury had been festering for some time. From the smell it engendered, the creature was likely septic. “You’re hurt,” Gwen observed, translated by Lea. “I - dying,” Lea had the words pat down, but her tone was oxymoronically strangely cheerful. “Child of man - why do you listen - others of your kin know only death-dealing.” “Call it curiosity,” Gwen listened to Lea-Translate, then responded in kind. “Where are the other two Mages? Our Kin?” “In the closed cavern - below us.” “Are they alive?” “Yes - not injured or eaten.” “Why did you capture them?” “Hostage - for safe passage.” “Where and with who?” “Too - late.” “Too late for what?” “The tribe. Too many kin - perish. Not enough now - is ended.” “How come?” “You come.” “We killed your kin?” “Too many, you have - sent back to the water - no, it matter not.” “It doesn’t?” “They choose war - we wanted trade.” “Who is we?” “I - others. They have fled now - scattered. Only I remain.” “What happened?” “My son - Lao’lok - he is Guardian of tribe. Hot-headed. Want fight you kin of the stone forest. I - parley. He challenge - took the tribe from I.” The old thing rocked its head, drool dropping all over its chest. “All is folly - tribe go wrong. Tribe could have moved - long ago - when your warriors came with fire - but no. I too - think we fight. Then food grew scarce - the fish belly up - the water dwindle. We knew then that there was no win against the kin of the stone jungle - but Lao’lok was too deep in the frenzy. He want only revenge - satisfaction - not continuation. He lost his brothers - his mate too - to your warriors - your iron giants. From you, man-kin, Lao’lok has learned hate - what our tribe of the Shui - had never known. He even take the spirit of our kin for power - to fight you. Lao'lok killed our kin for power - to kill your kin. But land God is JUST. Taboo is taboo. Now - our tribe no more-” Gwen remained silent for a short while, digesting the old Chieftain’s story. It made sense. The CCP began their expansion into Nantong. They started by clearing the land, draining the swamp. They ran into the Water Ghosts; losses were sustained on both sides. Mages were deployed, more bloodshed ensured. All the while, the local flora and fauna dwindled until the local tribes of Demi-humans began to starve. They got desperate, more clashes, kidnapping, looting for food. The humans then sent more powerful Mages, until Richard caught wind of the opportunity and brought Lulan into the fold. Gwen distinctly recalled that Richard's crew had been butchering their way through the Nantong Frontier for weeks, making dough from blood and bone. Gwen sighed, both internally and physically. How many Water Ghosts had they exterminated on the way in? Lulan had almost a hundred heads in her Ring and about sixty Cores, including that of the Priest. Presumably, that was this guy's son - Lao’lok. “I can give you a quick death, end your suffering.” Gwen offered. “But first, I am going to leave you alive, just in case." Gwen took a healing injector and punched it into the weakened creature. "I have more questions for you, but first, where are the captives?” “The entrance is behind the gathering chamber. You are curious one - Godling.” Gwen frowned. What the hell is a Godling? "Gwen, over here!" It was Lea who helpfully located the entrance to the tunnel. “You two, with me. Caliban, stay here. Ariel, cover my six.” Gwen picked two of the larger hounds to take the lead. She then Messaged her companions across the murk. “Richard, Pats, I am going to check the captives. It should be safe to cross. I am leaving the rest of the dogs with you. Take care of Percy.” “You’re killing the damned thing, right?” Lulan's voice came across the Message. “… eventually. Leave it alone for now. I need to verify where the Fung captives are.” “I’ll be close by,” Percy joined in communal Message, making a 'C' for Crystal. “To offer my luck, of course, when the big one dies.” “Hahaha…” Richard slapped the boy on the back. Gwen's brother was growing on him. Across the swamp water, the rest of her party broke into careless, snorting laughter. Gwen suppressed the depressing emotions rising in her chest. Instead, she focused on the path ahead. “Ariel, give me some light.” She didn’t have to go far, a dozen meters later, the narrow tunnel opened up to an enclosed chamber walled off with what looked like stalactites. Before her entry, the room had been dark, but as Ariel came around Gwen began to take in its modest dimensions. Two figures were immediately apparent, though the scene was hardly what she had anticipated. Gwen froze. Her mind attempted to process the horror show in front of her. The first figure was a man wearing what looked like half-discarded combat gear, now mangled and bloody. He laid on his back, eyes wide open in terror. Dark blood seeped from his eyes and nostrils, his hands curled, his fingers frozen in rigour mortis. There were two wounds visible, one just below his chest, and another near his abdomen. A pool of congealed blood had already formed around the corpse. It looked as though the man had tried to shove his intestines back into the wound. Against the wall was a woman in a catatonic state, her eyes wide open and staring into the middle distance. Her face, which Gwen could see was once exceedingly delicate, was badly bruised, with one puffed eye and blood running down both of her nostrils. What was worse for Gwen was that her clothes had been torn asunder, revealing one breast and exposing her lower body. She also sat in a pool of blood, though from Gwen's vantage point, it could only come from one place. A taste of bile filled her mouth. An innate revulsion filled her body and she could hardly breathe. Rape? The malignant word reverberated through her head like a thunderclap. They raped her! She recalled from Jun that the simian Demi-humans were known to have a taste for human women, and now she was seeing its aftermath first hand. THOSE FUCKING MONKEYS! An arc of lightning shot from her finger, scorching the walls. She couldn’t think straight. The idea of rape had crossed her mind, of course, it was in the news, she saw it in a film, there was plenty of it on the internet, real or otherwise. She herself was no stranger to sexual harassment, not since she hit puberty, but the reality of the scene now presented in front of her eyes was burning a smouldering hole in her brain. It seemed so real... NO! She had to remind herself. THIS WAS REAL. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but still, Gwen couldn’t utter a single sound. Back in the amphitheatre, Richard sensed Lea’s disquiet. “Gwen is angry.” Lea materialised before her Master. “Very angry.” “WAO!” Richard braced himself against his watery Familiar as a wave of Dragon-fear rippled through the floor, permeating the porous limestone. “Mao!” Lulan circulated her heart-ironed mana. Beside her, Kusu did the same. “AwoOoo…” “AWOOOOoo…” “AwoooooOOOoo…” Gwen’s hounds began to howl in unison. Percy sat on the floor to meditate, warding his heart and mind as to keep his stomach’s contents intact and his urine within his body. “SHAAA!” Caliban, who had been coiled beside the old Water Ghost Chief, suddenly stood to attention. It suddenly grew in size until it took on its Gila form. “SCRII! YIP! YIP! YII!” The old Water Ghost rose from his seat. “What’s it doing?!” Richard opened up Shields, covering Percy and Petra. “Looks like it’s offering itself!” Petra had the easiest time against Gwen's Dragon-fear. As an Enchanter, a Mind Mage and a Mineral user, her consciousness was well-fortified against all mind-altering effects. Caliban stabbed four sabre-thick claws into the old simian’s torso, drawing the breath from its body. Then with a mighty heave, it stuffed the thing into its distended maw, head, torso and all. It’s jaws closed with sick, slurping gulp, then the old master of the lair was no more. Not too far away, Percy savoured the enriched essence pouring into his amulet. “What the hell happened?” Richard turned to Lea. “She’s coming up,” Lea informed the party. “One of the Mages is dead, and the other one is wounded. Gwen is really upset.” The party turned to regard the tunnel, where they could just make out her shadow. Already, not even fully emerged, her silhouette gave them shivers.

“Good God, put her down,” Petra, who was the team’s acting medic, ordered the poor girl to be carefully positioned. Gwen unwrapped the bedsheets she had used to bundle the girl. "Gwen, give me your Decanter of Everlasting Water." "Here." Petra washed away the blood from the girl's body. “Heal Moderate Wounds!” Lihong's bruised and mangled flesh mended. “Those fucking animals.” Gwen gritted her teeth. She had to undress the girl before they could heal Lihong; her ire boiled with every bloody strip of torn cloth peeled from Lihong's skin. Percy, Kusu and Richard had been sent away for the moment, so it was just the three girls tending to the battered adolescent. “To think I had felt sorry for the old bastard.” “They’re known for this sort of thing.” Lulan spat, watching Gwen as she wiped away the blood from Lihong's lower body. “I want to exterminate every single one!” “Shut up, both of you,” Petra snapped. “Lulan, go get the other body, we need to hand it over to the Fungs." When Lulan returned, Lihong had been tidied up. “She’s still in shock.” Gwen recognised the aimless stare. “Lihong, can you hear me? My name is Gwen Song. We’re here to rescue you. You’re safe now. We've defeated ALL of the Water Ghosts.” With agonising slowness, Lihong turned her face. Her bruises had faded, though the girl's eyes remained vacant. Gwen groaned inwardly. The girl was delicate and beautiful, possessing a natural innocence. She would have had a wonderful life ahead of her, and now this happened. From the girl's aura, Gwen guessed her to be an Ice Mage, likely a Transmuter, with a smidgen of something else. “Lulan.” Petra gazed into Lulan’s face. "Look at me." “YES?” Lulan swallowed. Why was Petra staring at her? “Can you keep a secret?” “Sure I can.” Lulan puzzlingly observed Petra turning the girl's vacant gaze toward her own. “Calm Emotion!” A dull aura of Enchantment circulated through Petra’s husky-blue eyes, turning her pupils golden. Lulan opened her mouth in amazement. A Mind Mage! The Sword Mage gulped. Since when was Petra a Mind Mage? Wasn’t Gwen’s cousin a Mineral Mage researching Spell Cubes? Lihong blinked. "I need to go deeper," Petra informed the others. She bore into the girl’s vapid pupils, channelling the Charm Person glamour. “Lihong, calm yourself, you are in good company.” As if a cord had been pulled, Lihong’s body reanimated. Tears began to well in her eyes, flowing freely down either side of her face as a moan haunting to behold bled from her lips. “Ah… oh… ah…” Lihong choked on the sound of her voice. “It’s okay.” Gwen embraced the poor girl. “It’s fine now. You’re safe. I killed them. We killed them. They’re all dead.” Lihong clutched Gwen’s torso, then began to wail. “CAO!” Lulan spat. “I want to obliterate another hundred of those bastards right now!” Petra motioned for Lulan to shut up. “Lihong,” the Mind Mage spoke softly, her husky voice low and commanding as she escalated her control to the tier 3 Suggestion, simultaneously activating a Read Emotion. “Who assaulted you?” Lihong’s face left Gwen’s tear-soaked shoulder, taking on an expression of heart-rending sadness as an irresistible compulsion compelled her to speak. “Yuan Xie…“ By Lihong's second syllable, Gwen’s mind was white with static. Lulan stared, her pink lips agape enough to encompass a hen’s egg. Petra acknowledged the confession wistfully. “As I suspected.” She lamented before turning to Gwen. “Her injuries are not consistent with an attack by any of the Ghosts, not to mention Water Ghosts are an entirely different kind of creature to the single-sexed mountain Jūefu. They're not known for violating human women, as they prefer their own. I doubt a tribe on the verge of starvation would have copulation on its list of priorities." “But…” Gwen took Lihong’s cold hands in her own. The girl's fingers were icicles. Petra’s eyes retained their golden glow. “Lihong, tell us what happened.” “I couldn’t see him in the dark,” Lihong confessed. “The water was filthy, and we haven’t had food for days. I was growing delirious.” “You didn’t bring food in your Storage Rings?” Gwen asked. “The Water Ghosts took our Rings… We resisted, but one of them gnawed off Qilu’s fingers. They made us take out all our rations, but we only brought three day's worth. They caught us by surprise, Master Xie escaped by himself, leaving us to our fate, but they caught him anyway.” “You weren’t brought to the prison at the same time?” “No.” Lihong shook her head. “The four of us were caught the first time. The Monkeys took Qilu after his wounds festered. Then they took Weng and Jiao, one after another. That’s when Master Xie joined me in prison.” “I am sorry.” Gwen warmed the girl’s hands by circulating a mote of her Almudj’s essence through her fingers. It was too bad she couldn't share the Essence with other humans. “But your companions have died.” “They ate them?” Lihong looked up, her eyes brimming with suppressed emotion from Petra's Enchantment. Gwen nodded. “Master Xie was right then, even in the end.” Lihong sobbed. “He said they'd eat them, and that they'd eat us too." "Tell us about Yuan Xie," Petra's iron voice demanded. "Why did he attack you? How did he die?" Lihong appeared to battle Petra's Suggestion. It took a moment for her expression to relax. "Master Xie was in love with me," the girl stated. "When they threw him in there with me, he apologised for running away to call for reinforcements. He told me that he was going to be back as soon a Message had gotten to Nantong. I forgave him then. I was so scared. I didn't know what else to say. Qilu and Weng and Jiao were all gone." "Then what happened?" Gwen held the girl tighter in her arms, cupping her maternally, feeling endless empathy welling in her chest. "Magus Xie kept a Dancing Light on, but the Monkey-men made him dispel his magic. We sat in the darkness, listening to my stomach growl. I was so thirsty. We didn't dare drink the filthy water. I grew more and more delirious. We were sure that no help was coming. We're not supposed to be here. We didn't tell anyone because we were Quest Poaching. It's stupid, I know, but I just wanted to see what it's like to do a Quest. The training at home was always so boring - Master Xie said this was a good opportunity, so close to home as well..." "Focus," Petra guided the girl's thoughts. "What did Xie do?" "I lost track of time in the darkness. Hungry and thirsty, I tried to sleep. Xie woke me up and said there's something he wanted to tell me. That was when he confessed to me that he had always been in love with me, ever since I was a child, and that he wanted to be with me. Since we were both going to die, Xie said he would make an honest woman out of me. He said the Monkeys would have their way with me anyway, then eat me after. If that's how it's going to be, it may as well be him, who had devoted a decade of his life to me-” “Honest woman!” Gwen fumed. The bastard. The paedophile bastard. “I was groggy by then, but I knew he was wrong. I promised him I would never speak of this again if he would leave me alone.” “And then what happened?" Petra pushed for confirmation. Lihong's voice was quivering now, her words coming more rapidly. Her eyes stared into the middle-distance as she recounted Xie's final moments. “I blacked out. When I woke up, Xie was on top of me. He was undressing me and…” “OKAY.” Gwen arrested Petra’s interrogation. “I think we can guess the rest. I take it you attacked him in the dark when his pan- when his defences were down?” The girl nodded. "How did-" "Petra, that's enough," Gwen begged her companion. Under the dim light, Petra's golden pupils sent shivers down Gwen's spine. “Lihong, rest now.” Petra invoked a Forgetful Slumber. The spell would remove the last hour of Lihong's memories, after which a tier 6 Recall Memory was needed to expose their interrogation. “Things will be better when you wake up. Your loved ones are looking out for you.” “I understand.” The girl tucked into Gwen's bosoms, then promptly fell asleep. The three girls regarded each other with heavy hearts. “You alright?” Petra enquired of their overthinking, oversensitive, overtly sentimental cousin. Gwen cradled the girl in her arms, feeling the tremors running through Lihong's body as she slumbered. “I am too exhausted to think,” she confessed. “In fact. I don’t want to think about it.” “Okay.” Petra glanced at Lulan, who had nothing to add. “Let's meet up with the Fungs. Gwen, pass me something loose and comfortable for Lihong.” Petra studied her cousin as she dressed Lihong in slacks, then bundled the girl with towels. Gwen seemed lost as she carried Lihong to the entrance of the chamber. Petra then turned to Lulan. "Lulu..." "I saw nothing," Lulan affirmed her commitment to Petra's privacy. Then anxiously, she leaned in closer. "I don't understand, why did her bodyguard assault her? Isn't she like a daughter?" The dull gold of Enchantment faded from Petra's eyes. As the familiar magic drained from her body, Petra couldn't help but recall the first lesson taught by Master Popov: "Never trust anyone, my little devotchka; who knows what wickedness lurks beneath the amiable mien of smiling men? Don't trust anyone, not even me..." “Lihong!” Yuhua ran from her party to encompass her kinswoman. “You found her! Thank Mao!” “Where is Magus Xie?” Magus Wang enquired. “Is he safe?” Gwen's party remained ominously reserved. “I need a moment of your time,” Gwen artfully asserted. “Miss Yuhua may join us as well, but what I am about to tell you is a sensitive matter.” Wang read the seriousness in their faces. “Bian, Fan, Xiao-Mao, look after Miss Lihong. Give her food, water, whatever she wants. Yuhua, come with me.” “Huh? Why? What’s wrong?” Their grave expressions made Yuhua's heart skip a beat. “Wocao! Magus Xie died, didn’t he?” “When Father hears of this…” Yuhua wiped an angry tear from the edge of her eyes. “The entire line of Xie will pay!” “…” It was absurd to Gwen that one man’s crime could lead to the punishment of his whole family, but she wasn’t in a position to judge, especially after her blunder with the Chieftain. The Demi-human had demonstrated every aspect of humanity she would come to expect, and yet, she had butchered the old King like a dog. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. She had promised him a quick, clean death - instead, she exercised the excruciating torture of having one's existence erased from the Material Plane, having one's soul - assuming Demi-humans had souls - obliterated. Lihong’s mental condition appeared to have regressed after Petra’s compulsion faded. Once the fortification provided by Petra's Mind Magic wore off, the girl turned inward, becoming both dumb and deaf. According to Petra, if the Clan was willing, a Rewrite Memory of the last few days was enough to ensure the girl went on with her life oblivious to the truth. The origin of such magic, however, would be scarce indeed. After handing over Xie's corpse and Lihong's bloody dress, they were ready to depart. “Miss Song, as Miss Lihong is unable to validate your findings, is it at all possible to invite you and your party to enjoy the hospitality of the Clan of Fung for a few days?” Magus Wang bowed respectfully, ensuring that there were no misunderstandings. “I am certain Master Dai would be more than happy to make your acquaintance once more.” “I need to get back to training in Fudan,” Gwen began. “Of course, once the matter is resolved; we would very much like to reward your party for your part in recovering Miss Lihong. She is a favourite of the Patriarch’s, you see. Despite this tragedy, the young Miss would continue to be cherished and protected like a delicate pearl. As for her saviours, there would be ample reward in the form of CCs, HDMs and whatever treasures our Clan could offer.” “A few days in Nantong sounds like just the ticket,” Richard interrupted his bashful cousin before she accepted altruism as a currency. “Don’t you think so, Gwen?” Gwen quickly glanced at the rest of her party. Petra was eager to return to Shanghai. Lulan and Kusu were desperate for resources. Percy shrugged, leaving the decision to her. “I guess we can take up your hospitality for a short while. Pats, are you alright with that?” “I'll head back myself.” Petra wasn’t one to mince words or suffer in politeness. “Don't worry about me." “We are happy to deliver Miss Kuznetsova to the Shanghai ISTC Interchange,” Magus Fung offered. “If so, would she consider staying for a banquet?” “Pats?” “That is agreeable.” Petra ruminated on her schedule; even if she left now, she wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. “Excellent, that’s settled then.” Magus Wang visibly relaxed. “Let us return to the city.” A small fleet of dark sedans met Gwen’s party on the halfway built highway some half-an-hour trek from the Water Monkeys’ lair. “Japanese imports?” Gwen noted the familiar sight of the three diamonds-in-a-triangle she had seen earlier on the golems. Not even in Shanghai were imported vehicles all that common. The new District of Nantong was surprisingly wealthy. “We’re a trading port.” Magus Wang convened with Gwen, Percy and Petra. Lulan, Kusu and Richard took up a separate vehicle. “The Japanese supply much of our Magi-tech in exchange for foodstuff, agricultural goods, and raw materials.” "How interesting," Gwen noted, happy for the mental distraction. According to her research, the geographic trade dynamic of the tier 1 cities differed from her old world. Rather than transatlantic trade, the exchange of freight was restricted to geographic neighbours. The Asian-Pacific nations formed an inner circle of commodity exchange via shipping lanes. The Commonwealth possessed separate supply lines around the world, connecting its old colonies. The U.S principally traded with its northern neighbour, Canada, as well as sporadically with an antagonistic Mesoamerica and warily with the Incan Empire in Cuzco. As Gwen conversed with Wang about Nantong's canal, she realised there was a great opportunity here. The land around Nantong was as cheap as chips for the time being. With the city's development, there was bound to be new habitat blocks for NoMs, apartments and hotels for Mages, warehouses, factories - everything necessary to a thriving trade hub. Once the topic of trade was exhausted, Wang turned to their Clan. “The character for our House is the Xia Dynasty pictogram for ‘Harvest,’” the Magus explained. “It represents that which is abundant, lush, bountiful - an auspicious name indeed. Fung was the capital of the Scholar-King Zhou Feng, from which the nation took its name, today we know it as Suzhou.” “It's an auspicious name," Gwen agreed. “For five years now, our Clan has been working closely with the leadership in Shanghai, prepping the region for the opening of Tonglv Canal. Without major calamity, the region should complete its infrastructural upgrade within the decade, with the Fung Group leading the way." “Once completed, the lion’s share of shipping from Singapore, Japan, Korea and Northern China will be routed through Nantong, correct?” “Indeed, you are very astute, Miss Song.” Magus Wang patronised his young opponent, playing off her inexperience. “How many TEUs will you be expecting?” TEUs were shipping units, each denoting a twenty-foot container. “About 12 Million units,” Magus Wang stated proudly, expecting Gwen to respond with open-eyed wonder. Instead, he watched as the girl knitted her brows. Did she not understand the majesty of such an astounding statistic? The Fung Magus questioned Gwen's economic naivety. It wasn't uncommon for the Guan-er-dai to know only how to spend crystals. But it wasn't understanding that Gwen lacked, she was aghast that Shanghai’s Port Authority would only process 12 million units. Averaging 2 tonnes per twenty-foot container, it meant the volume of freight moving through Shanghai barely exceeded one-third of her old world. “Will Nantong be operating its own cranes, golems and berths?” Wang affirmed her enquiry with a nod. “How will you be charging for administration, storage, maintenance? What economic model will the port be using? How are you tying manifest and admin costs to freight flow-rates? How competitive are your fees, per tonnage?” “I am sorry...” Wang faltered, assaulted by Gwen's torrent of jargon. “The port operates at a loss. We're hoping the canal's income would change that.” “…” Gwen blinked at the ageing Magus. “The port doesn’t turn a profit?” “Ha.” Magus Wang smiled at Gwen kindly. “The Nantong-Shanghai anchorage is a state enterprise. We’re merely its custodians.” “But Singapore turns a profit, surely.” Gwen reminded herself of the bustling scene she had seen when travelling there. “I was there! I am certain the city thrives on its deep-water anchorage. Economically, Singapore is on par with tier 1 cities like Shanghai.” “A different governance with different circumstances, perhaps,” Wang answered evasively, unable to provide for Gwen a convincing explanation. “I am sure Singapore has its secrets.” “I see,” Gwen agreed. She had to turn away because her lips were quivering. HOLY SHIT, she couldn't help but feel herself on the verge of asphyxiation. The bloody CCP was running the port like a WWII operation. Cargo goes in - freight goes out. Ships paid for repairs and customs, and a small portion of the money went to maintenance and admin. They had no idea! They had no FUCKING IDEA how the finance of a 21st-century harbour operated! In her old world, Singapore increased its GDP per capita from half of Malaysia's to that of six-times its neighbour, thanks to its world-class freight-hub. Screw digging at Nantong's infrastructure! Not when she could tap the vein itself. Her business instinct was on fire. But to whom could she speak? Gwen took a moment to calm her nerves. The serendipitous opportunity was an excellent distraction from the genocide they had just carried out. She expertly boxed up the nasty feelings haunting her insides and instead, looked outside at the canal - the object of her ascension. The countryside had been stripped bare in anticipation of the massive canal and its parallel highways. Bottomless pits, the foundation of soon to be mega-Districts like the ones in Shanghai, would quickly engulf the terraformed landscape. From the passager's seat, Wang inspected the rearview mirror, wondering why the girl was so interested in the banalities of a trading port when something like the IIUC or the prestige of the House of Fung was of so much more import and interest, not noticing that Gwen was squirming with anticipation. “One last question,” Gwen implored from the rear. “Who’s in charge of the Port and the Canal? Who can speak for the Port Authority?” “A triumvirate." The Magus knew the answer to this one. “Our Patriarch, Shen Fung, will be abdicating his role as the Police Commissioner of Shanghai to become Governor-Secretary of Nantong. He will be joined by Vice-Chairman Tu Guangshao of the Shanghai Economic Exchange, and Magister Chen Quin, formerly a President of Jianqiao University.” “I see.” Gwen memorised the names. “Thank you, Magus.” “We’ll be arriving soon. Please make yourself comfortable.” Their motorcade took another half an hour to reach the city centre, delving into one construction zone after another, strewn with NoM labourers milling about like ants, aided by Civil-Construction Mages here and there. At the western junction of the new city, Gwen noted an enormous Shielding Station, half constructed, reaching for the sky. “A new design,” Wang stated proudly. “Did you hear about what happened in Sydney? All the Frontiers worth their crystals are switching to the newer modulation as a result.” “I am from Sydney.” Gwen’s voice drifted from the back. “Richard and my brother as well. We are survivors of the Mermen invasion.” “Ah, my condolences.” Magus Wang scolded himself for his inattention. “I hope your loved ones are safe.” When Gwen didn’t answer, Wang furthermore slapped himself internally. Percy meanwhile, watched his sister mumbling to herself, he caught a few words such as tariffs and freight deposits, but otherwise noted she was drowning in a chamber of her own thoughts. The Fung compound, much to their surprise, was a skyscraper. A construct of glass and concrete, styled with modern decor, the 'Harvest' Group building rose thirty storeys into the air, marking it as one of the tallest in the new commercial district. “I am speechless,” Gwen greeted Yuhua and the small contingent of men and women who came out from the lobby to greet them. “Not an estate or a compound, but a high-rise?” “We have to get with the times.” The Fung heiress laughed, threading her arm through Gwen’s elbow in an overtly friendly gesture, a complete one-eighty from their first meeting. The Fungs were VERY good at that, Gwen noted. They could change their position in a heartbeat, whether it was Dai, Lu, or Yuhua. “Did Wang gave you a pre-tour?” “He did an excellent job.” Gwen beamed at Wang, who acknowledged Gwen’s praise sheepishly. “How’s Lihong fairing?” “Same as before.” Yuhua bit her lower lip. “We’ll go see the Patriarch first. Wang, can you take us up? Tell Lihong's father to come as well. Also, not a word to anyone else.” Wang left to make the arrangements while Gwen’s party, accompanied by Yuhua and the ashen Lihong, entered the building. Once inside the spacious lift, they ascended until the 29th floor, where the door opened directly into a loft. Two guards in dark suits asked them to halt, greeting Yuhua with a cordial ‘Miss’. After a quick diagnostic of Gwen, the guards' mannerisms furthermore assumed an air of esteem. Wang reappeared a minute later, directing the group from the lobby into the adjoining antechamber, then into a spacious office overlooking the city. “Lihong!” A man with delicate, almost-feminine features rushed toward his daughter. “Mao! What’s happened to you?!” Gwen parried a stab of sympathy. Now was not the time; if she wasted this meeting with Shen Fung, she might not receive another, not unless she dated Dai or something shallow like that. “Uncle…” Observing Gwen's silence, Yuhua wasn’t sure how to broach the matter either. Thankfully, the presence of Lihong’s father seemed to have flipped a switch in the girl. With an utterance of secret agony, Liong fell into her father’s arms in a fit of flooding tears and torrential wailing. “What’s wrong? Did someone bully you? Tell father! I’ll make sure they wish they were never born!” Gwen’s party collectively winced. If only retribution could fix what had been wrought. “Jeishin, take Lihong to see Magus Ong.” Gwen's attention turned toward a second man standing behind the overlarge executive's table. “Doctor Ong? Why? What’s wrong with Lihong?” “Go.” the baritone voice possessed an air of command. “Take your daughter and go. Tell Ong to report back as soon as possible.” Gwen’s attention shifted toward an unassuming middle-aged man wearing a coarse mandarin jacket. What is it with these power-types wearing humbling peasant garbs?! Gwen wondered. The Secretary-General also wore the same ill-fitting, cotton attire. Was it a power-status thing? Once a Mage reached a particular stratum in the CCP, one let go of the material things in life and assumed the guise of a peasant-leader, like Buddha having attained enlightenment? “Wang, close the door. Is Xie’s family been watched?” “Yessir, they’re in suite 2234. I don’t believe the family knows, Patriarch.” “Hmmph.” Shen turned to regard Gwen and her team. The apex politician in Shanghai's newest District was an unassuming middle-aged scholar. He studied her group, his eyes scanning her party until finally resting on Gwen's face. "You're Guo Song's granddaughter?" "Sir!" Gwen bowed. “If someone told me that someone with Guo's mug could have a granddaughter like you, I'd strike them for lying." "I'll take that as a compliment, Sir." Gwen smiled sweetly. "Xie's Family, Sir?" Wang gently implored his Master. Shen's gaze remained focused on Gwen. "I believe there is a western saying from the European Sect of the Jesuits which suits our purpose well - ‘The Sins of the Father’, are you familiar with it? Gwen?” Her party glanced at one another; Petra indicated that she knew. “Yessir.” It was Gwen who stepped forward. “I believe it’s from Exodus in the Old Testament, stating that their Old Deity is a jealous God, desiring to visit the iniquity of fathers onto his children to the third and the fourth generation.” The Patriarch of the Fungs paced a little closer to Gwen. “A scholar of esoteric theocracy! And at your age!” The Patriarch carried a formidable bearing. “But then again, you ARE the infamous Worm Handler of Fudan.” It took all of Gwen’s fortitude to keep her face in check. “A nickname circulated in jest, Sir. Just Gwen, please.” “Dai has been whispering in my ear about your accomplishments since you met him in April,” Shen stated ominously. “Do you know my son, Dai?” “He owes me a favour.” Gwen took another half-step forward, circulating a mote of Almudj’s Essence through her body to fortify her bearing. A windbreaker worn over a skin-suit was hardly an imposing presence, and right now, a good impression from Shen possessed immense value to Gwen. “A favour he may not ever repay.” The Patriarch chuckled. “A foolish child playing at guan-xi, I hope you are not offended, Gwen.” “The favour of the son, Sir. May very well be a favour from the father.” Shen paused, then burst into laughter. “VERY GOOD!” Shen guffawed uproariously. "You've got me there, young lady." A Message spell bloomed beside the man’s ear. "Excuse me-" Shen walked to the panoramic windows overlooking the city. As the Message silently played, the Patriarch's face grew increasingly dark until Gwen could feel the room’s temperate dropping, enough to make Percy, the weakest of them, tremble. Gwen, her party, Wang and Yuhua patiently waited for the Patriarch to finish. “Magus Ong tells me that Lihong is indeed… sullied.” Shen had to close his eyes for a moment to recompose himself. “Tell me, Gwen the theologian. Should I punish Xie’s unknowing sibling? His father and mother, who even now reside below us? What do the Western texts dictate?” “The Sins of the Father…” Gwen craned her neck so that she stood taller. “Should be visited with extreme prejudice, should it not? Even upon his ten-year-old brother, a total innocent?” “No, Sir.” Gwen’s retort surprised them all, considering her earlier quip. “It’s a misunderstanding. The correct passage later found in Deuteronomy states that: ‘Lo, Fathers shall not be put to death because of their children, nor shall children be put to death because of their fathers. Each one shall be put to death for his own sin. That’s how it is, I am afraid.” “You advocate mercy?” The Patriarch’s voice possessed a dangerous edge. “Gwen…” Richard coughed politely. “A father must have his revenge.” Gwen brushed off her cousin. “Nonetheless, Xie’s parents are innocent of their son’s crime, so are his brother and sister,” Gwen spoke out loud for all to hear. “I do not mean to assert that you or Lihong do not deserve retribution, Patriarch. The wisdom of the biblical texts are often themselves contradictory, and the selection of the passage is less so a commandment, more so a choice. Magister Shen, if you believe the lesson of Exodus more compelling than that of Deuteronomy, then you are well within your right. BUT in the end..." Gwen stabbed a thumb into her bosom. "...it is WE who make the choices.” “What would you do? Miss Song?” “I would make the culprit pay ten-thousand times over. I would flay his Astral Soul,” Gwen declared. “But the man is dead.” “Then I shall inform his family of his crimes, tell them the source of their misery, then exile them from my sight.” “You would not kill them?” Gwen’s hazel eyes sparkled with unnatural intelligence. “Where’s the satisfaction in that?” she demanded. “I would be no better than a butcher. This way, his family lives, knowing that their bastard has doomed them for generations. Cursing his name every day of their wretched lives.” Silence reigned as the Patriarch Shen ruminated Gwen’s proposal. Percy shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, uneasy in the presence of one so powerful and so evidently in the grasp of violent emotions seeking an outlet. Yuhua stared at Gwen with her mouth half open. Even as Shen’s darling daughter, she had never spoken with such eloquent confidence in her Father's presence, much less advising the Patriarch on the matter of retribution when one of his favourite nieces had been defiled by a man sent to protect her. Finally, Shen appeared to have reached a decision. “Yuhua.” The Patriarch exhaled deeply. “Send Magus Xie's apprentice, his parents, and his siblings to the Front. I want them gone by tonight. Inform Colonel Zheng. If they fail to present themselves on the Xi-An Front within the week, put out a desertion bounty, double the reward. From this moment forth, the House of Xie is expelled from Nantong!” “Yes, Father!” Yuhua left immediately to execute her father's will. Shen moved behind his oversized table, finally taking a seat. “So.” The Patriarch appeared to have brushed the chip from his shoulder. “What manner of a reward do you desire? CCs? HDMs? Land? Perhaps, knowing your ambition, people? Would ten-thousand NoMs migrating to a demesne of your preference suffice? Perhaps a Mage of your own, sworn to your service?” An excited murmur broke out between Gwen’s companions. “Nothing of the sort,” Gwen interjected. Richard and company fell deathly silent. Gwen quickly gave her companions a reassuring nod. “What I want, Sir…” Gwen appeared more imposing than even when she emerged holding Lihong. “Is a FAVOUR."

“You don’t think you’re asking too much?” Shen's voice lost a measure of good humour. “Are you familiar with the Chinese idiom about the python that choked, trying to swallow an elephant?” Gwen weathered the Patriarch's intimidation like a robust warratah, unyielding against the wind. “Nothing of the sort, Sir. I call my request a 'favour', but in truth, my actions can only serve to benefit yourself, Nantong, and your Clan. There are no winners or losers here, only mutual benefit.” The two locked their eyes. To the gathering, there was no stranger sight than a Secretary in his late forties having a stare-down against a seventeen-year-old girl. “What is it then?” Shen's knitted brows formed a deep chasm across his forehead. “I would like an hour to make a case to you, Vice Chairman Tu, and President Chen. All you have to do is listen to a proposal, after which the favour is repaid.” The Patriarch Shen raised a bushy brow. “A curious gambit, Gwen Song. What makes you feel so confident? Are you so compelling that the three of us, who hold between us seven million lives between the South China Sea and Shanghai, would be compelled to act by a girl-child?” Gwen dipped her head, maintaining her gaze. “Then you have nothing to lose other than sixty minutes of your time, Sir, perhaps a veneer of 'face' between you and your colleagues. If anything, I would be squandering my grandfather's reputation.” “Not to mention your Uncle, the War Hero.” Shen's expression softened. “Yessir.” Gwen grinned. “In the _un_ -likely event that I embarrass myself.” The Patriarch of the Nantong Fungs rapped the table, drumming away with his fingernails. Gwen remained standing, still as a statue while her party held their breath, unsure of what to make of Gwen's grandiose gesture. What they did know was to trust that Gwen knew what she was negotiating, as she had demonstrated many times before. After a minute, Shen spoke. “If nothing else, lass, you have distracted me from the incident involving Lihong,” the gruff Patriarch confessed candidly. “Very well. I shall ask the other two to attend our banquet tonight. After which you have- half an hour.” “That’s more than enough, Sir.” Gwen had an expression like the fox who just took the hen house. In all honesty, she had expected the Patriarch to make life far more difficult. Shen caught Gwen’s rapscallion demeanour, realised he had underestimated the girl, then began to laugh. “Go and clean yourselves up." Shen measured the Song girl against his scions and found them wanting. "You and your friend can take the guest penthouse on level 27. There will be servants there to help you. If you need anything - tell the staff. The banquet will start at 7 PM. I'll send for you when the others arrive.” Watching Gwen curtsy comically in her combat-suit and a mismatched parka, Shen disappointingly thought of his son, Dai. In recent years, the young man had become spoiled by their success. His other children were no better. His second son, Kei, couldn't duel his way out of a mob of NoMs. Yuhua wasn't bad, though she lacked a keen mind. He studied Gwen as her party retreated, observing their deference to her. The girl was a Gweilo, but Shen wasn't an old guard. In the future, Dai needed a firm hand to guide him, especially in the instance of Nantong becoming an international trading port. A spouse with a war hero uncle, a Neutral Faction grandfather, as well as the beauty and ability to match the growing power of Nantong, could very well be the support the Fungs needed. “So, what are you going to suggest?” Petra was all ears as the girls changed. The VIP suite was enormous; the main bathroom was the size of Gwen and Petra’s apartment. Presently, Gwen was having a good soak in the bubble bath while Petra dried her hair, wrapped in a towel. “What about this one?!” Lulan ducked through the door with a pink dress that made her look like a sausage sock puppet. “Horrendous!” Gwen shook her head. “Lulu, you’re the petite type, go for cocktail dresses, something dark, A-line, short sleeves, just above the knee and high-waisted." “I don't know what that means!” Lulan tugged at the tube-dress, disappearing through the door in a flurry of frustration. “I need a Translation Ioun Stone!” “Pats, have you decided?” “No skirts.” Petra eyed the wardrobe Gwen had provided for her, laid out on the bed. “Your dresses are all so… flimsy.” "Well then, I’ve got a suit that’s just your style,” Gwen assured her cousin. “I’ll help you in a bit.” She slinked from the bath, soapy and slick with foam. A quick shower cleansed away the milky-suds, followed by a hasty robe. “THIS ONE?” Lulan appeared once again, this time with an embroidered off-shoulder dress tapered at the waist and flared just above the knees. “Wonderful.” Gwen gave Lulan the A-O.K with her fingers. “Wait in the living room; I’ll do your eyes and hair.” “Ooo.” Lulan skipped away, feeling furiously feminine. She went to show Kusu, who was with the boys taking up another section of the floor-wide suite. “As I was saying…” Petra was thankful that finally, Lulan’s interruption had ceased. "What's your plan?" “It's less a plan, and more a whole system." Gwen carefully made up her eyes. "I am going to present a mutually beneficial offer they cannot refuse regarding Nantong port.” “The port?” Petra appeared taken aback. “Uh-huh.” “It’s a state project, why should they listen to you?” “They might not,” Gwen explained. “Or they could steal my idea. If so, I’ll make it public, tell the world. Publish it via Fudan’s network. Tell Gunther to sell it to the Commonwealth. Trade it for CCs. _but_ , if we do pull this off, it'll solve all their capital shortage for the next decade, longer if they manage fiscal responsibility.” “Why the favour then?” “One - to arrange a meeting. Two - to get Shen on my side. Three - to impose on them that none of this will happen without my guidance.” “I am still not fully understanding any of this.” Petra shook her head. She was a brilliant spellcraft theorist, but Gwen’s half-baked explanation was driving her in circles. “It’s a little complicated.” Gwen scratched her chin. “Not to be cocky, Pats, explaining it might confuse you even more.” “Try me.” “Alright…” Gwen briefly explained the notion of flowing capital. Using short-term continuous deposits made by freight moving through Nantong to establish a stock-backed Sinking Fund. The fund can then be utilised on behalf of expanding the port, training staff, repairing ships, and offering short-term loans for misadventure. With future revenue, the fund would grow exponentially, assuming good governance was observed, and that her ‘partners’ didn’t cook their golden goose for greed. "... and that's what I call 'Venture Capitalism'." “St Peter… I need an Ioun Stone Translation as well.” Petra fought back the throbbing in her temple. “Your idea sounds like some ancient, forbidden magic for turning lead to gold! How do you know all this?” "Well Pats," Gwen replied seriously. "You know how we're born with the ability to tap into Elemental Planes?" Petra nodded. “As it happens.” Gwen grinned. "I am born tapping into the Material-Plane of Currency." "Gwen!" "Hahaha." Gwen dodged Petra's scowl. Retreating to the bed, she picked out a gleaming white ankle-length pants-suit with a matching jacket - in silk. “Here, put this one on. And those white heels.” “Saint Peter! You could kill somebody with those. And that jacket-” “Then try not to step on any toes.” Gwen stepped back and observed her work. “Wonderful, take a seat while I’ll do your face. You can't unbutton that, by the way.” "I don't know..." “Do me! Do me!” Lulan returned. “I want the thing that makes your eyelashes thicker.” “Alright.” Gwen laughed. “Kusu is going to lose his mind.” The party emerged from the levitation platform. The banquet took place in the grand ballroom on level 3, attended by most of the influential folk in the Fung building, as well as some of the local movers and shakers. Poor Lihong was expectedly nowhere to be seen, nor was her father, though Yuhua was there, and so was Dai. Gwen descended the stairs, covered from neck to ankle in a sheer, skin-tight silk dress in brilliant white, hand-printed with floral accents. She wore her hair in a messy bun, causing casual strands to fall elegantly about her face, accentuating her smokey eyes. As she flowed down the semi-circular stairs, a slit in her otherwise modest dress flashed her lithe legs, then hid them with every second step. Escorting Gwen was Petra, wearing an antique-white pant-suit likewise in silk. In contrast to Gwen's bun, Petra wore her hair loose, falling over her broad shoulders like a waterfall. Her husky-blue eyes, made more prominent by thickened lashes and her thick, ambitious lips, held the room hostage. Behind the two, like an adopted little sister, Lulan walked with teeth-jittering care on her kitten heels, taking every step as if her first. The boys, in contrast, lacking Gwen’s guidance, looked like the waitstaff. Richard had on a maroon vest and striped charcoal pants paired with brown Oxfords. Percy wore a borrowed tuxedo, while Kusu paired a mismatched pair of dark pants and dark blazer with a black bowtie, looking like a disgruntled valet. “I should have just stuck with the tuxedo…” Kusu moaned, too embarrassed to follow the girls too closely. “You looked like a funeral director!” Richard snorted. “Don't worry about it, mate, let the girls shine. We're just background characters. Besides, check that out-” The boys followed Richard’s gaze over to a group of local girls wearing what could only be described as nouveau-riche couture, exposing more skin than cloth. Just beyond the smiling girls was a buffet table full of Wildland goodies. “I see.” Kusu rubbed his hands. He couldn’t afford such fare back home in Shanghai. “Oh… they have South Sea Lobster.” Percy salivated. As a growing boy, he couldn’t say no to food. “Lea, keep an eye on Gwen. I’ll be… preoccupied,” Richard informed his Familiar, likewise gravitating toward the free food. Lea drifted lazily across the six-meter ceiling, invisibly coiling around a set of priceless chandeliers. Below Richard’s watchful guardian, Gwen entered the fray, becoming surrounded by young men who desired to know more about the hazel-eyed beauty from Shanghai. Petra meanwhile, became inundated by young women, wishing to know more about the pant-wearing beauty. Simply put, Petra was the sveltest human being they had ever beheld. “GWEN!” Dai’s voice called out. As a testament to the young man’s influence, a path opened almost instantly. The two shook. “It’s so wonderful to see you again.” Dai’s voice quivered with genuine emotion. “I’ve been thinking of you since that last time we parted on a sour note. Allow me to apologise again for any offence.” Gwen caught the stickybeaking women giving her daggers. “I've learned to think of it fondly.” Gwen leaned in, then brushed Dai across the cheek with her lips, giving him as much ‘face’ as she could muster without feeling excessively disgusted with herself. “I’ve been thinking of you as well. “ “You have?” Dai touched a hand to his face. “I am honoured.” “It's true. Whenever I think of you, I can't help but think of the favour you owe me. It plagues my sleep.” Gwen grinned mischievously. “Ha!” Dai snorted. “Of course, I dream of fulfilling it. It’s affecting my sleep as well. I think about our... exchange, day and night.” “Losing sleep? Hardly. You look well.” Gwen backed away, sensing that at least half of Dai's words were no longer attempts at playful humour. "How's life?" The young man looked less contrived than Gwen recalled. Attired in a cream tailored suit with a dark vest, Dai appeared significantly less douche-like and far more agreeable. “Still single,” Dai stated a little too quickly, brushing off death-stares from those around him. “Introduce me to your friends?” “Petra, this is Dai. Dai, this is Petra, my cousin and one of my best and closest companions.” Petra beamed at Gwen's announcement, her ruby lips parting to reveal pearly teeth. Petra's audience gave an audible moan. The young Russian woman was taller than even Gwen, making her one of the tallest people in the room, not to mention she was outfitted with four-inch peep-toe stilettos. With her bold and uncommonly handsome facial features typical of the Eastern European beauties, her ‘couture’ factor was off the charts. If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. “Hello,” Petra replied in that husky voice of hers, cool as anything. “And this is…” Gwen gestured, only to find that their petite companion was gone. Kusu was on his second plate when he noticed his sister holding a pheasant drumstick by the foiled knob, gnawing away beside the buffet table. “Lulu!” He hissed, quickly approaching her. “Don’t just eat it beside the tray! Take some, go to a corner, eat it out of sight, then come back for more!” Lulan scooped a drink from a startled waiter. “Put that down, that’s alcohol. Don’t make trouble for Gwen.” Lulan knocked back half a flute regardless. “Eww.” She spat half a mouthful back in, then placed the glass next to the condiments. "Mao, its white vinegar." The traumatised waiter stared at Lulan until Richard intervened. “Ah~, let her have her fun.” Richard joined them. “She needs to learn how to mingle. Just look at Percy.” Percy was busy chatting up a group of younger girls who all wanted to know more about his sister and her pants-wearing companion. Gwen's brother appeared entirely in his element, chattering away without so much as pausing for breath, eliciting bell-like laughter from his rapt audience. “Not keen?” Richard observed. "More than likely someone would be happy to warm your penthouse bed." “Not at all,” Kusu kept glancing at Lulan. “K-dog," Richard borrowed some of Tao's endearing vernacular. "The forbidden fruit is tempting, but it’ll only bring grief.” “What?” Kusu was watching the interaction between a middle-aged man and Lulan. “Where are you from? You look kind of familiar.” A Clanner in his forties was accosting Lulan. From the look of his scarlet mien, it was probably the wine talking. “Do you like the food here?” “Delicious.” Lulan nodded, chewing away on her drumstick. “Want to come with Uncle?” the man asked delightfully. “There’s even better food on the other table.” “There’s another table?!” Lulan blinked. "It's a dessert table," the man assured her. “HEY!” Kusu’s voice came from behind. The Clanner turned to behold a waiter dual-wielding a crab claw in either hand, one of had a chunk missing. Studying Kusu's face, something clicked within the man’s mind. “Hey, aren't you two the siblings kicked out by Huashan?” The man chuckled, struggling to fight back the alcohol. “Ha, you’re moonlighting as a waiter now?” “What? No!” Kusu lowered the claws. “We're guests!” The man gave him a look of pity. “Look, we’re all Clanners here. A bad turn could happen to anyone. Don’t let anyone say that Meng of Kunlun bullied a waiter from Huashan just because his chips are down." "Good Man." Richard gave the guy a thumbs up. Nodding, the Clanner turned to Lulan. “Eat up, lass.” He leered at her nubile body. “You won’t eat like this again for a while. Don’t worry; Uncle will keep your thieving a secret, eh? Just between you and me. If ever you need some cultivation resources…” “Get out of here!” Kusu growled. The man laughed out loud before snatching up an abandoned flute of wine left by the condiments to wandering away unsteadily. Richard observed the whole thing with captive interest. “What?” Kusu angrily bit into a Nordic crab claw. “It’s alright, K.” Richard patted him on the shoulder. “So long as you stick with Gwen and I. We’ll do ya right.” “They’re waiting for you inside.” Wang stopped outside the adjacent smoking room waiting for Gwen. The old Magus then turned to the Fung heir. “Master Dai, you are to remain here.” “I am?” Dai had been surprised when Wang came to spirit Gwen away. He was now doubly surprised that it was his father who was interested in Gwen. The old man wasn't thinking of having a young mistress, was he? His mother was no pushover. If his parents had a falling out, they might need to rebuild the Fung Group sky tower. “I mean, as he wishes.” Wang acknowledged his young master's piety. “Miss Song should rejoin you after thirty minutes, I would imagine.” “I wouldn’t bet on it.” Gwen turned on her heels. “Petra, can you keep me company? I imagine I could use some of your crystals in my demonstration. Master Wang, is that acceptable?” “Of course, Miss Song.” The door opened just enough for the two girls to pass. Leaving Dai standing outside scratching his head. The young master watched his smiling teacher, Magus Wang, close the door behind them. He was now alone, consciously so. He had spent the better part of the evening entertaining Gwen and her friend to the neglect of his usual social circles. “Feeling lonely?” Dai turned to see the tall Eurasian cousin and Gwen's brother, the grandson of Secretary Guo Song. “Not any more.” Dai called a waiter over to hydrate the trio while he changed out the flute of wine for a tall neck of Tsingtao. “I still haven’t thanked you for your service to Nantong, not to mention saving my cousin, the poor girl.” “It’s a tragedy.” Richard reached for a fresh bottle. The two clinked. “I hope she recovers.” “She’s a strong girl,” Dai agreed. “She’ll have the whole Clan behind her.” “That’s good to know.” “How about you, young master Song, are you enjoying the evening?” “I am, thank you, Master Fung.” “Call me Dai, please.” “Elder Brother Dai.” “Brother Percy," Dai replied, then snorted to himself. Percy appeared confused by Dai’s quip. “A potential suitor for our princess.” Richard raised a toast to Dai. “One of many Jasons come in pursuit of her, haha.” Dai paled. “She has many lovers?” Richard took a casual swig. “You don’t think she would?” “Well, of course, someone of her calibre. I mean… how many are we talking here?” Richard chuckled, evidently enjoying Dai’s growing displeasure. “It’s an expression,” Percy hurriedly interjected. “Jason was the leader of the Argonauts?” “A Clan of the Western world?” “No, no…” Percy struggled with the context. “It’s a myth, you know, Jason the hero, chasing after a golden treasure to woe Creusa, the daughter of King Corinth?” “So, its an expression of speech?” Dai regarded Richard accusingly. “She’s never had a boyfriend,” Percy stated with absolute confidence. Dai glanced at Richard, who grinned at him. “Why don't you ask her yourself?” Richard implored. “Not a single one?” Dai turned to Percy. “None.” Percy crossed his fingers behind him. Dai took a liberal swig of his beer. “Thanks, little brother.” He smiled at Percy far too happy. “If there’s anything you need in Shanghai, just let Big Brother Dai know, eh?” “Petra, if you would?” Gwen’s voice echoed across the conference room. The tea had long since cooled as her captive audience listened with mouths half open. Petra had constructed a ‘model’ of Gwen’s proposal. “Let me explain again so that we’re on the same page.” “Please!” Vice Chairman Tu reiterated. “Yes, once more. I too am lacking in comprehension.” Magister Quin was likewise eager to have the proposal clarified. The girl had drawn a pie in the sky that was impossible to ignore but also unlikely to exist. Nonetheless, it was right there in front of them, clear as the crystalline display. “I am happy to clarify.” Gwen exhibited a dazzling smile sweet enough to give the old men tooth decay. “As I was saying - your port is run at a loss. The administration - that's you gentlemen - fears that having costs subsidised by fees would make the venture unattractive for overseas shipping. To remain competitive, the port loses money every year to the tune of just under a million HDMs, made even via trade surplus. _Yours_ is an unsustainable model - think, how long could you run the place until it collapses under the burden of its weight? The more successful Nantong’s Tonglv Canal becomes, the more crystals it burns. The only advantage the CCP currently possesses is the fact that labour is cheap and China has massive internal consumption - but that won’t help increase the efficiency of the port, which desperately needs more transport Golems and freight staff, not to mention skilled Administrators to manage tax and accounts.” “ _As such_ \- Petra, can you empty the pie-chart? Thank you.” Gwen skirted around a circular tank constructed from Petra's crystalline mineral. “I propose abolishing the Port Fee altogether. Instead, we implement a new system utilising a mandatory _deposit_ , plus a flat, marginal administrative fee.” “I still don’t follow how getting rid of the docking fees would make the port currency.” Magister Chen folded his fingers. “It’s the _deposit_ ,” Patriarch Fung added helpfully. He was surprised himself at how quickly he understood Gwen’s ingenious proposal. The girl had a mind sharper than a void-tinged sword and as twisted as a Goblin warren. “Indeed, the _deposit_ is key. What we will do…” Gwen allowed Almudj’s Essence to circulate. “…is to create a Venture Fund using an Assurance system. When a ship arrives, it needs to 'deposit' with Natong’s Port Authority _10%_ of its manifest in crystals, stock, or promissory certificate, kept safe as a _bond_." The men nodded. “Vice Chair Tu, what is the average turn around for a freight ship?” “Three weeks for short haul, up to six for a long haul. Varies pending on crew numbers as well, as well as country of origin. Danish ships have the fastest turnaround, followed by the Americans and the Singaporeans and so on. Some ships stay for as long as three months if there are complications. “Indeed, now. Here’s the clincher. If a ship is capable of completing its transit without incident - _and_ if declared manifest and deposit pass scrutiny, then the ship receives a 100% refund on its bond. If a ship falsely reports on volume, displacement, and or freight, then a penalty is extracted from the bond. If there is contraband, they will lose their deposit pending appeal. In the case of piracy or smuggling, the entire cargo is forfeit anyway, and we can seize the ship." The men continued nodding. “This way, there is a great incentive for freight carriers to perform their tasks as quickly as possible and as lawfully as possible because in-effect, the port will service them for _free_ , barring, of course, a negligible admin-fee, and customs.” “Then how are we making crystals?” Vice Chairman Tu furrowed his brows. “They’re getting serviced for free!” “Petra?” Petra grew crystals into the ‘pie-chart’. “This is the deposit in our venture fund - it comes from the ships using Tonglv Canal.” They watched as the 'chart' filled with blue and pink crystals. "If you would notice, the blue crystals are time sensitive. The pink crystals are long term.” "The blue crystals will disappear after thirty seconds. The Pink, sixty. Using the information provided by Vice Chair Tu, I am splitting the ratio sixty to forty." As the earlier injected crystals began to disappear, new ones replaced them. “What do you see?” "The crystals are ever-present, the volume is persistent so long as the shipping doesn't cease." "Yes. Petra, can you increase the overall volume?" The 'pie' on the table grew to double its size. "Growth of Nantong, as you can see, does not impact the flow rate, only the volume." A look of understanding began to spread on the faces of Vice Chairman Tu and Magister Chen. “So you’re saying, as long as there’s this 10 per cent deposit in our coffers at all times, it is as though the crystals are ours to spend? Due to the Sink Fund's possession of these circulating 'deposits'?" “Under careful management, of course,” Gwen reiterated. “The Sink fund's capital flow cannot fall below a certain threshold. Petra, if you please.” Half of the container emptied. The trio noted that the state of decay remained constant and that still, a portion the 'funds' existed perpetually. "The model is sound as long as the amount paid out each day is sustainably supplied by the income." Gwen then moved to the opposite end of the table. “For now, I am going to assume that we are in possession of 50% of the Sink Fund, which Patriarch Fung estimates to be…” “1.4 Million HDMs…” “Thank you. Patriarch. You are very helpful.” Against all the odds, the patronised Shen felt rather good about himself. He was the first to grasp Gwen’s idea, and he was the first to understand her scheme. “Now, we establish a second Fund: The Nantong Port Authority Venture Fund. The Fund will service the Port Authority directly. I'll stick with 50% of the Sink Fund." Gwen portioned the '50%' slice, separating a sliver of about 10%. “This is our initial cut. 3% to each of you, and 1% for me - this will be our administration strata, levied against the fund.” The three men regarded one another carefully. Gwen felt they needed another push. "Let's not have a misunderstanding," she explained. "What I am proposing isn't something as corrupt as skimming crystals from a government project. We have to _earn_ our keep. Petra, can you make me three rectangles, three sizes, please?" Petra performed her duties without complaint. "This largest block-" Gwen raised the brick. "Is the Venture Fund, the 40%. Think of it as our Investors' assets. We BORROW currency from this fund to invest." She took a marker and drew a line between the large block and a smaller one. "This is our Venture Firm. We will direct what investments the fund will make. Our initial income is the 10% consultancy levied on the fund. New levies will apply pending performance." Gwen then laid her hand on the smallest block. "This is a portfolio under the Venture Fund, owned by the fund, but invested by us. This one is called Warehouse. Petra, can I get a few more of those? Thanks." Gwen drew a line between the 'Fund' block and the smallest one, labelling it 'Warehouse'. "This one is Freight." "This one is Machinery." "This one is Real Estate." "This one is Staff and Training." "This one is for Rest and Relaxation." "This one..." Soon, the structure was evident for all to see. "Let's me explain how each of these portfolios will generate wealth for the venture." “Take real estate for example: once built, a warehouse can be rented out to increase the revenue of the port itself. Shipping companies are always in need of storage. What’s the rental on a 100 twenty-foot equivalent unit Warehouse?” “About 10 HDMs a month in Singapore.” Vice Chair Tu answered. “How many is Nantong hoping to build in its 2004 Expansion?” “About 500.” “That’s 5,000 HDMs per month of income, less cost of operation. What's preventing the expansion from happening?" "Tied up funding from the Central Bank?" Magister Chen made an 'O' with his lips. "I see!" Gwen picked up another block. "This portfolio, we can execute very quickly. How much are Golem rentals?” “25 HDMs for standard cargo-mover unit per 5-day cycle, excluding pilot, excluding fuel.” "How are we for pilots? "There are more pilots than Golems in Nantong..." “Cost of machinery?” “About 1750 HDMs for a Mitsubishi unit.” “In 350 days or 70 cycles, the Golems would have paid for themselves. Not to mention if they wish to hire our pilots, that’s an additional charge. Give it a three-year cycle, and we’ll refresh our fleet - yes Gentlemen - Nantong's _fleet_ of Construction and Freight Golems! _Sell the old loaders or trade them in!_ Again, the operation is scalable!” The men were nodding so much they were beginning to resemble chooks bobbing for feed. “And that’s stage 1! Stage 2!” Gwen continued, picking up more crystal slabs. “Nantong is a port city, but the city itself is closed off to our overseas visitors, all lonely seamen with currency to spend. Stage 2 will be the construction of a _free economic zone_ within the port itself! Souvenirs, hotels, restaurants, bars! Whatever those sailors are earning, they should leave at least 30% of their pay packet in Nantong! The employment this could provide for the local NoMs would also greatly reduce strain on the Governor's coffers.” Looking at Gwen, the men thought a specific something that would most definitely strip the sailors of their hard earned pay packet. Assuming upstairs was willing, perhaps Stage Two would proceed even faster than Stage One. “ _And all of this!_ ” Gwen pointed to the model. " _Is scalable!_ Think of it, gentlemen, what is the best course of action for any freight travelling through Nantong toward Shanghai? To report manifest _honestly_ and abide by our laws _legally_. They will suffer _no charge_ at the end of the day, who wouldn’t want that? Furthermore, once our shipyards begin operation, the port will repair and service their ships at a rate just below our competitors. We will be able to use the Sink Fund to subsidise our labourers better than any other port in China. If freight-carriers want to employ a _port_ that doesn’t impact their bottom line, all they need is provide _ten per cent_ of their honestly reported manifest! At the ends of which they get back in _full_. Who wouldn't want that?” “Now, in addition to reduced operating expense from encouraging best practice...” Gwen told Petra to grow a mass of _green_ crystals. "We have the gains from our portfolios, owned by the Venture Fund." Gwen added the green crystals to the fund. "Time passes. Expansion continues. After Stage 1-" More and more green crystals piled onto the fund. "It gets fed back into the Venture Fund." The fund that had consisted of pink and blue crystals now possessed more and more greens even as it continued to expand. "As the Port grows, so does the Fund, the more traffic we service, the larger our liquid capital. The more capital we have to provide extra services, the more customers the port attracts! Furthermore, the withdraw ratio from the Sink Fund can be increased, so long as currency outgoing matches incoming shipping plus portfolio income.” Gwen then apportioned green crystals in front of each of her audience members, as well as a tiny sliver for herself. "If you wish to play it safe, our fees can be extracted from the proceeds, rather than the fund itself." Magister Chen touched a hand to his face. “Wocao, I am sweating!” the old Mage laughed. “By Mao, you’ve made this old man sweat!” “I am in awe.” Vice-Chairman Tu wiped a trail of drool from his lips. “Well done, Gwen.” Patriarch Fung felt as though he’d sat through an hour-long sauna. “Mao! Look at the time!” The men stared at the clock. Thirty minutes had turned into two-and-a-half hours. “The inner workings of our economic model has to be kept confidential,” Gwen warned them. “Our competitors will learn of it eventually, but by then, we would have stolen their customers and locked in our clients with loyalty service and membership discounts.” “A close-system ecology?” Patriarch Fung recalled Gwen boasting about such a thing in the first hour. “A closed-loop ecosystem,” Gwen corrected the Patriarch. “Well done, Sir.” “Hahaha!” Patriarch Shen gloated. “Well, gentlemen?” Vice-Chairman Tu turned to his partners. “I am in!” Magister Chen nodded at Gwen. “I cannot see why we should not proceed.” “I was ready the moment I called the two of you,” Patriarch Fung told a white-lie, winking at Gwen. “Guangshao?” “I am happy to be a part of this venture.” Guangshao Tu was already imagining the accolades he would receive after five years, when Nantong becomes the ‘new miracle’ of southern China, completely demolishing all expectations set by the upper echelon. That the operating expense of the Port may even turn a profit would blow the minds of the old men sitting atop the Party’s thrones. There was also the three per cent 'bonus'. In a few years, his family would be swimming in Crystals to the tune of hundreds of thousands of HDMs a year. If nothing else, it would pave the way for his eventual chairmanship among the twelve Vice General-Secretaries of the CCP, an enormously expensive endeavour. Patriarch Fung meanwhile, was dreaming of a day when he could finally stand toe to toe with Wang Enterprises as one of Shanghai’s the Big Ten. Knowing that Gwen was related to the Patriarch of the Wang Group furthermore eased his mind, knowing that Gwen wouldn’t want a conflict of interest to impact her 1 per cent stake. Lastly, Magister Chen, who had been brought on as a technical consultant on international trade and to serve as the CCP’s inside man on the matter, could only think about the absurd volume of resources he would soon access to continue his research. Perhaps in time, he could donate to Jianqiao and finally get that damn west wing of the library completed. ‘The Chen Quin West Wing’ the plaque would read, and his portrait would benevolently look down on students as they entered the hall. In front of the smiling men, Petra dispelled her crystal display, sensing the greed radiating from the men like an odour. Astronomical numbers had been tossed back and forth between Gwen and the men as though they meant nothing at all. She glanced at Gwen, unsure of what to make of her cousin. What would they call her now? Gwen Song of the Money Tree?

The men each extended a hand. “For our mutual benefit, I shall abide by our agreement and keep our methods confidential,” Gwen began, shaking Patriarch Fung’s hand. The man suppressed a wince when his rough palms enveloped Gwen’s own, her delicate white fingers gripping his old bones like steel rods. “Well said,” the Patriarch concurred. “As will I.” The aspiring Chairman Tu shook Gwen's hand, then Shen's as well, paling at the firmness of Gwen’s dainty fingers. “I will abide by our accord.” Magister Chen shook Gwen’s hand, then shook out his fingers. “My word, you have a firm grip.” “Sorry,” Gwen apologised, giving the men an unnervingly coy look. "It's the excitement, you understand.” “As anyone's would. Gwen, what are your immediate plans?” Shen enquired. It had been some time since he had felt so stirred, and to think they were safe in a building and not holding the fort against a screeching horde of Beastmen! “I’ll be going back to Shanghai,” Gwen informed them. “I’ve got to train for the IIUC. Perhaps leave a liaison with me so that I can continue to refine our venture. The devil, as they say, is in the micromanagement. A workspace where we can discuss matters in private would be ideal.” “I’ll send Dai with you. The rascal could stand to learn a few things.” Fung snorted. “All he does is socialise all day. It would make me very happy if you could straighten him out.” “I'd appreciate that, Patriarch.” When Gwen bestowed no particular prejudice against Shen's blatant ploy, their other partners took this to imply the Patriarch's infamous son had no effect on her what so ever. “I’ll send someone from my office as well.” Vice-Chairman Tu pinched his double-jowls. “I have a young protege who could benefit from broadening his horizons.” “No need for intermediaries, you may contact me directly.” Magister Chen was going all out. Of the three men, he possessed the least wealth, though he enjoyed greater seniority when it came to the trust of the CCP. “Here’s my Glyph. Anytime, Gwen.” “An old goat grazing on tender grass. Eh, Quin?” Patriarch Shen burst into a snorting chortle. “Hahaha!” the Magister shot Shen a look of disdain. “Gwen's far too talented for the likes of me! You're a braver man than I am, sending out your heir as bait. Be careful little-Dai doesn't get eaten!” Shen ignored Chen's rebuttal. Instead, he sent off a Message. “Dai! Get in here!” It took all but ten seconds for the door to open, revealing Richard, Percy and Dai. Richard looked his usual composed self. Beside him, Gwen’s brother and the Fung heir had a hint of colour to their faces from being caught red-handed listening at the door. The banquet was long over by now, and the three had been killing time by translating snippets of conversation drifting through the gaps. Candidly, the guards' convenient ignorance had also been a part of the Patriarch's intent. “Sorry for the wait,” Gwen apologised. "Did you have a good meal? Where's Lulu and Kusu?" Dai floundered into the room, circulating mana to keep his head clear and his face pale as to appear entirely sober. “Father. Uncle Tu. Uncle Chen.” “Dai,” the Patriarch addressed his son. “You are to stay with Gwen in Shanghai.” “It'll be my pleasure.” Dai glanced at Gwen, grinning broadly. “I’ll be in your care, Gwen.” “Same here, Dai.” Gwen smiled back, realising the young man had gotten the wrong idea entirely. “Ahem!” The Patriarch cleared his throat when Tu and Chen both took on taunting expressions. “Gwen is very precious to me, your Uncle Tu, and your Uncle Chen. You’re to make sure she’s perfectly safe while in Shanghai.” Dai caught the mockery in Gwen's youthful eyes, juxtaposed against his father’s awkward attempt at preserving his face. “Yessir!” Dai bowed. “I’ll do my best, Sir.” “Anything happens to her,” Patriarch Fung grumbled. “Bring your head back on an iron platter.” “It’s a silver platter, Sir,” Gwen corrected the Patriarch politely. “I stand corrected.” Patriarch Fung gave Gwen a curt nod. “Teach him well; he is my heir, after all.” Whatever alcohol that had inundated Dai's bloodstream was now perspiring through his pores. What in the Great Leader's name had just happened? Why was his father showing Gwen such deference? Why did it feel like he'd been sold? Looking at Gwen in her flawless white dress with its floral accents, he noticed for the first time just how imposing she was, how she appeared larger than life. And to correct his father? Dai couldn't recall the last time his father confessed to being 'corrected'. “Gwen, when do you leave?” Dai enquired of Gwen, taking over his father's mantle. “Let us show our hospitality for a few days.” “I am afraid I have to train.” Gwen shook her head respectfully. “The selection for the IIUC is getting close.” “I’ll put in a good word,” Shen stated firmly. He then rose from his seat to face his son. “Dai, regarding Gwen - respect her wishes.” That was the second time Shen Fung had made it very clear to his son that Gwen was beyond reproach. Though dismally confused, Dai knew better than to challenge his father’s decree. Briefly, he could see the other two chuckling to themselves. Was that it? Was the joke that she was too good for him and that he's the bunch-back toad trying to mount the elegant swan? He, the most eligible bachelor he knew, a wishful troglodyte? For now, the young man swallowed his wounded pride. He turned toward Gwen, then deeply bowed, as if she were the senior. “I’ll be in your care, Miss Song!” “Just Gwen, Dai. We’re friends, are we not?” Dai looked to his father for affirmation. Shen’s brows knitted, forming a barely perceptible wrinkle of frustration his forehead. “Of course, Gwen.” “Good lad,” Magister Chen affirmed happily. “Gwen, I am tempted to send you my apprentice as well, but that would be a conflict of interest. He's a part of the Jianqiao IIUC team. If the two of you do meet, please be gentle. His name is Lianchen Yen; he also goes by Lachlan.” “I’ll be sure to greet my Senior,” Gwen promised. She then playfully made a mock-swooning motion. “Now, if you don’t mind, I am famished.” “I’ll have the kitchen prepare something." Dai immediately retreated from the room. He needed time to reevaluate. As he passed Richard, the young man struck out a hand. “Welcome to the team, mate.” Richard grinned. As they shook, Dai wondered what Richard meant by his lopsided grin. He then extended a hand to Percy, who answered with a shake and a bow, as proper from a junior to a senior. Beside the two, Richard chuckled. For some reason, he was reminded of Gwen's Draconic-Deerhounds. Another dog added to her pack? How many strays would Gwen assemble before she was satisfied? "She has too many secrets we're not privy to. Be very cautious, Dai. Chen's right in that she might just eat you alive." "She's just a girl." Dai worked up a retort. Once Gwen and her party were sent to their suite, Shen gathered his two children to confer upon them the dangers of being besotted by outward appearances. "That doesn't mean much coming from you. Mao, the information you gathered is completely out of date, or wrong to begin with," Yuhua joined the conversation. "I was there, Dai. The girl's Lightning Beast is the closest thing to a Kirin I have ever seen. Her Void Worm as well is far more potent than you give her credit for." "My information is three months old!" Dai sulked. The first thing Yuhua did was to check with their Master of Records, only to find that Dai's collated information on the girl was leagues away from what she had observed in the dungeon. "Her hounds were Draconic, Dai." Yuhua illustrated her point by swimming a hand through the air. Shen had made Yuhua give a detailed account of the Water Monkey Dungeon. "That Kirin commands them via some sort of telepathy as well. Meaning its a Spirit, and a Draconic one at that." "Dai." Shen stood over his heir. "Without venturing into the Ruìshī's lair, one will never acquire a Ruìshī cub. Do you understand?" "Yes, Father." Dai's outward appearance as the dutiful son betrayed his seething sense of shame. In truth, he struggled to reconcile Gwen's striking face and her long, lithe limbs with the terrifying story told by his sister. He had known Gwen since her arrival in Shanghai; he knew she was prideful - all Lightning Mages were prideful, but for him to be subordinate to the girl? "You must not provoke her." Shen stood with his back toward his son, his mandarin jacket an oxymoronic mask of the man's lofty ambition. "From Yuhua's story, we know that she is a sentimentalist. Touch her with your generosity. If not for herself, then for her brother, her friends, her family. Do you understand, Dai?" This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Yes, Father." Dai bowed deeply. His father's words were sending shivers down his spine. The most difficult debt to repay, after all, was the debt of generosity. “Dai? Dai!” Gwen politely nudged their newest companion. “I am listening,” Dai lied, doing his best to keep still. Once the meeting was over, Gwen and her party had retreated to their penthouse suite to rest up for the night. After Dai personally brought up her late supper, Gwen chose to induct Dai into their little circle. The other's didn't much like Dai, but she saw in the man a valuable asset. Though the Patriarch's intent was self-evident - Dai was nonetheless a useful body to place in the way of potential trouble. The silver-spooned jackaroo was, in Gwen’s eyes, a triple threat: he was a Wealth-cum-Power Progeny rolled into one, and a bonafide Clanner. Clothed via his family connections, Dai was a human-shaped skeleton key for Shanghai’s high society. Furthermore, so long as Gwen and Shen’s economic interests aligned, she was confident in Dai’s loyalty. Of course, that loyalty was itself ephemeral. Gwen did not doubt that when the numbers came in, her partners were bound to regret agreeing to that seemingly innocuous single per cent of the Venture Fund’s revenue. But Gwen had a plan for that eventuality as well - one that reached fruition after the IIUC; when she could finally declare herself her Master's Apprentice and the sibling-in-craft of Alesia and Gunther. Likewise, Nantong needed at least a year or two to grow into its new-found wealth, if not longer. Gwen reminded herself that regardless of her venture's success, her material investments were temporary. Ultimately, when she left the country, it was far more likely that the CCP would attempt to usurp her share. Likewise, her deal with the House of M could be a hit or miss. Mayuree was a sweetie, but she was one of many. With that many siblings, it was unlikely she would have much sway if they refused to pay Gwen her due. Perhaps this was why Mages, in general, had such a disdain for finance, just as her babulya had held so little regard for currency. The accumulation of magical prowess was personal growth, once gained, Spellcraft, like knowledge, directly empowered oneself. Wealth, on the other hand, could be pilfered, stolen, usurped and squandered. As a lyrical maestro once rhymed, 'mo-money, mo-problems'. Over on the couch, Dai sat rigid as a sculpture as Ariel and Caliban kept him company. Her Void Fiend was coiling itself beside Shen’s first-born son, sniffing his tapered suit and dribbling grey drool over his tailored pants. Ariel meanwhile, sat on its haunches, molesting Dai’s tie, occasionally poking Dai's face with a prehensile whisker. Caught between a Kirin and an all-devouring nightmare, Dai chose the Path of Petrification. The reason being was that he had earlier sidled close to Gwen and placed a hand on her lap and another around her shoulders. Though Gwen possessed championship-level patience, her Familiars were far too sensitive to her repressed loathing. “I've Messaged you the preliminary staff roster.” Gwen tapped a data slate. The rest of her party had gone to bed or were meditating in the privacy of their rooms. Lulan chose to make full use of the building’s facilities and had gone down for a massage, joined by a paranoid Kusu, fearful that Lulan might K.O. the masseuse. “Why so many?” Dai glanced over the numbers, baulking at the complexity of the organisational chart spread out like a dyslexic spider web. “Lawyers, accountants, auditors and managers. We'll need to segregate the Departmental work as well. I suggest your Father takes care of the auditing since he’s the Governor-Secretary of Nantong. Vice Chair Tu can take care of the accounts and day-to-day Administration. Magister Chen should be in charge of the of the Investment Portfolios, with individual managers reporting to him directly.” “So many divisions and sub-divisions!” Dai spluttered. “Wouldn’t that make running the business even more complicated?” Oh, you poor lamb, Gwen groaned inwardly. “Checks and balances,” she instructed her novice companion. “Think about the inner strata of the CCP. You’ve got the MSS, who oversees the Districts. Then you’ve got Internal Service, who oversees its Secretarial departments. On top of that, there’s the CCDI, who oversees the MSS and Internal Security. All separate entities - independent from the Party's members. We’re going to be dealing with A LOT of crystals, Dai. What do you think is going to happen if we leave it to people we ‘trust’?” “So we shouldn’t trust anyone, not even people from my Clan?” ‘We’, Gwen noted. “Trust is too strong a word.” She coaxed Ariel into her lap. Dai’s eyes flittered between the white flesh of Gwen’s smooth thighs and the soft fur of her white Kirin. Catching Dai’s desirous ogling, Ariel wiggled its serpentine body, taunting the man with its soft tummy. Amused, Gwen then kissed Ariel's forehead. “Dai, what we’re doing is Venture Capitalism. We’re making crystals from the void. When there’s _that_ much profit - people are bound to go crazy. I would not be surprised at all if our operation became riddled with fiscal parasites.” “Preposterous!” Dai snarled. “Heads will roll!” “You can bet on it.” Gwen kneaded the frog of Ariel’s front hooves, waving its paws at Dai. “Don't tempt fate. Or else, by the 2005's financial year, there may not be a Clan Fung left…” “…” Dai’s expression implied stubborn disbelief. "People are going to steal from _us,_ Dai," Gwen assured her protegè. "My job is to make it harder. Your job is to make sure they never steal from us again." “You can trust me,” Dai stated bluntly. “I know I can. You’re my Second in this matter. First things first though, we need to parcel out future duties. Believe it or not, I won’t be around Shanghai forever. In the meanwhile, I'll be prioritising the IIUC.” “Why?” Dai was incredulous. “You're going away? You’re standing to make… hundreds of thousands of HDMs! You could buy yourself a position in the Party with my father's help.” “Not interested,” Gwen refuted Dai's offer. “What if I told you that I possess loftier goals?” “You mean a Tower? Is that why you're collecting Crystals?” “Among other ambitions.” Gwen smiled mysteriously. “I am only seventeen, Dai. Think of it as preparing for an uncertain future.” Dai understood, though only in an abstract sense. For one such as he, becoming a part of the CCP's inner circle during his middle-years was par for the course. It was the reason for his youthful indiscretion. Now was a period of rare freedom: he could party, date beautiful women, go on adventures and act the young master. When the time came, he would be tied down by a political marriage, inherit a position within the Clan, then embroil himself into a life of realpolitik. His was a gilded cage - one he had long convinced himself happy to inhabit. “Your father has a lot riding on you, Dai,” Gwen illustrated the point by stabbing a finger at his gut. The girl's vivid irises appeared to glow as she delivered her next words. “If you can pull this off -if you are of help to me. If you can hold the fort even after I’ve gone back to Sydney.” Dai scratched his chin. Gwen decided to push in another direction. “Look, because I trust you so much, I'll be honest.” Gwen lowered her pitch. “We don’t need you.” "What?!" Dai turned to glare at Gwen menacingly. "SHAAA!" Caliban snapped the space directly in front of Dai's nose. "Cali! Be nice!" "Shaa~." Dai sat back down. “ _But_ ,” Gwen continued, amused by the boy and the man jousting for control within Dai’s head. “You know what? I think this is a test from your father. If you can’t even take care of a little business, how can you stand to inherit the Clan of Fung? For how many years does your father have to labour? How old does Patriarch Shen have to be, before he can rest? Wheres your filial piety, Dai? You Clanners fancy yourselves Confucian-scholars, don’t you?” Dai's face grew tense. “Don’t take _my_ words for it. I am nobody important,” Gwen assured the young man. “This is _your_ task to fuck up, Dai. I can't imagine how disappointed your father will be when you do.” “I not going to fail!” Dai snapped. He couldn't believe he had wanted to date the girl. She's terrible! Domineering! Nothing like the soft-spoken southerner girls he preferred. He knew that she was unscrewing his head in ways he couldn’t discern and still he got caught. In a rare moment of passion, the truth escaped his lips. “If you don't want me beside you, just say so!” Ah~, the glass ego of a spurned child, Gwen subtly rolled her eyes. A kid-dult. “Prove me wrong.” She met his eyes, leaning closer. "Make this work." Dai met her head on. “So, can I trust you?” Her lips moved hypnotically. “Of course!” Dai fought down baser instincts. Her face was too close, her breath so moist and warm. They weren't alone, but the others were asleep by now. Was she doing this on purpose? It's now or never! Summoning supernatural courage, he leaned in, hoping that Gwen wouldn’t pull back in time and thus, share a quick kiss to seal the deal. “Shaa!” A mouthful of tasteless grey goo greeted him. Something slimy withdrew with a sucking sound. Caliban snapped shut its carapace, feeling bashful for having been kissed by someone other than Gwen, feeling like a virgin, touched for the very first time. “I need to go.” Dai stood so fast he almost head-butted Gwen in the nose, sending Caliban tumbling from the couch. “Goodbye.” “See you in Shanghai!” The door slammed shut. "Thanks for the save, Cali." "Shaaa!" "EEee?" "No, Ariel, you could have triggered his Contingency Ring." "EE!" Gwen yawned. Below her, a vista of Nantong stretched out, revealing countless labourers working under the illumination of Daylight spells. Touching a hand to her Familiars, Gwen cautioned herself. Dealing with the Fungs was like wrestling with eels, one false move, and she'd have a slippery situation on her hands. The next morning, after a buffet breakfast, Gwen and her Party arrived at the newly built Nantong ISTC station. The oval construct remained under construction, though for reasons of government business, a subsection had being made operational. Two hundred odd HDMs later, the party arrived at the Shanghai ISTC interchange. A guard examined their papers, apologised to Dai for the delay, then escorted the group to the transit terminal. Dai then called for a minibus to taxi the party to Fudan. Arriving after only two hours of travel from start to finish, Gwen thanked Dai for the Fung’s generosity. “I’ll find a place to set up an office.” Dai looked around Gouding B1. “This place looks serviceable. Any vacancies?” “You’ll have to speak to the real estate.” Gwen pointed to the agency whose shopfront, illuminated by a large VMR logo, was visible even from B1's lobby. “I’ve got an apartment near The Bund, so I am only thirty minutes away,” Dai returned thoughtfully. “You’ve got my Message Glyph?” “I do.” Gwen tapped her bracelet. “If you can’t find me, talk to Richard.” “If I am out Questing, talk to Kusu.” Richard pointed to their erstwhile Clanner. “Yep. I’ll be around,” Kusu answered awkwardly, annoyed that Richard always put him on the spot. “Kusu is very reliable.” Gwen came to her companion's rescue. “You can trust him…” Dai measured Kusu from head to toe, unimpressed. He knew Gwen had picked up two strays from Huashan, though that was the extent of it. “Do I know you from somewhere? Kusu?” “Lulan and I are ex-Sword Mages from Huashan,” Kusu confessed bashfully. “If you recall, we met during last year's gathering of the Clans.” “Sorry,” the heir of Clan Fung dismissed Kusu. “I don’t… recall.” “You remember my sister, right?” Kusu pointed to Lulan. They looked at Lulan as she plucked out a flower from B1's garden. “Nope.” Dai shrugged. “She defeated a prodigy from your Clan! The Water Transmuter, what’s his name? Qianli?” Dai’s gaze darted between Lulan and Kusu; recognition dawned. “She's the blade-berserker?” Dai bemusedly studied the teenager with a baby face. “…” Kusu recalled that indeed, his sister had carried that infamous moniker for many years. “She’s… pretty cute.” Dai grinned contemplatively. "She's no longer insane?" Noting their attention, Lulan looked up. Catching Dai’s handsome face, she gave him a heartwarming smile. “Nope, nothing's changed. She’s a fucking psycho,” Kusu stated with solemnity. “When Lulan gets going, she’s a complete maniac. I should lock her up.” “She seems fine to me?” “She's an unsheathed blade,” Kusu assured their newest companion. “When Lulu's iron blood is up, she's indiscriminate. She'll cut you, no joke.” Dai motioned for Gwen to join him. “You’re friends with this lot?” He frowned. "Such disloyalty to his own family! How can you trust this man?" Gwen had been watching the whole thing with captive interest. “Don't be so quick to judge, Dai. Kusu’s a good bloke. He is loyal to his sister without being an idiot about it. He's level-headed and risk-aversive. We need someone like that around here." “Whatever you say.” Dai grunted. “I’ll contact you once I have the office set up." “You got it, champ.” Her party breathed out a sigh of relief when Dai finally departed. “What now?” Kusu was feeling rather self-satisfied, thanks to Gwen's praise. “Tower Two?” Gwen pointed to the two buildings visible from B1. “Lulu's carrying about a hundred collectables in that Ring. You can leave the Cores with me; I’ll take em to Mayuree. When do you need the crystals.” “We’re almost out,” Kusu confessed. “January rent is due soon, and there’s next Semester’s tuition, textbooks, training hall bookings, Cognisance sessions…” Gwen patted Kusu on the shoulder. She gazed at the guileless Lulan, who wouldn’t have minded even if she had to live in a Portable Habitat, awakening each day to that maddening grey expanse. "We're going now?" Lulan raised her head. "Yep," Gwen replied, giving her first genuine smile since Dai joined them. "Let's collect some _loot_!"

Gwen requested an extra-spacious inspection room at the Fudan Tower to house the ill-gotten gains they had acquired in Nantong. Dubiously, she recalled that back in Sydney, their student-device could be used to log kills. If so, why was a tier 1 city using such primitive methods? While they waited for the clerk, Petra elucidated that indeed, for a decade, the Tower did employ kill-counters via Magitech bracelets. Unfortunately, a string of rotten-apple Enchanters resulted in the Tower reverting to the medieval method of having Appraisers sort through trophies manually to verify totals. It was an imperfect system, but it functioned without major incident. The body-count took the better half of the day, tallying finally at a hundred and eighteen Water Monkeys, plus one Priest and one Chieftain. Gwen wasn't herself too exact on the number, but Richard seemed satisfied. Additionally, against all expectation, Yuhua Fung came through with her promise, with Nantong signing over 400 HDMs and 50 CC. Ultimately, the party left the Tower with 900 HDMs in currency chips and a total of 536 CCs, having received 30 CCs for the Chieftain, and 20 CCs for the Priest. With Gwen forfeiting the HDMs to her peers, each of the members thus received 180 HDMs and 89 CCs, with the extra going to Richard for arranging the trip. The party then took the liberty of having lunch in a European style cafe under B1, with Gwen 'shouting' her friends afternoon tea. Once settled, Gwen mentally reviewed her account, arriving at 290 CCs - more if enterprising Mages had since forked out for Morden’s modified spells. “How about you, Richard?” Gwen was curious as to her cousin's progress. “How far along are you?” “I am sitting on 450 or so,” Richard confessed. “You've given me a windfall, Gwen! Without your involvement, quests tend to be much more mundane, haha, and of course, far less rewarding.” “Oh, you know me. I am a vortex for trouble,” Gwen joked self-depreciatively. “That’s a remarkable amount, Dick. You’ve been here barely a year, and you’re already a quarter of the way there! Ever thought to take a break? Don't burn yourself out.” “I’ll rest when I hit 2000 CCs,” Richard lamented his pace. “You got more lucrative ventures lined up?” “Potentially - I’ll do whatever I can to help,” Gwen promised, full of admiration for Richard's ceaseless work-ethic. Though she waxed no sentiment for Aunty Tali and was even less fond of Uncle Kwan, she knew their elevation was necessary for Richard's emancipation. "Enough about me," Richard interrupted his cousin and companion. "How about you? You've got a shitload on your plate, but you keep stacking it." "Richard's got a point," Petra agreed. "I take it you're going ahead with this 'consultation' for the Fungs?" "And for the House of M." Gwen's reply surprised them all. "I’d imagine they’d be up to their necks in inquiries by now.” “What about your training?” Kusu cut in, always the voice of moderation. “There’s not that much time until the IIUC. I would be begging for instructions and perfecting my spells, day and night.” “I’ll manage.” Gwen smiled. “I can’t be training every waking hour. Taking breaks and switching it up will do me better than living like some hermit Sage." “Don’t neglect your utility spells,” Petra warned her cousin. "But I suppose you're not wrong. From what I've heard, the IIUC selection isn't wholly combat focused, albeit the inability to fight your way through a scenario is itself disqualifying." “I'll make sure I don't miss anything.” Gwen brushed a few lose strands from her face. Outside on the avenue, she noticed that the mulberry trees were already bare and skeletal. Out of the blue, she felt overwhelmed by a melancholic diaspora. "What's wrong?" Petra noticed the sudden change in Gwen's demeanour. “You know what I really miss? The Australian summer.” “How so?” Petra was a winter girl; Shanghai's blanketing December snow always reminded her of simpler times in Moscow. “Back home.” Gwen stretched out her body, wiggling against the soft fabric. “December’s the hottest month of the year. Blue sky, aqua seas, red earth, flaming galahs, olive blood gums and golden sand. You slap on some sun-screen, slip into a swimsuit, then loaf under an umbrella. When the Tasman Sea blows in at high-tide, all your fatigue just blows away.” “That does sound wonderful.” The Petra of winter tried her best to imagine the Gwen of summer. "You know, I've never been to a beach like the one you described." "Are there beaches here in Shanghai?" "There are artificial ones for the well-to-do." Kusu pointed a finger toward the south-east. "To my knowledge, there's an artificial one in Jinshan that's open in the summer." "Do you have a swimsuit, Petra?" Gwen wondered what style would suit their leggy cousin. Petra shook her head. "Lulu, you bought one last time, right?" "I'll buy another one! I want one that's tied with strings!" Kusu began to perspire; his swimming eyes begged Gwen to put an end to the topic. The last thing he needed was for Lulan to start swinging iron-blades at the beach, especially one made for the wealthy, indolent scions of the powerful. "I guess I am in the same boat..." Gwen made a subtle pivot. "Something for the future then. I do miss the beach though." "Did the two of you go the beach often?" Lulan inquired innocently, trying to vicariously experience a scene she'd only ever seen on idol Lumen-casts. “Oh, all the time!” Richard chimed in, grinning from ear to ear. “Gwen would be lying down her beach towel, _topless_ , and she'd look around for someone to rub creaming sunscreen into her back. The day’s hot as anything, so she’s pretty much drenched in sunlight, getting a tan. Then there’s the sand, it gets everywhere, you know, on your feet, the towels, on her butt cheeks, when you're putting in a good rub...” Percy pulled a hood over his head, entering a world of monkish meditation. “Richard, stop it!” Gwen punched her cousin. “Oof!” Richard nursed his shoulders. “That’s going to leave a bruise.” “You deserved it,” she scolded him. "Don't listen to him, Lulu. We did no such thing. I was too young to hang out with him in Sydney. Think about it. I'd be fourteen at best." “Kusu.” Richard slowly turned to Lulan’s eerily quiet brother, his eyes flashing. “Why’re are you sitting so awkwardly?” “Mia! I AM BACK!" Gwen Dimension Doored into Mayuree's penthouse, fancying herself Cosmo Kramer bursting in on Elaine and Jerry. After half a year of showing up uninvited for dinner, she was beginning to appreciate the genius of Seinfield's humour. "Oh, Marong, when did you get back?” She couldn't actually see Marong from the lobby, but she could smell him. Though Mayuree's penthouse had a double-storey ceiling, it wasn’t so spacious as to negate the stench of tobacco permeating the open living room. Their eyes met. Marong's eyes bulged. Gwen immediately examined her attire to ensure there wasn't a wardrobe malfunction. “CHI!” To her bewilderment, Mayuree's half-brother leapt from the couch, kicked the sofa, flipped it over, then dove behind the L-shaped barricade. "What the h-" “Smoke Screen!” “Wha-? Oh, God… erg… cough~! Cough!” A blast of smog spread across the bottom floor, obscuring all sight. It was just as well that Marong had stripped out the smoke alarms, else the whole building would be screaming for evacuation. “Who are you?!” Marong’s voice came through the smoke. “Reveal yourself, bastard!” “It's me, Gwen! MIA! Where are- Cough! YOUR BROTHER has gone INSANE.” A door banged open on the second level. Mayuree ran out in hastily donned pyjamas. Another door opened, Lei emerged from the pantry, coughing and gagging. “Marong! What in the Goddess’ name are you doing?” In the smokey murk, Gwen could make out Puff, the Smoke Mephit fading in and out of vision. Whatever the hell Marong thought he's doing, he was definitely on the defensive. “MIA!” Marong warned his sister. “Stay back! The Tyrant has taken your friend’s form! I can smell her STINK from here!” Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. _My stink_?! _Rude_! She changed before teleporting over! Gwen’s anger barometer shot from white to red, especially exacerbated by Lei's distress. She’s had it about up to her neck with this impudent asshole. First, he reeks the place like a coal chimney, and now he's accusing her of being a stinking tyrant while choking her favourite cook! If anything, Gwen suspected, Marong may have been vaping the wrong pipe. “Ariel!” Gwen called on her Familiar. A little Dragon-fear should inject some senses back into Marong's head. "EEE!" Ariel cleaved through the smoke, blasting apart the obscuring miasma. "KAAA!" Puff the Mephit shat acrid smoke all over the floor. “Gwen, NO!” Mayuree came between them, leaping from the interior balcony, landing via Feather Fall. “Mia! Get out of the way!” the both of them shouted. “STOP IT!” Mayuree screeched, the pitch of her voice vibrating the windows. "Both of you! Dismiss your Familiars! NOW! Else I am going to be mad!" The smoke faded, albeit grudgingly. “What are you?” Marong stood to one side, clothed in smoke and ash, no more than a silhouette of a man. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Gwen snapped, her expression thunderbolt and lightning and very, very frightening. Mayuree stood in the middle; a poor girl caught between the two. “Why do you have the stench of a Dragon-kin?” Marong demanded of Gwen. Gwen had half a mind to blast Marong with a bolt of Barbanginy. “None of your business.” Gwen eased her combative stance. “I am here to see Mayuree.” “Not anymore, you're not.” “Marong!” Much to her brother’s ire, Mayuree sauntered toward Gwen, then reached over and hugged Gwen about the waist. “There! See? She’s perfectly safe.” Gwen could see a vein throbbing on either side of Marong's temple. His accusatory eyes charged her with subverting his obedient sister with her unruly western upbringing. It took a while longer for Puff to collate the smoke and the building's ventilation to clear the air. “… and that’s why I’ve got Dragon Essence,” Gwen finished her explanation in as few words as possible. According to her censored narrative, she and her uncle battled Draconic beings in Huangshan, after which ‘redacted’ happened, and now she's in possession of a tidbit of Draconic-essence. “That makes no sense.” Marong blustered. "You acquired Draconic-Essence after eating too much?" “And took down a Thunder Wyvern to boot,” Gwen refuted Marong’s freedom of information request. “If you weren't Mia's brother, I wouldn't even bother explaining, much less tell you a cool story." "Not only that, Gwen’s been advising us on a new tier-based membership program for the Auction House,” Mayuree interjected proudly. “The elders are very impressed.” Marong appeared lost for words. "But enough about me," Gwen steered the conversation away from herself. "How's the old country?” "You told her about Myăma?" Marong growled at his half-sister. "Master Maymaruya did." “That old coot.” The Smoke Mage knitted his brows. "Well, how's progress recovering your city?" Gwen asked. "If you must know, I promised Mia that if I ever become a Tower Master, I'd teleport it over and lend you a hand." Marong stole a glance at Mayuree, who nodded imperceptibly. The girl's arrogance knew no bounds! “Yangon... is not looking good.” Marong exhaled, ejecting two jet streams of Marlborough Red. Within the smoke, Gwen could spot an anorexic humanoid figure with wings flitting about, keeping the smoke contained. “We’ve got rebels stirring up trouble in the south and east of the country. Construction projects disrupted, shipments delayed, assassinations in broad daylight, the whole Bristle-back Hog.” “Jeez Louise.” Gwen touched a finger to her collarbone. “Sounds like you've got a civil war brewing down there.” “War, yes. Civil War, no - nothing of the sort,” Marong refuted Gwen’s conjecture. “We’re the only functioning government. Our enemies are brazen, but not organised. They have no goal beyond personal profit. They're bandits, brigands and thieves. Mayuree told you our war-torn land lacks the presence of a Tower, yes?” “Yeah…” “No Tower,” Marong growled. “Means no CCs, no Rule of Law. Rogue Mages do as they please. They rape and pillage their own kind and harass Demi-human settlements. Outside of Yangon, where we have our intern government, it’s the Wildlands." “That's terrible!” Gwen grimaced. During her University days, she had visited neighbouring Cambodia. There, she saw the atrocities of the Killing Fields first hand, and through swarms of beggar children, experienced the ramifications of war for the young and the destitute. “We’re doing our best, but Yangon is a crystal sink without a bottom,” Marong lamented. "If it wasn't for the jade, I say we burn the damn thing and leave it to the Tyrant." "Don't let grandmother hear you say that," Mayuree warned her brother. Marong sullenly glanced about the apartment, making sure an angry old Matriarch wouldn't leap from the shadows. That the gruff Smoke Mage could be so skittish relieved the horror she felt for his unfortunate country. “I need a drink.” Marong exhaled. "Lei!" ‘Click.’ Lei emerged from her pantry, having changed to a new maid outfit. “Good evening, Miss Song - Master Marong, what would you like?” The fact that a lady as sweet as Lei lived in the fucking pantry brought a stiffness to Gwen’s jaws every time. It was like some sick, servile magic, one that never lost its horrid charm. What further boggled Gwen’s mind was that when she asked Lei about potential emancipation, the maid grew terrified, insisting that she genuinely possessed the best job in the world. “Whiskey on stone, leave the bottle - how about you?” Marong indicated to Gwen. “Sparkling water, thanks, Lei.” “I want fresh coconut juice,” Mayuree joined in. “Thanks." Lei went about retrieving their drinks, additionally putting together a lovely little fruit platter. The trio sipped their drinks as Gwen snacked on logans and lychees. “I've got a question." Gwen raised her hand. “How does the Tyrant feature into all of this? Does it fund the brigands or something?” Marong swished the expensive-looking whiskey in his mouth before swallowing. “Not directly. It keeps us penned up in Yangon,” the Smoke Mage explained. “As a result of its presence, we can’t project force outside of the capital and put an end to the raids on our mines in Tawmao and Khansee. Our convoys as well, are a constant target. After robbing us, the scoundrels portion a part of their loot for the Tyrant, who takes great delight in our suffering.” Listening to Marong's frustration, she wondered if there was meaningful advice she could give. Her old world was no stranger to insurrection. As with Afghanistan, with Iraq, with DR Congo, it was impossible for a country to heal without at least a decade of centralised power. In this world where monsters lurked, peaceful reconstruction was doubly painful when there was a dragon to stab one in the back. Killing the Dragon was only the beginning. First would come a great Purge of the land. Then the rebuilding. Then the inevitable corruption. Then a gradual balance of power. If a country could survive that, and if it could ward off foreign interference, then it could finally thrive. Across the coffee table, Mayuree’s brother extinguished a cigarette against his palm, then stowed the stub in his ring. “I am going to sleep. Got an early meeting tomorrow." "G'nite Marong." Gwen waved him off. She waited until the Smoke Mage was out of sight and earshot before excitedly waggling her brows at Mayuree. “I’ve got another shipment of Cores!” “M-more Draconic-Cores?!” Mayuree hesitated. “You're insane! The Yinglong has only so many children! It's going to skin you alive at this rate.” Thankfully, Gwen materialised a Water Monkey’s Core. “What do you think about this?” "Not Draconic, thank the Goddess." Mayuree took the Core from Gwen’s fingers. "Identify!" Her pupils glowed with a pale cast of Divination, scanning the element-stone with her diagnostic magic. “A little cloudy.” Mayuree chewed her lips. “Well-preserved, negligible fracturing... hmm, impurities present throughout the inner stratum. How many do you have?” “Like this? About twenty odd. And forty other lesser specimens.” “The House of M can offer about a hundred HDMs for the larger ones, assuming a 20% margin for us. They’ll make decent trinkets like Ring of Water Breathing and Water Walking, Everflowing Decanters as well as low-tier Affinity Boosters. As for the others, we can bundle them into bulk-sales.” “Sounds good to me.” Gwen let loose a small pile of the mishappened Cores on the coffee table, which Mayuree promptly collected. Raw Creature Cores came in all shapes and sizes, unlike the polished products one saw at auctions. “To confirm, 65 ungraded Cores, Water-affinity, correct?” “Yep. Then there’s also this.” Gwen materialised the necklace they had looted from the Water Priest. “Any idea if it’s worth anything?” “Woa - lavish!” Mayuree hefted the heavy chain of some seven Water Ghost-orbs. “Who made this?” “A Water Ghost,” Gwen briefly explained the Priest they had encountered. “A Demi-human?” “Is that bad?” Gwen queried out of curiosity. "Are they getting too smart for their own good?" Mayuree scanned the heavy ornament with her Divination-vision. “I’ll have to take it to Master Maymaruya,” the Diviner confessed. “It looks like an affinity-booster to me, though I’ve never seen them daisy-chained like this before.” “Let’s hope it’s worth something.” Gwen toyed with the orbs, running her fingers over the smooth, misshapen spheres. “You’ll be surprised how desperate Kusu, Lulan and Richard are for crystals.” “Your latest haul should keep them going for a while.” Mayuree crunched some numbers in her head. “I’d say you’re looking at 3000 HDMs. That’s about the annual upkeep of an upper tier Tower Magus.” Split five ways between Richard, the siblings, Petra and Percy, Gwen made a quick calculation in her head. It would be more than enough to cover the Spring semester’s expenses. “Could I get that as an advance? You can charge me the difference.” “Sure, I've got the currency cards in the safe. Once sales are complete, you can review your accounts and make up the difference.” “Thanks, Mia,” Gwen relaxed. “How's interest on our Dragonic Cores?" "A little intense, but that's not a bad thing. We're thinking of saving the bulk for the Chinese New Year rush at the end of January. After our own plans, we're saving the rest for an invite-only event." "Sounds good. Say, do you know a Dai Fung?” “The Nantong princeling?” Mayuree raised a curious brow, recalling the very first time Gwen had stepped into the House of M. “He's a customer. Why? Is he bothering you?” “Not exactly.” Gwen ruminated on how to best present her case without infringing on her commitment to corporate confidentiality. “Over the weekend, I’ve had an opportunity to speak to the Patriarch Shen Fung, a Vice-Chair by the name of Tu Guangshao, and a Jiantiao Magister called Chen Quin. We’re in business now, with me in the position of their financial advisor for the running of Nantong Port.” Mayuree's expression was one of incomprehension. “What do you mean? Like what you’re doing for us?” “Not exactly,” Gwen explained. “I can’t give you the details, but let’s say I’ll have significant sway in the future success of Tonglv Canal. To that end, I was wondering if your Clan could benefit from having a safe and profitable port of entry on the east coast.” Mayuree made an ‘O’ with her lips. “That’s incredible!” “Well,” Gwen articulated haughtily. “It is impressive, I’ll confess to that.” “We usually route things through the Guangzhou Frontier,” Mayuree confessed. “Shanghai’s tariffs and inspection is way too stringent. Too many people with too many fingers in the rice pot.” “There’s no rush. The port won’t be accessible until Tonglv is operational,” Gwen explained. “Just thought I’d let you in on some of that insider-information. I would highly advise changing routes to save on costs as soon as possible, and stock up on construction materials, utility Golems, raw materials. When the first stage expansion kicks off, there's going to be a market spike for sure." “Thanks, Gwen.” Mayuree grinned, revealing pearly white teeth. “I'll pass on your advice to the House. Another thing, Master Maymaruya’s been asking for you as well. He’s unsure about your 'vertical integration' of merchant-provider services.” “Too easy.” Gwen battered a hand at her companion. “Get him to Message me directly, or if he can wait, I should have a consultation office up and running in the next week or so. I've got a few lackeys running the show for me here in Shanghai. Guess who’s one of them? The one and only Dai Fung.” “You’re going to have an office of your own?” Mayuree’s mouth again formed an ‘O’ of astonishment. “And the princeling of Nantong is building it for you?” “I’ll be splitting my time between there and my training,” Gwen replied smugly. “I figured it’s time I took an interest beyond the IIUC. It’ll only be between now and February anyway. After that, the semester will start and my time will be constrained further.” "You're amazing... I need my sleep..." Mayuree's semester schedule consisted mostly of sleep, sleeping through classes, and dozing through House meetings. Gwen chuckled at the baulking Diviner. Business, study and self-improvement - she had managed tighter schedules. With her Almuldj’s Essence and her Lightning-induced insomnia, she might even have a few hours to spare.

Gwen never thought there'd be a day she'd yearn for MS Office. For the fourth time, she threw the data slate onto the bed, then picked it back up with a sigh. The bloody things were useful only in the sense that they were better than paper. Other than that, they possessed no inter-connectivity outside of some arcane data-storage system used by the Tower, managed by lodging the slate with an Administrative official. Gwen paid for an account, though the fact that her data-bank was inaccessible from home and served only as a redundancy irked her to no end. Was it possible to introduce complex word-processing to this world? She would even accept the possibility of an annoying Familiar called Clippy. But Gwen knew she was daydreaming. For all its supposed wonder, the data-slate was a handheld projector. Beneath the papyrus 'screen', a crystal core recorded whatever was transcribed by the user. Other than that, the slate responded only to 'record' 'show' and 'next-page' commands. After tinkering with the device for some time, she realised there were no wires, no electronics, nothing to manipulate but inscribed scripts stowed within the Core. Dislodging the Core from its resin inlay ensured it died a permanent death, losing all of its intellectual cargo. Not that it mattered. Without a decade of study, she couldn’t discern the algorithms used in the crystal. Gwen pinched her brows. With a word, she could summon a lamprey from the netherworld beyond space and time to consume her enemies. In Nantong, Japanese-made automata lifted ten-ton slabs. Via an ISTC, she could Teleport from Shanghai to Australia in a matter of minutes. But copy-pasting a fucking 7-day schedule was beyond her ken. The next day, Gwen met up with the others and gave them their advance. Kusu and Lulan thanked her profusely, rushing away to fatten their savings account. Percy conveniently came to ‘hang out’ with his beloved sister, though Gwen knew her brother was keen to get his hands on some ‘spending money’ to impress his mates at his elite high school. When Percy exhibited a sudden urge to 'train at home', she instructed him to buy something nice for Guo and their babulya with his first ‘paycheck’. “If you spend it all on yourself, I am never taking you out again,” Gwen warned him, wagging an authoritative finger. Percy nodded obediently before bolting off, faster than a Bottlebrush Bilby. “Little rascal.” Gwen snorted, dropping a stack of currency cards in Richard's palm. “Here ya go, Dick, enjoy.” Richard stowed his cut. “I am thinking of buying a house,” her cousin declared. “You’ve made that much?” Gwen raised both brows in surprise. “I’ve got a few thousand that I’ve saved up from Quests and bounties. I’ve got the share you gave me from District 109, and I’ve received our bounty just now,” Richard recounted his finances. “I can buy something an hour away from the CBD, no problems.” “Are you moving out?” Richard shook his head. “Our rent is absurdly cheap; you know that, right?” Subsidised by Mayuree, Gwen affirmed ashamedly. She hoped that whatever benefit the House of M would gain from her ideas would make up for the Eland Core, the offset rent, and the copious amounts of free dinners she was mooching off the Diviner. “Thinking of renting out your new purchase?” “Nah.” Richard appeared unmoved by her suggestion. “I am saving it for my folks.” A torrent of advice hammered at Gwen’s throat; buying property and letting it idle was amongst the direst of fiscal blunders. “That’s wonderful,” she tested the waters. “But, wouldn't it be more reasonable to buy, then lease?” “What, like Kwan?” Richard scoffed disapprovingly. It was rare to see Richard displeased, though any conversation regarding Richard's father and their family's money was bound to get the man scowling. To Gwen's knowledge, her crystal-obsessed uncle had built a small fortune on real estate, buying up ramshackle houses, repairing them, then selling them for profit. From Richard's grievances, Gwen learned that Kwan utilised an unscrupulous model, developing housing for low-rent Mages by demolishing areas close to the city inhabited by NoMs. His business partners happened to be councilmen, inspectors and certifiers, people he invariably bribed. The very same people he'd offer Gwen up as a bargaining chip. Of course, karma came in like a Leviathan. “Well, not exactly like Uncle Kwan.” Gwen proceeded prudently. She had once queried Richard why he was so keen on immigrating his parents when he had so little regard for his father. His response was one that struck close to her heart. “Whatever my opinions of Kwan may be,” Richard cooly intoned. “They gave birth to me, raised me, put me in Prince’s, gave me the best education Sydney offered - and I am thankful for it. Realising their life-long dream of living comfortably in a tier 1 city is how I can pay them back." A man of principle! Gwen applauded. Whatever Richard's faults, his capacity to carrying out his goals with single-minded devotion was in her opinion, a rare bird in any neck of the woods. “That may be, I could show you how to invest the money,” Gwen offered. "Something safe and steady, or you can piggyback on my ventures." “Yeah-Nah.” Richard shook his head. “Once my parents settle in, I’ll be finally pushing ahead with my spellcraft. I’ve got a lot to catch up if I want to keep Shielding you.” “OH?” Gwen cooed. “You’re my knight in shining armour, are you?” “And you’re my crystal-purse," Richard laughed. "I hope you won't leave me destitute." Gwen broke into a self-depreciative chortle. “Well, when my cockatrices come home to roost,” she solemnly promised her cousin. “I want everyone on board. It'll be like a Co-Op, I'll make a 'Trust' for the people I trust.” “I'll invest my trust in your Gwen-Trust?” “God.” She cackled. “Really, Richard? You're too young to be a Dad.” Rather than laughing with his cousin, Richard tapped her shoulder with a fist-bump. “Thanks, Cous.” “Hey!” she returned the favour by thumping his chest with the flat of her palm. “Stick with me, Dick, and you’ll never know want for crystals!” Gwen found Petra in her lab atop the Heilong Building. “Thanks.” Petra waved a hand over the currency cards. “That’ll tide me over for a while.” “Are you often short on crystals?” Gwen enquired. “Is your stipend from the university insufficient?” “A little, just personal projects and the like,” Petra shrugged. “Nothing urgent.” “Any Magi-tech?” “Not my field.” Petra declined her enquiry. “Magi-tech is a hyper-specialised School of Enchantment, integrating concomitant energies from other Schools. We have an entry-level course on it in Fudan, but to truly learn it, you have to go on exchange to Japan, the United States, or Europe, though European Magi-tech stems from the Demi-humans.” “Arrgh!” Gwen flexed her wrist, reeling from report-writing carpal tunnel. “Woe is me!” “Maybe ask a Diviner-technician?” Petra pointed to the soaring spires of Fudan’s Guanghua Towers. “You can ask around or if you’re desperate, why not put some of your CCs to good use. That’s what they’re for, you know.” HOLY SHIT! Gwen blinked. Petra’s right! Her prettier-than-thou cousin was absolutely right! Gwen had forgotten entirely about the whole point of CCs! All she had to do was put out a request, attach a CC and HDM reward, and wait for results at the door! Eureka! “Thanks, Pats!” She gave Petra a quick hug. “Laters!” “So, what do you think?” Dai patrolled the breadth and depth of the hollowed out suite. He had found her a place in less than forty-eight hours. The suite overlooking the corner of Handan and Gouding road was in an older building with a sandstone facade, once a colonial townhouse. Forty-eight hours ago, it had belonged to a researcher. Right now, it awaited its new tenant. “Perfect,” the girl appraised him with inspiriting approval. “Well done, Dai.” “Don’t patronise me.” Dai lifted his chin, wary of Gwen’s encouragement. “Who do you think I am; this is the least I can do.” “Should I ask what happened to the previous tenant?” Gwen tilted her head, allowing her hair to cascade. “He left.” Dai shook his shoulders. What did it matter? “I was told he had a family emergency.” “Of course he did.” Gwen put on an apprehensive expression of disapproval that made Dai scowl. “Look, it’ll do. It’s close, it’s roomy, and it’s quiet. That ticks all my boxes. Who do I see to decorate the place?” “You’re renovating yourself?” “Of course, it’s my office. I'd hate to work in someone else's workspace. I’ll need a secretary as well, someone who takes care of visitors and paperwork while I am away. Know any good Personal Assistants?” Dai tapped his chin. "You mean like a secretary? Sure.” "Good knowledge of accounting is essential," the girl was quick to complicate matters as usual. "Don't get me a pretty vase or some arrogant lout looking to make a quick buck. I need people to work, not to give me lip." Dai furrowed his brows. His counterpart rolled her eyes, ignored his irritation, then paced back and forth, measuring the space with her stride, envisioning where she would place her desk, where her assistants would sit. Dai studied her unassuming yoga pants with renewed respect. “We’ll need to add a bathroom. I’ll need to shower and change every other time I am here." “I can ask them to send a team from Nantong. Might take a week though,” he replied uncertainly. "Don't worry about it then." The girl shrugged. “I’ll ask the Wangs." A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Dai's expression replied 'oh yeah'. He had neglected Gwen's relation to Wang Enterprises. Of the siblings, Dai thought about Mina now and then, though never as Gwen's cousin. As for Tao, the idiot never entered the orbit of his thoughts. Still, if she could have gotten one of the largest developers in Shanghai to find her a commercial property, why in Mao's name was she getting him to run around town looking for spaces? Didn't she know how much of a hassle it was to get the City Guards to threaten the previous tenant? In the end, he had to ask the District Secretary to put in his two cents before the stubborn idiot fled. Was all of this a part of her game? Was she perhaps, the hunter and he was the prey? "Say..." Gwen continued. She had this habit of glancing down before looking up, Dai noticed. It was highly distracting because the girl made bedroom eyes everytime she spoke about business or crystals. "... Dai, do you still talk to Mina?” Dai flushed, recalling the first time they'd met. For some reason, simultaneously smitten and a little drunk, he'd been overwhelmed by a sadistic desire. “Not since last time.” “Why did you guys break up anyhow?” the girl persisted, her face full of curiosity. “If you don’t mind my prying of course. You don’t have to answer.” “Our parents don’t see eye-to-eye,” Dai replied candidly. “The Wang heir is a squib, and I would be a threat to his fortune.” “Hey!” Gwen's tone was suddenly sharp and uninviting. “Don’t say that about Peaches. He’s a perfectly fine young man.” “He’s a sha-bi.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Dai felt better. He had finally said something which triggered her. “Can you imagine that ‘thug’ running the Wang empire? Give the walking failure a few years, and Mina’s fortune might be all that’s left, give or take a decade.” Dai was right of course, but the girl appeared reluctant to concede. She didn't think she could reverse the Wang's downward spiral, did she? The little minx had enough on her plate as it was. "Hmmph!" Gwen glared at him, a judgmental hand placed over a hip, drawing Dai’s eyes over her slim curves. For some reason, Dai felt strangely titillated by the girl's displeasure. Nervously, he licked his cracked lips. "So... why did you and Mina break up?" Ah, a diversion! Dai patted himself on the shoulder for winning this round. Who'd thought all it took to stump the girl was a fruit. “We weren’t dating in the conventional sense.” Dai allowed the girl her pivot. “Mina is one of the most desirable bachelorettes, and I am, of course, No.1 bachelor in Shanghai’s social circles. We met at a party, tongues got wagging, and we’d thought we give it a try.” “That’s so sad.” Gwen shook her head. “You’re not even attracted to her?” Dai grinned at Gwen. “No, though I am attracted to you.” "Oh?" Gwen paused to regard him. Dai blinked. Was this a break in the levy? With her hair tied into a thick ponytail, there was a sense of youthful vitality about the girl, making her infinitely alluring. Likewise, Gwen's lightly made-up face cast her in a different light to the two times he had seen her at parties, all dolled up. Gwen placed a hand across the arch of her hip. "What about me do you find attractive?" She cocked her head, her vivid irises sparkling like opals. "Everything. You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen," Dai confessed shamelessly, no, proudly! Gwen ran a finger along her bosom until her digit pointed at her head. "Shallow! I take it you have no interest in what's in here? Is that how you're going to answer your father's expectations? I'd thought you a man with depth, but hey, even I could be wrong." She's pretty even when she's upset! Dai marvelled, swallowing nervously. He adjusted his trousers unconsciously. "No, no, no!" the young man interjected, realising his faux pas. "I love your keen intelligence. I am most definitely attracted to what's in that head of yours. So many ideas! With my wealth and your head, think what we can achieve!" "Bullshit!" the girl scoffed, giving him a critical glare. A commanding presence radiated from her body. "If what you said was true the first time, at least I could accept it as a compliment. But to change your tune so callously? I am disappointed, Dai." "..." Dai stared at Gwen open-mouthed. At the very least, he had expected himself to call her a manipulative biaozi! Instead, listening to her spitting insults and being subjected to her deriding glare, Dai felt a strange, fearful thrill. They said that love was better than hate, and hate was better than apathy. Doesn't that mean he's halfway there?! Mao! She sure looked pretty in her peevishness! “Let's talk it over dinner.” Dai pointed at the next street over. “I heard there’s a family restaurant there that does authentic Beggar’s Chicken.” At the mention of supper, the girl relented. She had been training, and Dai was aware of her increased metabolism. His cousin, Lu Fung, the Master of the Lightning Hawk Wanli, also snacked incessantly. “Fine.” The girl regarded him suspiciously. “You're shouting.” “Woman, are you human?!” Dai shouted. Her dinner companion sat open-mouthed as Gwen polished off the chicken single-handedly. “What, order one yourself if you want.” Gwen sucked on her fingers. “The stuffing inside is to die for.” As usual, the shop's patrons had gathered to watch Gwen eat, though this time, they were treated to a different spectacle. “Is that Dai Fung?” someone whispered in the corner. “It is!” another voice answered. “To think the son of the Commissioner would be together with the Worm Handler!” “Mao, I am so jealous.” A third woman bit into her chicken, tasting only envy. “I know, right!” another female voice joined in. “Mr Fung is Shanghai's No.1 Bachelor! What a waste, like a jade flower, shoved into worm dung!” Gwen watched as Dai turned to her with a shit-eating grin split from ear to ear, wiggling his brows at her. “Go and pay.” She wiped her mouth annoyedly with a paper napkin. “You waiting for dessert or something? Supper's over, go home!” “So, what kind of worms are you apt at handling?” Gwen's deathly glare was enough to synergise an audible ‘Shaa!’ inside Dai’s head. "Good night!" As she stepped out the door, she stole a glance at Dai. Just then, she had combined both a mote of her Void mana and her Almudj's Essence, though, from the looks of it, Dai seemed to have grown tolerant to her use of Dragon-fear. Perhaps she should up the dosage? Shit, Gwen thought to herself. Did she push him too far? She better not have accidentally awakened something in the prick. “Within the week would be good,” Gwen spoke amiably into the Message spell. “I’ll be there first thing. I'll bring prints and sketches for your Foreman.” Her correspondent was none other than Patriarch Wang himself. “Tao will meet you there. I've instructed him to oversee the project personally.” Patriarch Wang’s voice came across almost like a bark. Gwen could envision Tao cowering in the corner, mumbling incoherently, attired in Adidas trackies. “That would be fabulous!” Gwen thanked the Patriarch. “I want to consult Tao on the School of Illusion as well. I intended to pick up a few basic spells but can’t seem to get the nuance of it.” “You hear that, Tao? Listen to how humble Gwen is, even though she can thrash you with a little finger! And she's four years your junior!” The Patriarch must have left the Message on a public setting, Gwen realised. Poor Tao. From the sounds of it, he was already on the receiving end of a lecture when Gwen called through. “Uncle, please be gentle on Tao, his talent as a musician is nothing to scoff at,” Gwen pleaded. “He’ll do a great job, I am sure.” “You better not screw this up, else no more of your idiotic American fad!" "Not true! Mah music is culture, with a K~, Daw-d-Dad!" "You little shit! How many times have I told you..." The Patriarch began his lecture anew. Gwen whispered a prayer for Tao. “Thanks so much, Mr Wang,” Gwen shouted into the Message, then closed the link. She invoked the glyph for Dai. “Dai? Yeah, it’s me. I found someone…” The next day, Gwen awoke after four hours of sleep. She dressed in her sporting garb, made herself a triple-decked SPAM-cheese sandwich, then caffeinated herself with Almudj’s Essence. Outside, winter was beginning to invade the November autumn, dropping the morning temperature to single digits. At 6 AM, she left for a morning jog around the campus, followed by an invisible Ariel and a full-sized Caliban. There was no point hiding her worm, for Caliban had by now become a staple feature of Gouding Road. Occasionally, stall owners fed the Mongolian Death Worm dumplings and buns, marvelling as Caliban's tentacles snatched the food out of thin air. At first, Gwen was apprehensive, though she relented after consultation with Chen. The old soldier advised keeping a tight leash on her beast, but otherwise allowing it to socialise on its own. After a ten-kilometre campus circuit, Gwen stopped for a milk tea, then began her Spellcraft practice. Swiping into the room reserved for her by Dean Luo, she ran through her pre-planned routine, exercising each School of Magic she possessed before prioritising high-tier Evocation and Conjuration. At 10 AM, she found Tao and a crew of gruff workmen, unhappily awaiting her arrival. “Sorry!” Gwen apologised, bowing deeply. She had told Tao 10 AM, but the fear put into Tao by his father ensured that he had arrived just after 8 AM. Additionally, Gwen seldom paid attention to her Message device during training, meaning Tao and his crew had waited in the cold. Seeing the sight of a lovely girl bowing and apologising with such sincerity, however, was enough to turn the men's upset to discomfort. “Alright, alright.” The Foreman forgave her tardiness. “Let's see this office of yours; Master Wang said you got prints drafted up?” The group arrived at level 3, suite 3001, where Gwen had her suite. She produced a blueprint sketch of the renovation she had in mind, drew in chalk on the floor where and what she wanted the installations, and furthermore outlined every detail from vanities, tiles, to the placement of plants and other decorative accessories. "You got furniture?" As for decor, Gwen already had specific ones in mind, having seen the designs she desired when she had outfitted her and Petra’s apartment. “Ooo, this is not going to be cheap.” the Foreman scratched his head guiltily. "Just that feature wall's going to cost extra." “Money ain't a thang, thug!” Tao volunteered, conscious that his father had instructed him to do a good job. “We're loaded, bitch.” Bloody oath Peaches, this is why you’re going to lose your father’s fortune, Gwen grimaced, noting a similar expression on the Foreman's face. “Budget’s not a problem,” Gwen imparted. “Thanks, Peaches, I appreciate your kindness, but I won’t need your generosity on this one. The quote's fine, Foreman Du. I can pay you up front for the materials if you're not sure.” The Foreman rubbed his hands together. “You're the boss! Let’s get to work!” After making the necessary calls for the plasters, the carpenters, the floor installer, the civil-Enchanters, he informed Gwen that the outfitting would take just under one week. "Look, can you do something about that?" Tao had been instructed by the Patriarch Wang to stay on site and 'learn', though the Foreman made it clear to Gwen that his personal preference was for the princeling to be out of sight. After watching Tao 'at work', Gwen admitted the Foreman had a point. It wasn’t that Tao was a bad technical supervisor, it was that his informative criticism came in the form of ‘that’s the wrong shade, bitch,’ and ‘use the guides, motherfucker.’ Not surprisingly, the workers wanted to sock him in the gonads with a plaster trowel. Caught in the middle, Gwen promised to occupy as much of Tao’s time as possible, though the young man had to return to the site each evening to inspect the scope of work. Gwen patted Tao on the shoulder sympathetically. “Come on, buddy. There are some questions I wanted to ask you about Illusion. Do you think Mina is free for lunch? Haven’t seen her in a while.” “Minor Image!” Gwen watched her magically projected ‘cube’ float across the vaulted ceiling. After a light breakfast with Tao, the two arrived at Fudan’s campus, where Gwen logged herself and Tao as a guest into the training room. “Dawg, yo cruising on tier 2 already?!” He baulked at her progress. Gwen decided it was best not to inform Tao that beyond the Minor Image he just taught her; she knew a total of one Illusion Cantrip and three Tier 1 Illusion charms. Her principle enquiry was how to construct vector-based projections so she could create tables, lettering, numbers and charts for her future presentations. “Dawg, you gotta understand spells are dumb bitches,” Tao informed her in a jargonist manner. “You gotta make 'em work for ya, dig? Take this bad boy for example.” "Major Image!" Tao projected an image of his pal ‘Little-Dog’ for Gwen’s perusal. The semi-opaque holography gave Gwen flashbacks of a Gorillaz concert. “I ma doing it slowly for yo eyes ta see.” “Minor Image!” “Minor Image!” “Minor Image!” The first Image was an ambient background. The second Image was an impressive pictogram graffiti which Gwen's Ioun Stone couldn't read. The third was a florid script of ‘Little-Dog’ written in Chinese, embossed in 3-D, hovering above the visage of Tao’s friend. “How’s dat?” “Wow, that looks incredible.” Gwen walked around the Illusion, inspecting the optic visage. Was it a projection of the mind? She wondered, then realised Illusions couldn't be mass-hallucinations. It made more sense that these were mana-particles bending light in such a way that they constructed images, much like a laser-projected hologram. “How do you add sound?” “Mo' Illusion spells, dawg.” Tao incanted a quick ‘Magic Mouth’. “Yo! Yo! Yo! Little-Dog in the house!” The Illusory pup made a gangster sign. “Wait-a-second.” Gwen realised something. “You’re telling me you are simultaneously running five persistent-effects?” “For shows, I gotta run ten-ta-twelve,” Tao boasted. “The hard shit's when ya gotta pimp out sick rhymes at the same time.” “WHAT!” Gwen cocked her head, looking Toa up and down in the same manner that so many of her seniors had regarded Gwen. “What about spell fatigue?” “Yo get used to da headaches,” Tao explained. “Jus booze up beforehand and go with the flow.” Hold on to your hip-hoppity horses! Gwen stared at Tao as though seeing him for the first time. “Peaches, you’re telling me that during your shows that we’ve attended, you’re operating ten persistent spells, while rapping, while pissed as a koala on fermented gum-leaves?” “Don’t know about koalas.” Tao tried to imagine it. “That a kind of dog, dawg?” “It’s a deadly fauna from Australia,” Gwen explained. “They eat a lot of eucalypti, and the leaves ferment in their stomach after a while, so they’re constantly drunk. After that, they fall on you. Hence they're called Drop Bears.” “Mah spirit-animal!” Tao declared. Gwen took another gander at Tao. Could Peaches actually be an idiot-savant? “Can Little-Dog and Mack-Daddy do the same?” Gwen enquired, desiring to satiate her curiosity. “They can manage three or four. That’s why most MC’s run with a crew.” Tao nonchalantly answered. "Cuz of my old man, I was forced to play with mah self." The vision of Tao playing with himself made her throw up a little. Still, Tao’s strange obsession with the ‘arts’ was itself an immense pressure placed on him by his father. It was no different to the burden Helena had put on her to stay thin and attractive. “So,” Gwen continued. “If I wanted to create, say a song, using Magic Mouth or Auditory Hallucination, how would I go about it?” “Yo gotta layer it, like I said.” Tao stooped as he spoke, throwing a few gang signs here and there. "Check this out..." She listened to Tao's ‘track’ as he bobbed and weaved. Illusionary music, Gwen realised, was Electroacoustic-Synth achieved via magic! No wonder she couldn’t reproduce anything other than cat-like howling. Even for the most uncomplicated music, she had to separate each ‘track’ into different spells, loop her ‘samples’, then activate them together in sync before ‘mastering’ the product via a recording device. In essence, Illusionist-musicians were sound engineers and 'Samplers'! .” Holy Shit, Gwen’s respect for Tao entered a new stratum. Did Tao’s father know about this? But then again, Gwen realised despondently. It wasn’t as though an enterprise could be inherited via hip-hop. What Patriarch Wang wanted, Gwen supposed - wasn't ill-rhymes, but someone more akin to Dai: ambitious, charismatic, and motivated enough to strive for more wealth and power. She looked over at Tao, his head weaving back and forth, and felt a curious sympathy for her cousin's innocence. If her Path was the path of Violent Conflict, what then, was the Path of Peaches?

Two days after Gwen began refining her Minor Image with Tao, Mina joined the duo for supper. “Babulya misses you.” Gwen's cousin began with a relentless warning. More than once, their babulya had asked about Gwen. “Arrgh! You're right!” Gwen slapped herself. With so much going on at once, she had completely neglected their grandmother. "Should I call her now?" “Do it after - oh, thank you,” Mina implored, thanking the waiter for stowing her jacket. Mina was looking her usual adorable self in a pastel jacket, mini-skirt and thigh-high pantyhose, making Gwen doubly dubious of Dai's treatment of their cousin. “I am not going, by the way. Can’t stand gramps, the old man gives me hypertension.” “Count me out too, dawg,” Tao agreed. “Aww,” Gwen confirmed the sibling’s conviction not to visit Guo. “Alright, alright, I free you from your obligations.” The conversation then turned to Gwen’s new office, which the sibling's father, the Patriarch Wang, has taken great interest. “Uncle Wang is welcome to visit anytime,” Gwen informed the siblings. “In fact, in the future, I would love to work with him on a project or two.” “Dad’s pretty taken with you,” Mina sulked. “He talked about you two days straight. It's making dinner unbearable.” “The hoss won't shut it no matter what! No offence, Gwen,” Tao grumbled. “I reckon he wants us ta change places or sumfin.” “Ergh~. Sorry,” Gwen apologised. “To make it up to you two, let me shout dinner.” “Ho? If that's the case, I am going to order the Deep Sea Lobster.” Mina grinned at her cousin. “Help yourself, order two if you can finish it.” Gwen smirked back. When she realised Gwen was serious, Mina pouted, tasting bitter self-pity served with a dash of envy. “I can see somebody is doing well for themselves.” She studied her cousin critically. "Last time we met, you were struggling with rent, how come you're so rich now? Did you rob a bank?" “Ah~, you know how it is,” Gwen answered humbly. “You win some; you lose some. I manage a few Quests, ran a Dungeon or two, sold some loot...” Plus a dozen Draconic Cores, business partners, profitable adventures and risky ventures, Gwen silently appended. "What, took you a whole seven months?" Mina derided Gwen's humblebrag. Gwen grinned helplessly, what else could she say? Opportunities came knocking, and she took them by the proverbial balls. Tao turned to their patient waiter. “Listen up, Hoss! Abalone hot pot, Daliang school-prawns, Qinhai Sea-Urchins, and two Ginger and Shallot Deep Sea Lobsters.” “Peaches!” Mina snapped at her cousin. She had meant the lavish ingredient as a joke. “It’s fine. Make it three,” Gwen informed the waiter. The man who was doubly impressed by the Fu-er-dai high-rollers, although the dodgy young man in Adidas was deeply suspect. “Wildland wheat-noodle base." “That’s a lot of noodles,” Mina pointed out. “It's fine.” Gwen patted her tummy. “I’ve got a hankering for gluten.” Halfway through the lobsters, the topic turned to Dai. “So, what’s your side of the story?” “Dai’s an asshole,” Mina stated blankly, forking a white-jade morsel. “He’s a playa and yo got played!” Tao illustrated his point with a greasy finger. Mina warned Tao with a lobster leg, threatening to stab him in his noodle-hole. “Peaches is kidding; it’s not like we had sex or anything.” “WOA! Too much information.” Gwen crossed two spindly forelegs to make a tasty 'X'. “Why, you thinking of dating him?” “No way.” Gwen shook a juicy tail. “Just curious. Did you have feelings for him?” Mina sighed. “If we do get married, it’ll be for politics anyway,” Gwen's cousin explained. “The standard thing to do here in Shanghai is to get married, produce an heir, then do whatever you like. I can sleep around if I desire, as long as I don't have children out of wedlock. He can plough as many sows as he likes, so long as he doesn't bring one home. I've got married friends who haven't spoken to their husband for a year. I suppose, in a way, that's what passes for happy endings." A sow, huh? Gwen allowed the passive comment to slid. "Would you have married him?" "Daddy wouldn't have allowed it." Mina chuckled. "You know how he and mum are. I heard they held a marriage meeting with Shen Fung. I am guessing they didn't see eye to eye." Possibly, Gwen imagined that it was because Bao Wang wanted his daughter to be happy, while Shen Fung spent the entire meeting discussing guan-xi, assets and Mina’s dowry. “I envy you guys for having such a great Dad," Gwen lamented wistfully, stirring her noodles. “My dad wishes you were his child.” Mina laughed annoyedly. “Maybe you can substitute for Tao; then we can all be happier.” "Can Dad marry Gwen into our family?" Tao proposed suddenly, sucking on a lobster claw. The girls dry retched. Such was Gwen's revulsion that she dropped her crustacean, having lost all appetite. "God, you're an idiot," Mina spat. "You disgust me. Go and die, right now." "ADOPT!" Tao protested. All his talk of marriage had addled the lyrics in his head "I MEANT ADOPT!" After the dinner, Gwen made arrangements to visit her babulya on Saturday. When she asked about her father and Uncle Jun, Klavdiya informed Gwen that Jun had his hands full as the new envoy to the Dragon-Princess, while Hai has communicated that he was perfectly happy in Hangzhou. “I guess I won’t be seeing Hai until his baby’s born,” Klavdiya sounded lost as she updated her granddaughter. “Its okay, babulya," Gwen assured her. "I am sure he’s thinking of you. A grandchild is a joyous occasion! I am going to have another little brother or sister; you can't get happier than that!" Her babulya agreed - though Gwen could sense that her sentiments were ambivalent. “Thanks for taking care of Percy,” her babulya added before ending the Message. “Your grandfather had nothing but praise for you the last few days. Did you know Percy bought a pair of Soothing-Jade for us? Over a hundred HDMs! Your grandfather hasn’t stopped fiddling with it since yesterday!” “They grow up so fast.” Gwen chuckled. “See you Saturday, Babulya.” Friday afternoon, Gwen returned from training to her office to see Dai conversing with the Foreman. “I am very impressed with your work.” She overheard Dai praising the Wang's Foreman. “What say you come work for us in the Fung Group? I’ll pay you ten per cent over whatever you’re getting from the Wangs.” “I'll think about it.” The Foreman's rejection came in the form of diplomacy. "Thank you, Master Fung, for the offer." Gwen coughed audibly, then entered. “Gwen!” Dai turned to her, his darkened face brightening considerably. “You’ve exceeded my expectations!” The young man wasn't lying, for he indeed had nought but praise for the new decor. The once mundane commercial space was now an open office. From the entryway, a frosted glass wall with a receptionist’s desk hindered the view of the interior. Opposite the console, a drink dispenser flanked two fiddle-leaf figs in minimalist concrete pots, furthermore joined by four comfortable steel and leather cubic tub-chairs. Past the reception, a working area with three adjoining acrylic tables staffed by mesh chairs formed a workspace, beyond which was the director's table. Gwen’s desk, an overlarge waterfall table with an assortment of filers and pigeon holes hidden from view, stood in front of left-to-right, floor-to-ceiling glass panes overlooking the street below. “Who’d thought an office without partition or walls would look so clean and beautiful.” Dai touched a hand to one of the three pendant lights hanging from the ceiling. “Take this thing. I know its useless - but I like it! It somehow ties the front together.” The floor was ash-blonde wood, extending up the far left wall to create a feature section. “And that!” Dai stalked back and forth. “Incredible, how is it that the floor looks so good on the ceiling?” “I'd thought you were crazy,” the Foreman admitted. “Come, let me show you the bathroom.” If the office itself impressed Dai, then the bathroom blew the Fung heir away. Gwen had requested a two-tone Scandi-style bathroom, a standard and contemporary option for the 21st-century apartment. The tiles were transmuted to resemble white-ash wood, the cupboards panelled with cedar, and a large round mirror had lumen-globes installed to provide high visibility and soft light for applying makeup. To the right, an all-glass cage encircled a rain-shower, with the bathroom-throne discretely nestled in a spacious alcove just out of sight. “I am starting to think plating our executive bathroom in gold was needless,” Dai confessed. Gwen recalled the gaudy bathrooms she had seen in the Fung Group’s building. It was very 80s Colombian Narco-chic. “Yeah, not a fan of your golden thrones,” Gwen agreed. “All of this was your idea?” Dai kept touching the vanities. He was a man in hot pursuit of a certain quality of life, and Gwen’s simple modifications were drawing the ambitious heir down a rabbit hole. “You could say that.” Gwen nodded demurely, she was nearing her limit. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First thing's first.” "Yes?" "Get out of my bathroom..." Dai and the Foreman stood silently in the lobby. Thankfully, the Foreman had spared no expense on soundproofing. Gwen rejoined them a few minutes later. “When’s your counterpart from Vice-President Tu's office arriving?” “A week or two? We’re way ahead of schedule.” “How’s the recruitment coming along?” “Could be better,” Dai appeared a little guilty. “I’ve sent a request back home; they’re canvassing the Clan for people right now.” Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Gwen frowned - trying to dig up accountants and auditors from a family business's internal members? That's a recipe for disaster. “That's not going to fly, Dai. Look, why don't you leave it with me,” she informed her Guan-er-dai companion. “Did you read my organisational charter? Sort through the duties of each department and its members?" Dai regarded her guiltily. Here was a young man who had not done his homework. Gwen sighed. Dai's complexion burned; he couldn't recall the last time he'd felt this oppressed. "Can I leave now?" the Foreman asked. He did not want to be here if either of these scions started blowing up. "Yes, thank you." Gwen shook the man's hand. "Give my regards to Mr Wang, and send the bill to Mr Fung." The Foreman fled. "Now." Gwen turned to Dai, her eyes flashing. She directed him to her desk. "Sit down! We're not leaving until you know our charter down to the last dot point." Saturday. Gwen completed a follow-up session with Magister Wen. "We're no longer collecting your Druidic Essence," the Magister intoned. When Gwen enquired as to why they were no longer collecting her viridescent mana, Wen saltily informed her that the upper echelon had explicitly forbidden further research into that particular avenue of Gwen’s prowess. “Unanimous decision from both Towers,” Wen answered as she stowed no less than two cubes of Gwen’s Void matter. With Almudj’s help, she could now tap deeper into her vital stores without harming herself. By her count, a dozen Void Bolts and non-persistent spells should be relatively painless. “Your biometrics are superb, by the way. Resting heart-rate of just under fifty. You’re as healthy as an athlete.” Gwen thanked the Magister as she dressed behind the curtains. “Gwen, dear,” the silhouette of Magister Wen implored as Gwen shuffled into her dress. “Have you come to terms with Caliban’s abilities yet?” “Ma’am?” Whatever Wen’s intentions, Gwen grew instantly uncomfortable. Behind the veil, the scholar's enquiry continued. “You lack the School of Enchantment, do you not?” “…” Gwen maintained her silence; no good would come of answering Wen’s inquiry. “There's a prisoner on death row, a suspect cult leader, tier 5 Enchanter...” Gwen hurriedly buttoned up her blouse. “Gotta go!” She took off at a bolt, not even turning to see if Wen acknowledged her goodbye. “I’ve got a date with babulya!” “I wouldn’t worry too much about Master,” Petra joined her cousin as they made their way to the Song compound. Originally, the girls had planned to catch a cab, but Petra convinced Gwen she needed at least twenty minutes of brisk pre-banquet exercise. “She’s not too happy right now. Ever since Secretary-General Miao met you, there’s been sanctions on her research.” “How so?” Gwen effortlessly paced beside her briskly-walking cousin. Comparatively, Petra was already working up a sweat. “I suspect it’s got something to do with Ayxin.” Petra huffed, picking up the pace. “You know how jealously the Dragon-kin guard their secrets.” That makes perfect sense! Gwen realised. Ayxin was all thunder and lightning when Gwen started calling Almudj by name. If the Dragon-kin saw Almudj as something of a progenitor, there was no way they would let humanity harvest and research mana blessed with Almudj’s Essence. Though no doubt the CCP would desire to discretely conduct their research, extracting mana from her like juice from a grapefruit was too glaringly an insult. I should call Uncle and visit Ayxin, Gwen thought to herself. If only she weren't so damn busy. “Gwen! Welcome back!” Gwen couldn’t help but notice her grandfather's rigidity when Klavdiya gave Gwen a suffocating embrace. “I am back, Babulya,” Gwen kissed her grandmother on the cheeks. She then turned purposefully toward her grandfather. “Gwen” Guo declared stiffly. "Welcome back." Gwen kept her arms wide open, making a come-hither expression. “Guo,” her babulya pushed Gwen’s grandfather forward. With the unwillingness of a cat forced into unwanted affection, Guo resigned himself to be embraced by placing himself rigidly in between Gwen’s arms. As her arms enveloped the old man, Gwen realised Guo was all but bone wearing skin. The frailty of her grandfather came as such a surprise that she kissed the old man on the forehead. The CCP hound master flinched, touching a hand to his forehead in disbelief. Gwen's babulya broke into bell-like laughter beside them, soon joined by Petra and an uncomfortable Percy, who cringed the whole thing with begrudged patience. After Guo hurriedly wiped the evidence from his forehead, the family made for the main hall, where a banquet had been set up, reminding Gwen of the very first time she had arrived in Shanghai. Seven months on, how different things were! Gwen marvelled at the familiar table; it's nostalgic seating and the juxtaposing atmosphere of jubilant familial bliss. "Gwen," Guo intoned solemnly, his bulldog face full of concern. "Tell me truthfully - are the Fungs taking advantage of you?" Though Gwen had promised herself that Sunday would be a break day, she found herself returning to the training hall. After four hours of unyielding practice, she buckled on her Message Device. ‘Ding!’ “Gwen, it's James Ma. You said you wanted to speak to me? I am on campus now.” Gwen quickly dialled in her Professor’s glyph. “Sir? It’s Gwen. Are you available for a luncheon? I need to speak to you regarding a great opportunity for your NoM students. No Sir, I am serious. Great! How about Cafe Europa on Gouding, opposite the Furano candy shop? Lovely, I’ll see you there soon.” With only a few minutes to spare, Gwen stripped off in the privacy of the training hall, spritzed herself with a Prestidigitation, then slipped into an above the knee cotton skirt, naked-pantyhose and a grey skivvy. She also brought out her Mary Janes, figuring it had been some time since her old shoes saw action. A quarter of an hour later, she met her Professor at the coffee shop, putting to rest the speculation of a dozen young men and a few women as to whom the infamous ‘Death Worm Handler’ of Fudan could be meeting on a Sunday. “Not very discrete, are you?” James Ma set down his coat. “I wish they paid this much attention during my lecture.” Gwen chuckled. “Thank you for coming, Sir.” She briefly explained her dilemma, redacting critical elements of their methodology. “You’ve sold one of your economic theories to the Fungs?” Ma raised a bushy brow. “You’re not getting yourself into trouble, are you? It’s in a Clan’s nature to profit off the State, you know. A parasite can’t help but exercise its nature.” “That’s a little harsh, Sir,” Gwen retorted. “If they directly steal from the venture, it’s lose-lose. The CCP would excommunicate them. Where could they possibly spend that much money? Escape Shanghai for Singapore? The best thing for everyone is to play by the rules. That way, it’s Win-Win.” “Perhaps in a western country,” Ma refuted her good cheer. “Here, they’re far too used to escaping punishment.” “Which is why I need your help.” Gwen brought out a data slate. “Here’s something I wrote over the last few days.” Ma took the tablet and began to read. After the first abstract, he became glued to the tablet, devouring page after page, leaving his coffee to grow cold. Gwen patiently waited for her professor to finish her fifty-odd page report, consisting mostly of diagrams, organisational charts, and short-form notes taken from an old MBA Course on Corporate Governance which she’d since made good use of in her line of work. An unexpected boon of her draconic-memory was that she could pull old lessons from her head with relative clarity, assuming she had once crammed them into her brain. Moreover, re-revisiting her old course work for her new world seemed to invigorate an erudition she couldn’t attain as a younger woman. After half an hour, Ma put down the tablet. “This is… audacious.” “It’s a necessary evil, Sir.” Ma reread the title: ‘Independent Supervisory Roles and Regulations - Establishing an External Auditory Committee.’ “You’re going to make enemies, Gwen,” Ma warned her. Gwen fluttered her striking eyes at the professor, playing the coy and innocent student. “I was hoping _you_ would be the one to make those enemies, Sir.” “Me?” Ma snorted in ridicule. “Yessir, only you have the influence and the clout to start something like this. You’ve said it yourself. The reason our Spellcraft and Economy is incapable of pushing past competitors like Seoul, Tokyo and the Americans is due to corruption. In my opinion, the CCP would love to enact an independent financial body.” “But…” Ma’s fingers were white-knuckled. “You’re telling me to fill a department full of NoMs?!” “Not NoMs,” Gwen strongly stipulated her word choice. “Agents who are auditors, accountants, lawyers, whose actions and decisions must be supported by other departments like the MSS, Internal Service, or even the CCDI. Think of it, Sir. NoMs, freed from the fetters of magic, in real positions of power as arbitrators and supervisors!” “It's impossible! You’re asking for people to give up their lives, Gwen!” Ma tried to keep his voice down, but even so, they were drawing eyes from all over. “Let's speak elsewhere.” Gwen’s eyes glinted. She knew she had him now. “How about we talk in my office? It’s about fifty meters down the street.” “…” Ma slid the data slate across the table, then blinked. “Y-you have an office?” Professor Ma sat opposite Gwen, quite speechless at the decor. “This is your office?” “Just had it renovated, sorry about the paint smell.” Gwen’s heels clicked across the floor. “I brought you some tea.” Ma looked around Gwen’s resplendent workspace, so much more modern, comfortable, and ergonomic compared to his cluttered workspace at the university. The professor sipped his tea, savouring the scalding amber liquid. “You’re serious. You - a seventeen-year-old girl, is a part of the Tonglv Expansion Project's top management?” “I am.” Gwen nodded, crossing her legs for better comfort. “Alright. I suppose stranger things could be happening, like a department where NoMs audit a Mageocratic operation.” The Professor leaned back on the cantilever chair Gwen ordered from an upscale import emporium. None of the inventory belonged to hers, of course, the liberty given to her offices’ budget was the sincerity shown by her three partners. That she was using their wealth to project her merit was an apt metaphor for venture capitalism. "So, let me play the capitalist devil's advocate. What’s in it for me?” “Everything,” Gwen replied. “You’re a well-respected scholar, you’ve got pull within the CCP’s ranks, and you’ve got access to a well-trained, non-magical staff without affiliation to the Fungs, the Shanghai Economic Exchange, or Magister Chen from Jiangqiao University. You’re the only non-partisan person I know who has the skills and the respect to act as an independent supervisory our three partners will trust. Don’t forget; they’re a triumvirate, they always doubt each other as well.” She continued. “As to what’s in store for you, Sir, the venture fund can pay you very well. Most importantly, I am willing to pay your NoM students a rate higher than the standard normally paid to Mages in the same role. Rather than working under the moniker of a NoM labour force, I want to establish your group of people as specialists, agents, operators, problem solvers. This project is merely the beginning…” She opened her hands, then balled her fists. “As for you, Sir. Succeed in Nantong, and you can start a company - an independent accounting firm - or become the head of a new audit department. I've asked Patriarch Fung to enact internal audits, but we all know how trustworthy that is. This way, everyone has a guarantee. So long as our venture succeeds, Nantong will be a southern miracle. Those in Beijing would be salivating over our methodology, the chief merit of which lies under your austere supervision.” “What makes you think your doctrines are safe?” Professor Ma pointed out. “Tu or Chen could just sell you out.” “I wouldn't doubt it. But until then, there are crystals to be made. I asked Dai to find me accountants, administrators and auditors - but you know what he did? He asked home to send him some. Preposterous! I suspect they'll keep me in the loop two years at worst, a decade at best. I am not here for the long haul, Sir. I am not that deluded. I am only here for the IIUC and five more semesters of University. If I can graduate earlier and receive the title of a Magus, I would welcome it. Until then, these are opportunities to fortify my Path. You and I know how it is; always diversify one's investments!" Ma tilted his head to regard his student, whose grasp of economics was inexplicably leagues above his own. A part of him was screaming that all of this was folly and what lied beyond Gwen's honeyed words and clear skies was a maelstrom of greed, an economic calamity made inevitable by human gluttony. She had only revealed a thin veil of her proposal for the Tonglv Canal, and already the astronomical numbers she was throwing around were sure to drive the Mages wild with crystal-lust. And this proposal of hers - this partition of powers to keep her brain-child safe - it was a bloodbath in itself. When Ma and his cadre of auditors invariably unearth corruption, theft, larceny and nepotism, what would await the men and women who’d thought the Triumvirate dumb and deaf? How many would die to the men's rage? Even if Shen Fung played the merciful bureaucrat, the CCP possessed very little patience for those who sought to enrich themselves at the cost of the country’s progress. The Purge of 86’ was evidence of that. Ma had been an assistant professor then, just an ambitious young man. He saw first hand the massacres, the show trials, the hundreds of Mages chained like cattle through Beijing toward the Northern Front. Behind them were hundreds of thousands of NoMs: associates, servants, family members, loved ones and beneficiaries, likewise taken on the Long March, never to return to their homes. What would happen if someone were to tear away the festering scab on the country's corrupted wound? Could the next Purge have its origins here in this fancy office, issued forth from the plump-lips of a girl-child in a too-short skirt playing at economics, stoking her too-big brain, believing herself a niu-bi genius? But the girl was right. Shanghai was growing stagnant. The Communist Party’s original Manifesto of raising the NoMs from poverty had fallen to the wayside. As a squib, Ma dreamed of proving to the Party that NoMs were an indispensable part of the CCP and its future. If he could succeed, the party, and especially the wise and all-seeing Secretary-General Miao of CCDI, would acknowledge the existence of an organisation uncorrupted by the Clans, the Scholar-Bureaucrats, the Mage Houses and the power progenies of its Secretaries. Without Spellcraft to distract them, his fellow experts attained proficiency in accounting and bookkeeping far beyond the Mages. If the state would enact protection for their devoted labour and elevate their positions, it would be the first step of many to integrate NoMs into their socialist society in a meaningful manner, in appropriating a place of influence and indispensable utility. “Sir?” The girl's voice came across coated with honey. "Is that proposal to your liking?" James Ma raised his head to meet Gwen's eyes, taking in the extravagant visage of a girl whose eyes stopped at the mountain of crystals. “I’ll do it,” he intoned with the fatalism of one told to hold the line against an Undead Tide. “I just hope you're happy with the outcome.” Gwen exhaled, her smile full of relief. “Sir, it's all for the greater good!” The girl laughed, full of confidence. “We’re in the job-creation business! Not just for your NoM students, the Tonglv Canal will generate hundreds of thousands of jobs: sailors, harbour-men, machine operators, mechanics, service personnel, and a hundred thousands more to support those jobs: food vendors, motels, restaurants, garment makers…” Ma’s skin crawled with every title Gwen carelessly rattled from her mouth. The girl had no idea! She hadn’t the slightest inkling what prosperity would bring! Progress was all well and good, but where there were crystals, the darkness that grew in the hearts of men held their secret cabals! From the highest Magister of the law to the lowest Neophyte, Nantong would attract them like a bloated Leviathan carcass attracting carrion! “With your help, Sir,” Gwen smacked her lips. “We’re going to enable a real economic revolution in Nantong!” Ma said nothing as the girl continued to talk, rattling off her gospel of wealth like a priest at a sermon. “… one more thing.” Gwen smiled sweetly at her professor. “Yes?” Ma looked up, feeling numb. “Do you think…” Gwen cooed at him. “You could send me someone to be my P.A? I'll teach them everything they need to know, and I'll pay them twenty per cent above market rate!”

Gwen informed Dai about Professor Ma’s agreement to sit on an independent supervisory board, then left the Fung heir to schedule a meeting with the other members of their foursome. She then returned home to rest, finally able to relax now that a significant buffer was in place to spurn the jaw-clenching reflex of the Clans to defraud the state. Furthermore, Professor Ma promised to send her his best student to be interviewed. With her head resting against the soft pillow, she envisioned the web binding everything together. The Venture Fund would have its three Divisions and subdivisions; each presided over by paranoid men wary of each other’s excess, with Professor Ma’s external Audit Committee acting as a check on all three. So long as Nash’s Equilibrium held, the men should arguably do what benefited themselves individually, as well as enact best practice to maximise collective gain. Should a single individual shift the balance, what awaited them was cannibalisation. Within the scope of her proposal, everyone from the highest executive officer to the lowest plebeian had an active interest in the successful operation of Tonglv Canal. It was trickle-down economics at its finest. For how long could James Ma hold back the tide? If under internal and external supervision, mutual interest and low-risk capital-borrowing, the venture still left the womb stillborn; then this country was ill-suited for economics. In Gwen's opinion, she may as well park her future Tower in the middle of a well-grown patch of the Wildland crystals and command her minions to start harvesting. Dreaming of crystals, she closed her eyes and welcomed the well-earned bliss of restful sleep. The end of November brought a sudden chill that wiped the presence of autumn from the campus. The inundation of a mana-miasma over Shanghai exacerbated the change of seasons, extending the monsoonal summer and inviting an early winter as a compromised troposphere trapped cold-fronts passing over the city. On odd-numbered weekdays, Gwen’s self-imposed schedule began with breakfast at 6 AM, followed by a jog around campus. She had a second breakfast from 7.30 to 8 AM, followed by three hours in the training hall practising her magic. Provisionally, she would attend the office after lunch, get changed, then plough through paperwork from noon to 5. After that, it was back to training, returning home at 8 PM for her late supper with Richard, Petra, or alone. On her even-numbered days, she began with meditation in the early morning, followed by breakfast and training. She then allocated herself some free time to do as she pleased, such as wandering the city and networking with her contacts. In the afternoon, she returned to training, alternating between Schools of Magic. Evenings involved another block of free time, which for now she spent ruminating on particular problems and burying her head in reports, proposals and accounting. Saturdays and Sundays were free days, which Gwen split between other self-improvement activities such as research at Fudan’s campus library, getting her biometrics done with Magister Wen, training with Percy, or spending time on various activities with her companions. Throughout the day, she exercised Almudj's Essence whenever she felt tired - inviting the primordial energy to refresh her Astral and physical body. With repetition and practice, the clarity of mind and body offered by her meditation quickly took on a subconscious quality. Aided by Ayxin's scale, she could freely exercise the routine even mid-conversation. As an unexpected boon, draconic-constitution was great for indigestion. On Wednesday, Dai returned with Vice-Chairmen’s Tu’s protégé, a power-progeny like Dai with a round, friendly face and a plump body that reminded Gwen of a stout prosperity-buddha. Gwen arranged for the three of them to have dinner, where she asserted dominance by eating twice the amount of food as their new staffer, who went by the name of Ken Duan. “We start with training and project overview,” Gwen informed their starry-eyed intern. “I am still waiting on my P.A, after which I'll teach all of you together. Meanwhile, it's your job to study up on our operations. Dai has a copy of our manual and charter. There is a protocol for filing, answering calls, dealing with enquiries that you must learn as soon as possible.” “Yes, Ma’am!” Ken inclined his head respectfully. His instruction had been to treat Gwen as though she was one of the three - that and report back anything and everything of interest. Gwen likewise was under no illusion that this Ken character was anything but a pair of eyes for Vice-Chairman Tu, though she amused herself with the fact that just as Ken was watching her, he was far more interested in keeping tabs on the Fungs. Either way, she received another body to throw at the paperwork. Monday week, Gwen's P.A arrived. Professor Ma had personally called to give the young woman a commendation, which Gwen graciously accepted. “So you’re Miss Li.” Gwen crossed her legs and swung her chair so that she could take a good gander at the NoM Professor Ma had sent her. “Ru-Yee-Li?” “It's nice to meet you, Ma’am,” the girl replied with a tone of apprehension. “It’s Ruì, 'Rū' and 'Eè', Ma’am - my family originated from the Canton Frontier. I can speak English and Mandarin, Cantonese, of course, and I know a little bit of Japanese.” “How lovely!” Gwen tapped her Ioun Stone. “I'll get you one of these as well. I suspect we'll be seeing plenty of visitors speaking various languages and dialects.” “Yes, Ma'am.” The girl lowered her head demurely. Ruì's resume betrayed her mundane exterior. She was a third-year graduate with a degree in Commerce, averaging High Distinction. Ruì had served as the Financial Officer for Fudan’s Non-Magical Socialist Union, a sort of Young Communist's club, receiving an accolade from Professor Ma and commendations from a dozen others for her outstanding work. In second-year, she had exposed a third-year senior absconding funds from the Student Union. Though the young man threatened her, she nonetheless took the matter up with Professor Ma, resulting in the man's expulsion. "But that wasn't the end of it," Gwen noted, recalling that Petra had once mentioned the incident. "No, Ma'am," Ruì explained. The Evoker attempted to get back at Ruì. Of course, Professor Ma had anticipated such a clichèd reaction. After a fiasco on the lower campus and Ma's insistence on making an example, the Evoker and his accomplices enjoyed an expedited promotion to the Frontier. On paper, therefore, Ruì was the perfect candidate. Skills can be practised, knowledge can be learned, but that stubborn regard for ethics was an ingrained character. “Dai, Ken, come here for a second.” The two Mages joined her. Immediately, Ruì tensed. “Working together will be a test for yourselves and Ruì,” Gwen began. The Guan-er-dai duo gave each other strange looks. Having a seventeen year-old-girl giving them a spontaneous lecture was queer enough on its own, but more so when she was making her point using a NoM. “Ruì, I am not sure if you know Mr Fung-” “I do, Ma’am,” Ruì clarified, her complexion pale in the presence of three powerful progenies of Spellcraft. “Well then - this is Mr Fung, and this is Mr Duan. They’re your co-workers. They do not have authority over you. Only I do. One critical aspect of your work, should you accept the position, is that you will be dealing with Mages - not just ones with arcane might, but political heavy-weights.” “Yes, Ma’am.” “Let me clarify: Secretaries from the Districts. Owners of manufacturing facilities. Sons and daughters of influential people, Clanners…” Ruì was either nodding or quivering violently, or both. When Professor Ma called, she had expected a position in a NoM production facility or a District cabinet's office as a clerk. “Here’s the thing,” Gwen continued. “You need to remember that as long as you’re my secretary, you do not need to fear them. Be polite, follow protocol, and if a client bullies you, tell me - tell Ken, or tell Dai. They’ll back you up. Right, guys?” “Sure." Dai shrugged. “I’ll make sure she’s safe,” Ken agreed. Unlike Dai, Ken was a born yes-man. To emphasise the gravity of her demand, Gwen took a stroll around her three employees, punctuating her point with her clicking heels. “Let me make something very clear,” Gwen stated with absolute seriousness. "It is entirely in your interests to keep Ruì safe. She is your buffer against the endless tedium of paperwork. Only because Ruì is here you two will have the minimalist volume of accounts to sign off. If something should happen to her at work, then all responsibility falls on your shoulders. Dai, you have two siblings and a dozen cousins. Ken, I am sure Vice-Chair Tu has hundreds like you under his care. I have only one Ruì. Do you understand?" Gwen had seasoned her last statement with a smidgen of Dragon-fear. Dai flinched, his mind evoking visions of Caliban's gooey embrace. Ken meanwhile, froze to the spot, recalling an earlier moment when Gwen had shown off her divine Kirin. For the two young men, their boss's point had been made abundantly clear - her secretary was above them on the food chain. "I have the utmost faith in the two of you." Gwen placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "You can go now." The two men returned to their desks. “Now.” She turned her eyes to the shaking Ruì. “Let's get to know each other a bit better.” The duo’s ‘Boss’ first introduced herself, then related a humorous tale of her family upbringing in Frontier Australia. After a few moments of light humour, she migrated onto Ruì’s proficiency in business and accounting. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Dai and Ken took note of Gwen’s friendliness toward the NoM, each marvelling at the oppressive emotions gnawing at their chest. Jealousy over a NoM? It as a novel experience. “I-I’ll be loyal! Ma’am!” Ruì declared when Gwen asked her if she was willing to be a part of her team, looking as though she was on the verge of leaping from her seat to perform a kowtow. Guiltily, their boss dialled down Almudj's Essence. “No need to pledge your allegiance,” Gwen assured the young secretary that she had the utmost respect for the girl’s autonomy. “As long as you’re happy with your pay and do your job well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. If you become indispensable, that would make me happier than you know.” “Indispensable, Ma’am? What about you?” “Ah~, Ruì my dear.” Gwen flashed her P.A a confident smile. “The first lesson of any successful Enterprise is the balance between supervision and delegation…” Wednesday. Gwen met with Magus Maymaruya. After listening to the Magus' enquiry, Gwen offered her continued co-operation for a percentile of the proceeds, refusing payment unless the Centurion venture succeeds. The Magus readily agreed, then presented his enquiries. As Gwen presented common sense solutions to puzzling problems; the Enchanter increasingly entertained Mayuree's theory that the girl’s brain was constructed of a different matter, possibly currency. “… vertical integration.” Gwen pointed to a chart she had visualised through an elementary employment of Minor Image. “In essence, by generating a massive client roster, your service will lower costs due to upscaling of operations; likewise, diversifying customers lowers overall risk.” “But to reduce the top tier commission to 8%? Our losses would be considerable!” “It won’t, not when an economy of scale is applied to the lower tiers.” Gwen dismissed the first graph, then brought up two more charts sitting side by side, one an alarming red and the other a vivid green. “Look here, on the left; you’ve got the numbers from the old model-” Gwen ‘zoomed’ into the left-most chart. “Let’s take this day trade sample as our example - 11,432 net transactions, averaging a commission of 30 HDMs at 12% per.” She then switched to the vibrant green chart. “Under a new, stratified membership system, the baseline commission for a silver-card holder is 15%, gold-card 12%, Mithril-card 10% and Orichalcum-Centurion-card 8%.” She presented the numbers for Magus Maymaruya. Earlier, she had asked Ruì to crunch the figures, and her P.A had not disappointed. “As you can see, the _average,_ if we use the same number of transactions sorted into tiers based on the expenditure figures you provided, is… 33 HDMs. Unexpectedly higher, in fact.” “But to charge the silver customers a higher commission? Wouldn’t that dissuade them from joining?” “Not to worry. Silver-tier is open to all,” Gwen assured the Magus. “The purpose of a stratified system is to filter customers upwards. To upgrade from Silver to Gold, all they have to do is exchange 500 HDMs worth of inventory per month. From your interim report, the vast majority of the House of M’s clients are between the 500 and 2500 strata, meaning they will enjoy the usual commission plus perks.” “But…” The Magus appeared unconvinced. Gwen conjured another chart, reminding herself to thank Tao and to shout him a few more dinners to thank him for the tuition. In the future, when this specific use of Illusion became standard practice, they would probably award her with the title of the Progenitor of the PowerPoint School of Illusion. Her second chart was a table dividing the clients into their assigned strata. “Imagine, Magus, that you’re a Silver client. We’re charging you 15% commission, and you currently have 400 HDMs worth of goods to be auctioned, exchanged, or bartered. 15% commission on 400 HDMs is 60 HDMs, and you only receive a few basic service perks like short-term loans with a modest interest rate. Now, here's a clincher. 15% of 400 HDMs is 60 HDMs. However, at the Gold Tier, at 500 HDMs, the commission is 12%, meaning you pay a commission of... 60 HDMs. Same fees, higher trade volume! Therefore, a Silver-tier client will instinctively strive to reach Gold-tier." "I see." Maymaruya scratched his beard. "An attractive opportunity." "Good. Here’s where credit comes in. What if the client lacks the goods or funds to reach 500 HDMs? In that case, the House of M can act as a short-term lender to the silver-ranked client. What's more, you don’t even have to lend said client 100 HDMs. Through the integration of loan, trade, and client services, the House of M can take on the 60 HDM Commission owed by the client as debt, with an overdraft of 40 HDMs, all recorded on the client’s account. By borrowing, the client reaches Gold-ranked, giving them better commission and a reduced interest rate on overdrafts: this we call the Line-of-Credit.” “Our short-term losses…” “Will be offset by clients striving to reach the next tier as soon as possible to receive better perks. The debt we hold will be paid off by interest collected from short-term Lines-of-Credit. Don't forget, Magus, clients under this system can no longer leave our ecosystem without defaulting or paying off their debt. With ten, twenty, thirty-thousand clients bundled up, the cash flow can readily offset accounting and debt collection.” “... correct me if I am wrong. We’re still losing money on the Centurion clients, aren't we?” Gwen smirked, her eyes flashing amber and emerald. Beside her, the ever-observant Ruì trembled at her boss's voracious appetite for crystal. “Magus, that’s a feature! The Centurion clients are an advertising cost, an ultimate goal for others to strive. As for reaching that goal? Sorry, invites only: the Centurion tier is exclusive. The minimum annual spending to maintain the Centurion card is only 10,000 HDMs - why’s that? It’s because the card is not necessarily given to those who spend the most, but rather influencers to inspire others to spend - to give Good Will to the House of M! It’s also the reason why we keep the card Invites-Only. Expecting Centurion clients to turn a profit is impossible. It's mathematically infeasible without making the card uncompetitive. But no matter- Ruì, give me the numbers." Ruì passed over a sheet. Gwen visualised the data for the Magister as a pie-chart, the lion's share of which consisted of Silver and Gold members. "As it stands: 100,000 clients whose transactions average 500 HDMs from the Silver and Gold ranked members will give us ten-times the trade volume of 50 plus high-roller transactions averaging 10,000 HDMs each. Though we currently have a dearth of low-ranked members, they are also the easiest to recruit. Remember, Magus, in the end; the low-tier members are the real currency makers! Never underestimate an economy of scale!” Perusing the floating figures, Magus Maymaruya performed the calculations in his head. While the House of M did not yet possess a hundred thousand 'members', that was because customers came and went irregularly. If Gwen was right and clients could be persuaded to borrow crystals to pay their debt, remaining 'in house' to take advantage of perks and rates, then it was entirely possible that in a few years, their baseline clients could exceed hundreds of thousands. If so, even losing crystals to placate the Centurion-clients, the House of M stood to make a massive profit. Take the Draconic-Cores, for example, each auctioning for between 4,000 to 12,000 HDMs. How many could they sell a year? Twenty? How many Shield-Cores passed the hands of the House of M’s auctioneers? Less than ten per annum? Though each transaction reached new records for commission payments, they were far too few. The girl was right, the House of M's has been too focused on upper-tier clients. “One more thing.” Magus Maymaruya raised a hand. “If we’re paying out membership discounts to restaurants and hotels, how can we -” “Hold it right there.” Gwen stood from her table. Ruì held her breath, surprised that Gwen would interrupt a Magus as casually as one hawking beans at the market. “There's a fundamental misunderstanding here.” “Miss Song?” “Sir.” Gwen walked around the table and leaned her buttocks against her desk. Ruì noticed that her boss liked to do that every time she wanted to make an impression. “Who told you that the House of M is paying for the discounts?” Magus Maymaruya appeared bewildered by Gwen's rhetorical question. “Ruì, come here for a minute.” Ruì presented herself demurely before the Master Enchanter, placing her minutes of the meeting aside. “Ruì, you’ve met Magus Maymaruya already. Magus, this is my Personal Assistant, Ruì. Magus, if there’s anything you need when I am not available, you can leave it with her.” Ruì bowed deeply. The Magus waved the girl away. “Ruì,” Gwen proposed to her P.A. “You run a restaurant. A high-end on the Bund. I come in and tell you that I can potentially bring 100,000 customers who will frequent your restaurant if you’re willing to take a 5% cut from your overall profit margin. Do you agree?” “Of course Ma’am!” Ruì nodded, recalling relevant statistics from memory. “A mundane fine-dining establishment operates with significant overhead, though a successful venture usually expects a gross profit between 60 - 90%. For magically-inclined restaurants serving Wildland ingredients and whose chefs may prepare magical creatures, the gross can be as high as 200%.” Magus Maymaruya eyed the NoM girl with interest. “Assuming 1% of my client-base: one thousand customers - will patronise your establishment every three months, will you accept a 5% discount exclusive to my customers?” “Of course, Ma’am!” “Well too bad.” Gwen folded her arms. “I am not including your restaurant unless…” “Ma’am?” Ruì looked confused, as did Magus Maymaruya. Gwen pinched her thumb and fingers together in the universal gesture for currency. “… you pay me.” “A commission, Ma’am?” “Yes, for bringing you customers like Dai Fung, the Wangs, and others of similar fame and fortune, high-rollers, all of them.” Gwen grinned. “Savvy?” “I don’t know what that means, Ma’am.” Ruì baulked. "But I can surmise that I would wish to join your venture." Gwen chuckled to herself, then turned to an enlightened Magus Maymaruya, who looked as though he’d just been read the Diamond Sutra. “I… I don’t know what to say.” The Magus had to wipe the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. "They're paying us to give our customers discounts? It's illogical and yet; it makes perfect sense." “There isn’t much else to it.” Gwen returned to her seat, nipped at a crease in her pantyhose, then stretched out her fingers. "The devil is in the details, of course. It's a numbers game. So, are we in agreement?” The Magus fell silent, thinking of Gwen's suspiciously modest proposal. Was the girl playing the humble ally? Or was she thinking that too much greed would only bring trouble? “And all you want…” he spoke finally. “… is one per cent stake in the program? I am only saying this for Mayuree’s sake, not to mention the Centurion proposal was entirely your idea. Why not ask for more?” Gwen felt an ironic pang of guilt. The poor man was asking her if taking one per cent of Citibank's Client-Service stock-value was cheating herself. If she were in her old world, a two-hundred and fifty thousand-a-year salary without overtime and inclusive of superannuation would have had people salivating. A consultant asking for a one per cent stake? The Board of Directors would take to her office and attempt to murder her with coffee spoons, ala Caesar! Of course, for the first year, her portion would be negligible. But if the House of M could succeed in running their faux ‘credit’ system in South Asia, mayhap even export the system, that one per cent could grow to be an astronomical figure. As for the likelihood of her client paying their due, the House of M was different from the CCP in that it would depend on Gwen’s growing prowess and influence. If and when she returned to Australia and stood beside Gunther and Alesia as a pillar of power within the Tower - would a mercantile conglomerate dare rescind their agreement? Had not Gwen promised to one day end Myăma’s dragon-infestation once and for all? To usurp her percentile stake would serve no one's interest, least of all the House of M's. “Yes,” Gwen stated confidently, her eyes softening. “I am willing to take a loss for Mayuree’s sake. I hope the House will gift her a greater share of controlling interest in the future.” The Magus bowed his head, blinking slowly to show his appreciation for Gwen's self-sacrifice. “Then we are agreed.” The two shook. Besides her boss and her client, Ruì bit her tongue. She had extrapolated predictions for the proposal, and its five-year figure had her teeth clattering. “I will deliver our contract to the House of M, and as per our agreement, I shall send a carbon copy to the Pudong Tower for officiation.” “Thank you, Magus. It's a pleasure doing business. Now, shall we put you in touch with Professor Ma?" "Please do," the Magus grunted, feeling his bones creak. "I will pass on your other proposal with our Matriarch. A team of unaffiliated NoM auditors? What a novel concept!" Gwen helped the old Enchanter to stand. “Are you going to see Mayuree now?” “I am.” Magus Maymaruya wiped the sweat from his brow. “I would think she'd want to hear the good news! More than friends, the two of you are now joined in enterpise!” Ruì escorted the Magus out the door. "Tell Dai and Ken to come back to the office," Gwen informed her P.A. "Where the hell did they go? Have they even finished their paperwork?" "I'll find out, Ma'am." Ruì returned to her table and began Messaging her peers. Unable to stomach the paperwork, her two co-workers had taken to truanting. Gwen meanwhile, relaxed at the desk, ignoring her very own mountain of accounts and reports for the moment. It was finally coming together: the Tonglv Canal, Professor Ma's Audit Committee, The House of M's faux credit-card system. There were only the Wangs left, but that could wait. For now, it was time to refocus on preparations for the IIUC and to bring her Spellcraft up another tier.

“Misty Step!” “Dimension Door!” “Sweep!” “Caliban!” ‘CLANG!’ Gila-ban caught Lulan’s blade with its torso, its scythe-sized claws missing Lulan’s thighs by an inch. “Lightning Bolt!” Lulan intercepted Gwen’s bolt with a hovering slab of iron, redirecting the current to the ground. “Sweep!” “Dimension Door!” “Misty Step!” “Cali, do it now!” Twisting sets of writhing tentacles shot from Caliban’s open maw. “Pierce!” Blocking Caliban with the first, Lulan's second slab of gleaming iron pinned Gwen's Familiar to the floor, pulling the creature's tentacles just enough so as to grazed, but not penetrate, her iron-clad dermis. Outside the duelling box, Richard and Kusu watched as the two girls thrust and parried one another’s spells. Lulan had the clear advantage at melee distance. Gwen dominated at longer ranges. Though Gwen could teleport rapidly, her tier 4 translocation took much more concentration than the Signature Blink utilised by the Clanner. Were it not for Gwen's prodigious affinity for Lightning; it would have been impossible for her to keep up with a melee Mage like Lulan. Of course, the Sword Mage’s advantage existed only in the confines of the Duelling Arena. Out in the real word, Gwen could displace herself as far as a hundred meters, while Lulan’s Misty Step managed twenty at best. “Slash!” “Dimension Do- Oof!” ‘Thunk!’ Lulan managed to catch Gwen on the tenth teleport, sending Gwen's non-Newtonian Shield skittering and sparking across the floor. “Gwen, are you alright?!” Lulan dispelled her swords, landing beside the winded sorceress. “I am fine.” Gwen nursed her left lumbar. Had her Shield had been a split-second slower, she would have paid a visit to the infirmary. “Ouch.” “Good fight!” Richard called out. “So, what’s your takeaway on fighting a dedicated Melee-Transmuter?” “Run the hell away.” Gwen took Lulan’s hand, catching herself on the girl’s shoulders. “I wouldn't have won if you had Caliban and Ariel out at the same time,” Lulan pointed out. “Not to mention your Dragon-hounds.” “Not in an ambush I won’t,” Gwen replied. “Especially not the dogs. Also, Ariel’s melee talents are fairly limited, and I need concentration to activate Barbanginy.” Her praise was overly humble, but there was a reason for that. Gwen wanted Lulan to build up her confidence. Otherwise, the fact that Ariel and Caliban had hasted charge-attacks when in their fully-empowered forms would have made short work of the melee-caster, not to mention her pseudo-Kirin could fly. “Just shoot yourself with an Elemental Sphere,” Richard quipped. “Ariel’s got IFF. I bet that’ll dissuade anyone from getting into a melee with you.” “What if they attack Ariel first?” Gwen pointed out. “Immediately unsummon, then re-summon Ariel with as much altitude as possible,” Richard counselled expertly. Gwen made an ‘O’ with her lips. "You need to reconsider your techniques from the perspective of a Spirit-possessing Elementalist." Richard patted his cousin on the head. "Watch my fight with Kusu; I'll show you." “Wow, that’s evil.” Lulan imagined Gwen hitting herself with an Elemental Sphere, catching her in the splash as she closed in for melee. “Additionally, you could go in with Invisible Familiar.” Richard laughed. “I’d love to see that.” “Suddenly, a Ba-ban-gin-ni.” Kusu shivered all over. “I can’t even imagine.” “Barbanginy,” Gwen corrected her companions. No one seemed capable of pronouncing the Noongar word for Lightning, least of all her Asian counterparts. With little else happening in the quiet start of December, the team had taken to training together in Gwen’s pre-booked training chamber. “I don’t know, Gwen…” Lulan dispelled her physical enhancements. “I don’t think I am suited for the IIUC.” “Nonsense.” Gwen hugged the girl about her shoulders. “Confidence, Lulu. You’re the quickest caster I know. You weren't even Hasted! If you can give me a run for my crystals, you’ll brutalise the others.” Thinking of the IIUC ahead, Gwen had decided to induct Lulan into her and Richard’s group. She had initially asked Petra, though the Enchanter made an excellent case for her vacancy. “One, I can’t use my Mind Magic in public. Two, I don’t bring a unique spell-set, I can only replicate spells our team already possesses. It’s not like I can borrow Spell-cubes from Master, or stow rare spells to take on Quests. That would violate the rules of the competition. It’s a test of competency and skill, not a test of who’s got the best backers.” Instead, Petra suggested that Gwen should groom Lulan as her front-line fighter. Lulan looked over at Richard. Gwen's cousin likewise affirmed her brilliance. “Lulan, you’re exactly what we need,” he assured her. “My defence and battlefield control you can attest to, but when it comes to offence, your efficacy is leagues ahead of mine. No one can disrupt casting as well as you.” Lulan beamed. "Alright, come on, Kusu," Richard ushered the Sword Mage into the make-shift duelling arena. "I'll make this easy!" A week after she had submitted her application, Gwen's Magitech ‘Quest’ remained unresolved. Her request was for an Enchanter with expertise on Data Slates to meet with her and discuss the possibility of additional glyph functions. The meet and greet itself would award 10 CCs, with an extra 20 - 40 CCs for each ‘function’ the Enchanter implemented. “It’s a strange request, so please be patient,” the doubtful clerk informed the infamous Worm Handler. “Assuming no one takes the Quest. Your deposit of 30 CCs will be refunded after ten weeks.” The deposit was a nice touch, Gwen had to admit. Quests rewarding CCs made by private entities must provide 50% of the payout as a deposit. Should the requester fail to pay the contractor, the Tower will award the deposit to the contractor, then penalise the offender. When she returned to the glass interior of her office, she caught sight of her three employees each at their private stations. Dai sat aimlessly with one leg across his knee, hiding behind a pile of paperwork, tossing a ball of Water to and fro, watching it turn into different forms as it reached the zenith of each arc. Across the table, Ken was earnestly making a futile attempt at the accounting homework Gwen had set the man, struggling to balance the accounts send in by Patriarch Fung’s Construction Golem Division. The difficulty lied in that someone had stolen about 300 HDMs worth of crystalline fuel and had written it off on overtime while simultaneously another manager was underpaying the NoM operators. When Gwen went through the report herself a day earlier, she had spotted the missing fuel pushed onto maintenance, while the schedules of at least a dozen NoM operators was fudged as 'human error'. But at least Ken was trying. On the farther side of the open office, her P.A seemed to have taken to work like a Mermaid to water. Ruì's table, intentionally designed by Gwen to be larger than her Mage companions and curved to resemble a kidney, had neatly stacked paperwork in the manner Gwen preferred - ‘To Do,’ ‘In Progress,’ and ‘Ready for Submission’. “Ruì,” she greeted her P.A first and foremost before turning her attention to the others. “Good work, where did you get up to?” “Almost done with the East Quadrant Warehouse Expense account, Ma’am,” Ruì answered reverently. What Gwen had taught her over the last few days would have made Professor Ma blush for shame. The manner in which her absurdly young teacher had split the accounts into Cash Accounting for their smaller operations and Accrual Accounting for Tonglv’s construction was ingenious. Now equipped with the ability to report revenue and expense on a quarterly-basis, Ruì could generate periodic tax liabilities the Canal owed the state. The smaller, for-profit operations could then offset their tax against the construction project, whose taxes were offloaded to the District Governor’s office for reimbursement by the CCP’s Central Economic Bureau. This way, the profitable operation paid less tax, while Governor Fung could keep a finger on the pulse of the project's budget. “I can’t believe we’re making crystals through accounting!” “Ha, saving on taxes IS no different to generating profit,” Gwen praised her P.A. “Any Messages for me?” If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. “Yes, Ma’am.” Ruì pulled out a data slate from under her table. “Professor Ma says that everything is proceeding smoothly with Secretary Fung and the others in Nantong and they should be operational starting next year. He had some questions which he will deliver to you via data slates. You’ve also got a Message from the House of M, requesting a time slot for later in the week. Also, someone called Tao Wang Messaged in, saying he had free tickets for a ‘show’; that’s all I have for today.” “Very good, Ruì. Good work,” Gwen golf-clapped. She then turned to the young men sweating at their desks. “Message Tao and thank him, but tell him I am busy. Ken, Dai? Got some good news for me?” Ken sat sweltering in his ergonomic chair. “I’ll need another hour, er… make that two hours.” "That's fine, Ken. Keep it up. Dai?” Dai blinked at Gwen, his face full of irritation. “What was I supposed to do again?” Gwen pointed to the paperwork. “You can’t be serious…” “You didn’t do it?” “Ruì can do it.” Dai waved at the NoM girl. “Ruì! Can do you this for me later?” “Yessir,” Ruì answered demurely. “See?” Dai smirked. Gwen grinned back, flashing her teeth. The temperature in the already glyph-cooled room lowered. Dai felt every hair on his neck stand to attention. Carefully, he dispelled his water-ball. “Ruì, Ken, leave us.” Ruì ran for the door, joined by Ken, who was more than happy to get away from the accounts unbalancing his sanity. “Dai Fung!” Gwen stalked toward their power-progeny heavily. She couldn't believe that after all that 'pep' she had to go through, the man remained as useless as a log. “Explain yourself.” "What's there to explain?" "Why aren't you doing your assigned work?" "I am beyond this bullshit, give me something better to do." "How the hell are you supposed to manage Ruì or your future aides if you have no idea what they're showing you?! How useless do you hope to be? What did you promise me?" Dai’s face changed from smugness to one of indignant ire. He had given the girl more space than he had given anyone in his twenty-two years of existence, yet still, she shamelessly stood on his toes. “Cao! Who do you think you are, speaking to me like this?” Dai cracked his neck, standing over her. "Dai, do you want me to call your father right now?" Gwen didn't bother with the invitation to dance, choosing instead to go straight for the gonads. Dai's complexion reddened. The girl had gone too far. He had thought the minx fun and beautiful and lively, but now she'd upgraded from standing on his toes to walking over his face. The audacity of the woman! Give her three colours, and she would open a paint factory! He raised a hand as if to slap her, expecting her to flinch or at least take back her threat. Who does this biaozi think she is? She's just a girl, a dual-elementalist, a Void Mage, a soon to be Magus, someone who duelled Wonsoo Liu to the hospital- WOCAO! Dai's passion cooled, his logic coming to an unfortunate realisation. Gwen could kick the shit out of him without breaking a sweat! Subtlely lowering his hand to scratch his nose, Dai nervously looked away, then glanced back to see if Gwen had gotten upset. Instead, his unrequited amour cooly stepped away. “Hello? Fung Group Office? This is Gwen Song, connect me to Patriarch Fung, please. It’s urgent.” “Tamade!” Dai's hand was moving with a mind of its own. “Water Missile!” A blast of water shot through the air and struck the girl squarely across her upper torso. Miraculously, the water did not injure his target but travelled up her blouse and her arm until it tore the Message Device, a thin gold bracelet, from her wrist, sending it clattering to the floor. “What in Mao’s name do you think you’re doing?” Dai stood from his chair, his back drenched with cold sweat. Wocao! Wocao! Wocao! His mind raced a million miles a minute. What the fuck am I doing? Get father involved? Need it come to that? Was she so bad at taking a joke? In front of him, Gwen wrung a handful of water from her hair. The jet-blast had avoided most of her clothes, but the resultant splash, though harmless, had caught her hair and her right shoulder. “I should ask you the same question, what do you think you’re doing?” Dai’s retort caught in his throat. He was in the wrong, but he could see her bra. Truth be told, he could see a hint of cleavage too. He tried to think. Hmm, they're smaller than he thought. “Erm… we should get the cleaners in,” Dai stammered after racking his brain for half a minute. “The water will ruin the floor.” “Clean it up,” Gwen commanded, her eyes glowing with supernatural aggravation, setting her amber-green irises ablaze. “That’s for the cleaners!” Dai insisted stubbornly, his eyes wide and staring, unable to tear himself from the unexpected titillation. "!" Gwen crossed the floor in an instant, faster than Dai could blink. She caught Dai's collar before he could decide whether summoning his Spirit to defend him was a better or worse course of action. Pulling his face within an inch of her demanding gaze, she cranked her Dragon-fear to eleven. “Suiqi, clean it up!” Dai croaked. An aquamarine salamander, its body entirely transparent, slithered from Dai’s pant leg to lap up the water he had spilt, leaving not a single drop. “Do you want to be here, Dai?” Gwen waited until the salamander dissipated before releasing the man’s tie. Her eyes softened, in Dai's eyes, the girl choked back a torrent of emotions threatening to spill. “Am I forcing you to be here? Are you my prisoner?” Dai had fully expected Gwen to slap him or at least attack him with a Lighting Bolt. Instead, his whole body had gone numb with indescribable guilt. “N-no… I want to be here.” A rush of blood hammered at his head, he couldn't think. “Then am I not doing enough?” Gwen demanded of Dai. “Have I not done enough for you?” Dai’s eyes told her 'yes', but his lips were forming a 'no'. A few inches from the man, Gwen recognised the stubbornness. Dai wasn’t just a regular idiot; he was a narcissistic, megalomaniac idiot. “I made a deal with your Father, Dai.” Gwen moved her hands to his shoulders. With her grip strength, the man couldn't escape without touching her, which she knew he dared not to do. “I told him I would take care of you, make you into someone useful for our operation. Instead, you loaf about all day, moping about this and that, playing the loser.” “How dare-” A single glare from Gwen was enough to silence him. Gwen sighed. As a man, a companion, or a co-worker, Dai was a failure. She would put him to his proper use, harness Dai's out of control testosterone. If she left him as he is, he was a liability for when she went away on the IIUC. "Have you calmed down?" Dai nodded. “Then listen to me, Dai Fung,” she spoke slowly and meticulous. “My dearest wish is for you to be standing atop the Fung Group, leading your company, lording over your Clan, being you, standing beside Vice-Chairman Tu, Magister Chen and Patriarch Fung. That was my intent when your father pleaded for your position. A condition I agreed to because I was very much full of hope for your ascension. Wow, Dai Fung, I told myself, what a catch. He must be an incredible guy…” Dai stared at Gwen with his mouth half open, flabbergasted by her sudden tenderness. “… So I come out here, working my ass off; for myself of course, but also you. I got you to rent the office for me so you could show your father that you can do it, show him that you're competent. Else I could have asked the Wangs. Look around. We built this place, Dai, and it looks amazing - don’t you think it looks amazing?” “Y-yes,” Dai confessed, his voice croaking. "I jog at 6 AM - did you know I start my day at 5 AM? I get up at 4 AM, Dai, and I think to myself. I better train my ass off, because I need to be at the office, consulting, whipping you and Ken and Ruì into shape, answering mail, writing reports, drafting proposals. But I don’t gripe about it, okay, Dai? I don’t bitch about it. I go home at 6 PM, and you know what I do? I have supper, and then I train again. Training for the IIUC, Dai. No rest for the wicked. But why? Well, you know why. I took time out of my training to make sure that you have an easier time. But I don’t brag about it, how come? Why go to all the trouble?" "..." Dai's lips parted. "I don't know." "Because I want to do it - because I believe in you - because you’re worth it. Okay?” Gwen revved her Almudj's Essence like a chainsaw. “Okay,” Dai muttered, mesmerised by her oratory, paralysed by her Dragon-fear. “So help me, Dai.” Gwen welcomed the climax of her speech. She could hardly contain her excitement. Who’d thought one of her favourite in-flight films would be so damn useful? Even parroting the line, she shivered with motivational energy. “So help me - help you. Dai. Help me, help you.” Dai nodded. The two stood in awkward silence. Fuck, Gwen forced her face to remain impassive. Was it too much? The kid better not be too thick-skulled to take it all in. “I am sorry,” her opponent suddenly exhaled, his eyes grew moist. “That’s the most touching thing anyone has ever said to me. I love you.” Not the reaction I was looking for, but good enough. Gwen relaxed: if anything, she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. What’s with these assholes who don’t appreciate their parents. What about your father, Dai? Didn't he send you to me to make crystals and gain reputation? If she had a father like Dai’s, she would have been ten times the man Dai was right now. Hell, she'd probably be the right-hand woman to Secretary-General Miao. “Thank you, Da-” ‘Ding!’ Her Message device chimed from the floor. “It’s your father.” Gwen glanced at the pale young man before picking up her device. Dai bowed. For the first time in his life, he bowed wholeheartedly to someone who wasn't his father. Patriarch Fung had called to ask why she had hung up. Gwen apologised and told him she had another incoming call, and that the matter was regarding Dai and if she could ask him to canvas Shanghai’s Fu-er-dai to find financiers for Tonglv’s second-stage expansion. “If he’s up to it.” Patriarch Fung knew well his Son’s ability. From his dubious tone, the man doubted Gwen’s grandiose projection of Dai’s competence. “I have full confidence in his abilities.” Gwen flashed Dai with a smile that showed off her pearly whites. “Hee, you're too generous.” Unlike Dai, Patriarch Fung wasn’t a man so easily taken in. “Good work bringing in Ma, by the way. It puts me at ease knowing he’s watching over Tu and Chen.” The same to you, Gwen stifled a snigger. “Anyway, keep me updated. If Dai acts up, tell him, I'll skin him alive.” Shen Fung terminated the Message. Gwen was once again alone in the room with the Patriarch's darling son. Just as she was wondering how else she could bend the young princeling to her will, Dai bowed again, a full ninety-degree show of subservience. “I’ll do it,” Dai announced, his eyes fervent. “Just tell me what to do.” Gwen’s eyes moved toward the paperwork. Dai’s profile grew rigid. It wasn't that he didn't want to do it, but that he essentially couldn't do it. Was it his fault that he had spent three years in Jianqiao duelling, drinking, whoring and partying? It's not like securing guan-xi and hooking up with the nouvelle riche taught him how to balance and audit financial statements. “I won’t ask you to do that anymore, at least not until you ease into it.” Gwen threw him a carrot. “How about instead, you do something that'll benefit the both of us, and carry out your father’s plans?” Dai’s expression grew hopeful. “With Professor Ma now overseeing external Audits, we can afford a more rapid expansion,” Gwen stated. What she meant, of course, was that Tonglv was now a big old slab of braised pork dripping with fat, with every Secretary and his dog wanting a slice. “You, my friend, are going to do what you do best. Did you hear what I told your father? You can do that much for me, right?” “I’ll convince them!” Dai expressed eagerly. There it is! Gwen breathed out. Dai was finally getting it. “Ha, I am not sending you out there alone! Take this." Gwen snapped her fingers, producing an obsidian currency card made of a material so dark that it seemed to absorb light. “This an Orichalcum-Centurion Card.” The card drifted through the air until it reached Dai’s hands. The moment his fingers touched its surface, it lit up with two pictograms that read ‘Dai Fung’, followed by the pictogram Sigil for his Clan besides his name. “It’s heavy…” Dai hefted the card. “Mao, this is real Orichalcum!” “Of course it is.” Gwen snorted. “When you go out with your friends, make sure you present this card at each club and restaurant.” “Why?” “Because they're worth your time and interest. That card is a limited-edition item from the House of M. At any establishment owned or affiliated with the House of M; you will receive VIP personalised service: private rooms, discounts, limited stock, the works.” Dai, of course, knew of the House of M. He was one of their most frequent customers, although, like most of the power-progeny, he was a VIP only in the sense of a fox borrowing the tiger’s terror. “And at places not connected to the House of M?” “You show the card anyway,” Gwen chuckled. “Remember, it’s called the M-Centurion Card. Or the Orichalcum-Card. There’s only a few like it in existence at this point. Don’t lose it.” “Why am I doing this?” Though suspicious, Dai pocketed the card anyway. He was too curious not to try it out, not to mention the damned thing was Orichalcum! “You don’t have to-” Gwen reached out a dainty white hand. "Give it back, I am sure Peaches..." “I’ll do it!” Dai knew he was not committed to the girl's demands. Whatever Gwen's intent, he would have to pay his dues. It was the least he could do to show appreciation to the girl who thought of him so dearly. Gwen glanced at the clock. They’d been at this for too long. Ruì needed to go back to work. “I am glad we see eye to eye, Dai.” Gwen softened her stance. “Now take that card, and...” “And?” Dai asked eagerly. “… don’t forget to pay the balance at the end of the month.”

December descended upon the pearl of Asia, accompanied by the coming of first-snow. From the East China Sea, Shanghai resembled a giant snow-globe. Thanks to the city's Super-Massive Resonance Barrier, downy flakes of ice crystal became trapped within the dome, swirling and drifting, carried by invisible currents. Yet, despite the growing frigidity, the figure of a girl, lithe and picturesque, jogged through Fudan's Gouding Road, heedless of the cold, steaming gently in her thermo-tights and runners. She was by now a well-known sight, for beside the girl was a menacing Mongolian Death Worm, while above her, invisible, floated a Kirin-marten. Though she began her exercise in the dark, Gwen could see just as well whether at dawn or dusk, another boon gifted by the Essence exercise Ayxin had taught her. As for the Dragon-kin, the woman had dominated Gwen's mind over the last week, especially when she grew hyper-conscious of the fact that her 'training-crutch', a Dragon-Scale regulating her Essence, belonged to the Dragon-Mage herself, plucked from her neck. Along the way, Caliban wagged at an aunty who had risen early, preparing the charcoal for making grilled buns. In return, it received a stick of fried dough. Gwen bowed her head, keeping her pace. The fact remained that she could neither contact uncle Jun nor Ayxin, nor did she have time to pursue the matter. In the interceding weeks, Gwen had finally picked up a tuned version of Ice Storm, learned free of charge courtesy of Magus Young, her Evocation Lecturer, at the behest Dean Luo. At the same time, she began practising with Wall of Lightning, a spell well provisioned by the depth of her mana pool. Unfortunately, a Wall of Void, with its proportional expenditure of vitality and mana to length, height and length, proved itself to be a precarious and highly conditional contingency. Additionally, she took flying lessons with a guest Instructor at Fudan, recommended by Jun. The Magus, Eric Dienhart, was said to be an Aerial Ace, retiring only when the psychological burden of the Front began to impact his mind. When Gwen arrived at the lower campus training grounds, she was surprised to see Kitty, Mayuree’s guard from the Kunlun Clan, waiting for her. “You’re the new student?!” Kitty’s expression couldn’t have been colder. “Hi, Kitty!” Gwen cheerfully waved at her. “Haven’t seen you around for almost three months!” “I’ve been training.” Kitty’s complexion was as white as snow, a testament to her growing affinity in Ice and Air. Gwen noticed that as she spoke, the girl drifted back and forth, as though a strong breeze might blow her away. “We should duel sometime.” “Oh certainly.” Gwen grinned, wondering if Kitty had any idea about Caliban or Ariel, or her recent growth spurt. “Looking forward to it.” Kitty escorted Gwen to their Instructor, a gruff old military type. Like Instructor Chen, Gwen’s Creature Mage mentor, Wing Commander Dienhart was the type to put up a front of good cheer. “You two know each other?” The man appeared surprised by Gwen's acquaintance with Kitty. “Here I’d thought Kit's a lone wolf.” “We’re not friends.” Kitty was desperate to clear the confusion. “We’re battle-buddies,” Gwen reminded Kitty that they had Quested together. "We're neighbours, even." Kitty hissed. “Never forsake your battle-buddy,” Dienhart chided Kitty for her immaturity. “Alright, let’s begin with some basic exercises. Gwen, show me everything you got.” Gwen could scarcely believe her eyes and ears when the LRM Device pinged at dinner, revealing the caller to be Yue. “OH MY GOD! YUE!” She squealed into the holographic Illusion, negligent of Richard and Petra's annoyance as they tried to finish their take out. Yue's projection materialised head first, with Gwen holding her breath until her companion’s robust bosom joined the fray, authenticating her friend's identity. “GWENNIE!” "YUE-YUE~!" The two girls studied each other with a frightening intensity. Almost a year on since rescuing Yue from Sufina’s Grot, the Fire Mage appeared older and wiser, having acquired a tan and cut her hair shoulder-short. Interestingly, Gwen noted Yue wore a white-blue singlet in the shade of the Royal Australian Air Force, paired with matching cargos in camo. “I’ve missed you so much!” Gwen gushed, finally catching her breath. “I’ve called Alesia a dozen time, but you were always away.” “I know.” Yue’s voice was huskier than Gwen remembered, more mature. “Lots of Lizardmen drama on the Brisbane Line, so Alesia’s boys took me up north. It was supposed to be three weeks, but it ended up being a tour! Haha.” Gwen's gaze drifted to the rank-Glyph Yue hung on a string between her bosoms. “Yue! You got promoted! Evee was right!” “That’s Cadet Warrant Officer Yue to you!” Her friend chuckled, snapping a crisp salute. Gwen snapped back with one of her own. “That’s a terrible salute!” Yue mocked Gwen's feeble attempt. “Whatchu been doing?" “Oh~ projects. This and that. Trying to make ends meet, hee hee." “Hmm, so I've heard. But, first things first, when are you coming back?” "Ah..." In all honesty, Yue's question caught Gwen flat-footed. With everything going on from Uncle Jun to Mayuree to the Fungs, she hadn't felt homesick in some time. “...not for a long while,” Gwen replied with a measured voice, assuring Yue that she was indeed coming back when the time was ripe. “I’ve got the IIUC coming up, then three more semesters of University, and that’s assuming I pass my Magus exams. Did you know I am the subject of a dozen research papers?” Yue snorted with laughter. “You’re a student and a specimen? So you're engaged in self-study?” “Well, you know what they say - 'If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.'" "Umm... Gwen?" Before Gwen could continue, Petra politely interrupted. “I am going to bed,” her cousin informed them. She disliked skulking in the corner while Gwen conversed on the LRM Device. “Woa, there's your hottie cousin again!” Yue wolf-whistled, waving to Petra. Richard took the cue to walk into the LRM Device's field of view. "Yes? You called." "ARRRGH! Richard ya old dog!" Yue laughed out loud. "Yue, good to see you. Doing well?" “Better, I am doing good!" Yue replied. "Joining us?" Richard shook his head. "Naw, I am off to Nantong first thing in the morning. Don't talk too late. Petra and Gwen need their sleep as well." "Nite, Richard." "See ya." "See you in a week or two." The man left. With Richard gone, Gwen and Petra stood shoulder to shoulder. “Are you the one dissecting Gwen?” Yue followed up with an inquiry of surprising abrasiveness. "What's she like on the operating table?" Petra and Gwen exchanged glances. Gwen recalled that she had indeed bitched to Alesia about Wen, Petra's Master. The Scarlet Sorceress must have Chinese-whispered her displeasure, and now Yue was taking it out on Petra. Like Alesia, Yue was the type whose heart and mouth were interconnected, bypassing the brain. “Yue!” Gwen Shielded Petra from view. She gave her cousin an apologetic wave. Petra declined, shaking her head, then left for her room. "Yue! That was very rude; Petra's been nothing but kind to me." “Hey, a girl’s got a right to be curious." The conversation stalled. "So, you got a boyfriend yet?” Sensing Gwen's displeasure, Yue banked and barrel-rolled onto a safer topic. “No, do you?” “Nope. Nothing to fuck out there but seven-foot lizards. Did you know their dick’s got two knobs? It's like a Y-shape.” Gwen gagged, trying to dispel Yue's vivid vision of reptilian phallus. “That’s a crock!” Gwen shot back. For some unknown reason, she was reminded Ayxin, who could change gender at will. _Egh,_ Uncle Jun better watch his ass. “First of all, you’re out there with hundreds of Mages, all beautiful human beings, amongst whom I am sure there are at least a dozen have an active interest in shacking up with a well-endowed sorceress with many talents. Second of all, how do you know you won't like lizard dick? Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” “Puhahahaha!" Yue was beside herself. “…” Gwen herself was surprised by how quickly she slid back into immaturity. Such was the terrifying power of Yue's foul-mouthed charisma that all the tension she had collated over the last few weeks dissolved at once. “Lizard-amour aside, tell me about the Saurian-Front. Give me some highlights,” she implored. “You want stories of lizard dick? We wrangled some giant mother-fuckers, I’ll tell you that.” “God.” Gwen stifled another round of laughter. “Be serious! So, how was it?” “Well.” Yue tilted her head. “Let me tell you about this village we hit up in mid-November…” Yue's descriptions lacked flare, but its simplicity was no less haunting than a well-told epic. With Alesia in recuperation, the Scarlet Sorceress' Apprentice roved up and down the coast with Alesia’s old unit, kicking ass, completing Quests, and taking names. From week to week, she Purged new mining regions, defended coastal townships and hunted down particularly nasty magical creatures threatening the banana and mango plantations. The climax was when Yue dove into the canopied jungle in pursuit of a Saurian Priest that had sacrificed a sugar cane processing station's two-hundred strong staff. “Oh yeah, check this out.” Yue pulled up her singlet. “Woooa!” Gwen instinctively averted her eyes. The illusory projection was very much three-dimensional. When she gathered the courage to look again, her eyes meandered past the udder madness of Yue’s shameless bravado and instead focused on a strange discolouration marring Yue's upper body. Upon closer inspection, Gwen realised she was looking at a patch of Yue's body that was pale and supple, sharply juxtaposed against the rest of her tanned and peeling dermis. If the effect had been reversed, Gwen would have thought Yue was suffering from a driver’s tan, but Yue's exhibition indicated the opposite. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. “Impressive as ever, are you showing off?” Gwen fought back a sinking suspicion, disarming her paranoia with humour. “I am not taking off my top, by the way.” “Looks weird, right?” Yue chortled. She pointed at her right arm and breast. “How about that, huh, new arm and a new boob." Gwen's next words choked before she could speak. “Yep, lost the old pair.” Yue thankfully replaced her shirt, her tone inferring that she had suffered a stomach upset. “Let me tell ya; those lizards don’t fuck around. Got nabbed by one of their Champions in the canopy, jumped me from a tree. CHOMP! Cut through Taj's Shield, just like that. Had a bite-force like a fucking foundry-press. Fuck, it hurt like hell. Thankfully, Jonas had a Regeneration scroll on em. Still, had to stay back at the Brisbane Tower for rehab, took two weeks.” “Jesus, Yue…” Yue flexed her arm. “Pretty interesting, yeah? Anyway, thought I’d let you know, always keep a Regeneration Scroll handy.” “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks, Yue.” “Anyway, I am sending you a souvenir. You should get it in a month or so.” “Oh? What is it?” “You’ll see. Call me when you get it,” Yue grinned, showing her teeth. Gwen felt immediately suspicious. “Alright, gotta go. Look forward to the package!” Not one for sentimental goodbyes, Yue cut the Message link with a finality that Gwen could never manage herself. Not yet ready, Gwen found herself suddenly alone in the darkness of her living room, overlooking the vista of Fudan below, her mind's eye still thinking of Yue's creamy left lumbar juxtaposed against the rest of her tanned body. She wondered at that moment, what life would have been like had she not gone with Guo’s men to Shanghai. Yue's adventures were like a parallel journey, the road not taken. Had she fought tooth and nail to return home, it would probably be herself, Yue and Richard, roving the east coast, building up their military credentials. Gwen imagined a life without Petra, or Babulya, or uncle Jun or Tao and Mina and even Mayuree, Lulan and Kusu. In hindsight, how could that be enough? Split between paperwork and Spellcraft, mid-December came on in a wintery haze. Each morning, come wind, rain or snow, Gwen persisted in her early morning jog, her Draconic-constitution trivialising the extremity of weather. Unlike her work, December saw the gradual shutdown of the university and its surrounding industry. With a diminished roster of staff and students, many of the eateries, cafes, and street stalls reduced their staff and opening hours. Gwen’s office, in contrary to the local trend, had gotten busier. She picked up two more NoM staff members from James Ma, a young man called Terence Li, and a mousy quiet mathematician by the name of Effi Chen. Now at a full allotment of five employees plus Gwen, her work could be offloaded to subordinates. For day to day operations, Ruì remained in command, overseeing Dai and Ken, who managed dealings with their fellow Mages. As for paperwork, the lion’s share of accounting first went through Effi and Terence, then to Ruì, and finally to Gwen. At Gwen’s behest, all of her NoM employees had access to simple, crystal operated Magitech such as Message Devices, Translation Ioun Stones, as well as other conveniences of life. Dai meanwhile, had taken to his Centurion privileges like a fish to water. He roved the Bund day and night with his band of Guan-er-dai and Fu-er-dai friends, doing luncheons and throwing lavish banquets, sweet-talking them into buying the canal’s Stage 1 expansions, and for those who had missed out, a chance to invest in Stage 2. The House of M, meanwhile, had quickly begun to grasp the quirks of a Centurion customer’s desires, acknowledging that men like Dai cared less about crystals and more about face. Simple occurrences such as a maître d` knowing one by name, a restaurant offering a free bottle of expensive wine as a gift, or segregating one from the mundane customers via exclusive seating, made all the difference. Naturally, every interaction began and ended with Dai presenting his Centurion membership. When Gwen read the House of M’s reports on Dai’s spending and activities, she was pleased to find that a significant buzz had engendered among the upper-class gentry of Shanghai. When finally, in a conversation with Tao, the wannabe rapper mentioned that his father had enquired about the Centurion card, Gwen knew she was onto a good thing. By late December, Gwen knew she needed a break to stretch out her brain. Training indoors in a private sanctum and scribbling reports in an office was beginning to grate on her patience. If nothing else, her joints were growing mouldy. She contacted Richard, who had by now returned to Nantong with Kusu and Lulan, then joined them for a week in the Yengchen coastal District, clearing out a particularly aggressive infestation of Mer-Gobs. She had invited Percy, but her brother was occupied by MSS Instructors fortifying his Abjuration and Evocation. According to her grandfather, Percy’s new Abjuration talent was exceptional, potentially even exceeding Gwen’s acquired skills. He suspected that the boy had a natural talent for that particular School of Spellcraft and that their accidental trigger had brought out the boy's latent abilities. At any rate, regardless of whether his talents were acquired or natural, Gwen was happy that Percy was filling the shoes of expectation the family had laid out for him. As for herself, her mastery over her hound spells was progressing nicely, not to mention she had finally purchased a Signature Spell previously deemed too dangerous to use without a Spirit - one with a hefty overhead of 80 CCs. **Robinson’s All-Purpose Cloud Kill** Conjuration (5) Casting Time: 56 Major, 25 Minor Incantation Range: Medium, LoS, AoE Components: Somatic, Verbal, Component Duration: Instant, Persistent. _Since its initial inception during World War I, Meister Fritz Harber's original AoE has undergone significant revisions. The original invocation, utilising a catalyst of silver-salt activated with Positive Energy, generated a rapidly expanding 'cloud' with the means to disable low to mid-tier Undead. The spell’s current incarnation is the brainchild of British Meister Robert Robinson, whose work on the physiology of Demi-humans and Magical Creatures culminated in the spell's Signature variant. Without a catalyst, Cloud Kill generates an area of Elementally volatile discharge. When employing Earthen catalysts, the spell’s effervescent effects can be altered to produce light, corrosion, poison, or used to repel Undead._ ** _This spell has a Class 2 Restriction and requires registration with a Tower._** To test the effectiveness of Gwen's new acquisition, Richard, Lulan and Kusu, together with Gwen's deer-hounds, corralled some hundred odd slavering Mer-Gobs into a ditch Lulan had dug out with Shape Stone. Gwen then took the thirty second needed to conjure the massive tier 5 Area of Effect Conjuration, unleashing her new spell upon her gibbering test subjects. Her first attempt discharged a cloud of electricity that succeeded in paralysing enemies stuck within its field of effect. “How wonderful,” Gwen remarked. She was all for non-lethal alternatives. After which, she began experimenting with catalyst-driven variants. In all honesty, the curious sorceress wasn’t sure what she had expected: the spell was called 'Cloud Kill', it created a cloud of elemental discharge. Why should she be surprised when the addition of a chunk of Volcanic rock-salt modified her static-charged Conjuration to emit a 'cloud' of horrid green gas that 'killed'? In all likelihood, it was because of the screeching. Unlike the usual mob of Gobs and Goblins, Mer-Gobs were semi-aquatic, breathing through their skin. When the gas descended upon the Mer-Gobs, melting their gills, it drove them into a self-destructive frenzy. “Wocao!” Kusu shied away from the foul-smelling odour. For some reason, he was reminded of indoor pools; only the noxious fume was a thousand times more concentrated. “Can Ariel control that?” Gwen shook her head. The advertising on the spell was misleading. She could control the static-cloud, but the will of the wind drove the gas. No wonder the damned thing required Tower registration and couldn’t be used within the city. “Well, go on, try the other ones.” Richard was brimming with interest, urging her to prepare all the variants. "I don't think I want to." "Oh, come on." Richard nudged her. "You can't just leave the Gobs to choke like that." "I want to see as well!" Lulan raised her hand. The spell was anything but fascinating to a sorceress long used to cleaving through flesh and bone. Gwen gazed at the Goblin-filled pit. As usual, Richard's logic was sound; the Mer-Gobs had to die. Any longer and the buggers would suffer needlessly - that or tunnel through the pit’s bottom. Convincing herself that it was for Spellcraft, she produced the other minerals they had procured from the Magic Ingredient shop on Gouding Road, then activated them one by one as quickly as she could, stopping only to record their effects. A bar of Cinnabar produced a paralysing and suffocating silvery gas. A block of Pyrite turned the cloud into a mustard-like acid. "I think we should stop." Gwen had goosebumps riding her skin from her shins to her neck. "I'll finish them off with a Barbanginy Sphere." "There's one more ingredient," Richard pointed out. "Come on. You need to know how the spell works. Don't just waste the CCs." Her final catalyst was a lump of salt-like Apatite. Once injected into the spell, the resultant 'cloud' spontaneously ignited in the air into white-hot incandescence, raining molten motes of phosphor onto its Mer-Gob victims. “Jesus, this Robinson must REALLY despise Magical Creatures,” Gwen observed the atrocity below, her jaws grim with second-hand memories from her old world. There was a finality about her other Evocation spells, whether Void Bolt to Ball Lightning, that bespoke of purpose. Robinson's Cloud Kill, in Gwen's eyes, was a spell designed to deliver suffering. “This fucking spell, it shouldn’t exist.” "It's a blunt instrument." Richard patted her on the back. “The next time we have to crawl into a Mer-Gob Den only as wide as your shoulders, you’ll think otherwise. I might pick up the spell myself.” “Richard!” she snapped, pointing at the scene below. “You can’t think this is an acceptable act, even in war. It's too dangerous!” “Don’t be such a hypocrite!” Richard pushed back, catching her flatfooted, being accustomed to her cousin grinning and shrugging off her 'Gwenisms'. When she persisted in glaring at him, he gave her a quick flick on the forehead, to which she responded by punching him solidly in the arm. “Hey! Don't get pissy at me. The spell of the hand! Remember?! It wasn't my Master who said that!” The retort struck her conscience like a physical blow. 'It's the spell of the heart that murders, not the spell of the hand,' her Master's wisdom rang in her head like it was yesterday. But hypocrite or otherwise, her heart refused to accept the scene below. There was a steepness to the murderous efficacy offered by Cloud Kill that only a student of human history understood in its totality. She lowered her head. Richard, Lulan, and Kusu stood to one side, measuring their soft-hearted, stubborn-willed leader with their eyes. In the pit below, the last Mer-gob thrashed and died, leaving nothing but the stink of sizzling fish to permeate the foetid air. It took Lulan all but thirty-seconds to fill the mass-grave. “Let’s go.” Gwen motioned for her party to move. “Gonna need another pit,” Richard reminded her. “We got ten more kilometres to cover, and you haven’t finished investigating your spell yet.” “Then we'll do it the usual way!” Gwen snarled. Hadn't she done enough? She tried out all the damn minerals! “Yes.” Richard studied Lulan as he cleaned up, then turned to Gwen with an awkward grin. “But we haven’t seen the Void variant…” After a break like that, Gwen decided she needed a break. "Alright, everyone! Let's get ready for a big Christmas bash! Ham, sparkling wine, merriment and gifts for all!" Her workers, regrettably, first froze, then regarded her with confusion, concern, and accusatory glances full of discomfort. From their expressions, she may as well have told them they were having a unicorn-themed lingerie party. “I never figured you for a follower of King of the Jews.” Dai took great interest in the unexpected revelation, though Gwen could sense the apprehension in the man’s voice. “Does my father know about your allegiance? Not that I mind...” Taken aback, Gwen looked to Ken for a second opinion, completely flabbergasted by the resistance she was receiving against an innocuous Xmas Party. “Maybe it’s not my place to say this.” Ken coughed, averting her gaze. “But there's going to be of trouble if you openly worship the Magi of Nazareth.” Her NoM workers were likewise intimidated. “OKAY, HOLD IT!” Gwen commanded her workshop elves to cease their fantastic imaginations at once. “Minor Image!” She conjured a glowing Christian Cross. “What does this mean to you.” “That’s the Christian Symbol for the Almighty.” Dai glanced at Ken. Beside his godless comrade, Ken Duan visibly shivered. “Come on, Gwen, you're not seriously going to hold a ritual in the office, are you? Can't you keep this sort of thing at home? Look, you're scaring Ruì.” The NoMs backed away. Gwen stopped herself from tearing a clump of hair out. She conjured, with great effort, a jolly fat man in red and white. “Does _this_ mean anything to you?” she enquired hopefully. The men and women under her care shook their heads in unison. What in Mao's name had brainwashed their boss? First, she wants to hold a ritual to honour the mortal birth of a Western God, and now she's showing them an image of a jolly Gweilo in red? Why did the man have a sack? What’s with the beard? Was he, perhaps, a high-priest serving the Christian God? The man certainly looked fat enough to be a high priest. The crimson on his clothes, could it perhaps, symbolise the blood sacrifice made by Christ as he sought to overthrow the old Theocracy? The fivesome collectively shivered; they had heard through snippets of propaganda, that Orthodox Christians consumed the body of their Lord and drank his blood. Was that why the high priest was so fat? “Er… I have to go.” Ken reached the door. “Permission to return after New Years.” “NO!” Gwen’s Dragon-fear froze her audience where they stood. More than anything she realised she had to clear up this misunderstanding. “I am not a disciple of the Christian God! Christmas is a...” She replayed a flashback of last year's Christmas spent at Elvia’s mansion. They had prayed, said grace, ate and drank, then Elvia had sung Silent Night, and they released candles. But there was no Santa. _Holy shit_ , Gwen baulked at the memory. There was no _Santa_. Thanks to Elvia's divine presence, she hadn't even noticed there were no reindeers, no baubles, and no Christmas tree! Her family had indeed had been celebrating the birth of Christ. Her workers’ questioning eyes bored into her, demanding answers, wondering if they should report their employer to the MSS for unsanctioned worship of a foreign religion. Gwen knew she had to do something to offset their concerns. “As I was saying, Christmas is not a religious holiday in Australia. In Australia, we call it BOXING DAY.” The workers regarded one another. Boxing day? What did pugilism have anything to do with it? “Ah, I see why you’re wondering why we celebrate Boxing instead of Christmas in Australia.” Her audience nodded. “You know we have Kangaroos, right?” Though none of her audience had seen a Kangaroo, they had a general idea of the deadly marsupial's prowess. The bestiary stated that the omnivorous mega-fauna could grow up to four meters in length, rove hundreds of kilometres across red-sanded deserts in search of food and water, and had a kick that could snap a man in half. Infamously, they also liked to box one another for dominance. “See.” Gwen was pulling it out of her arse now, keeping her face as straight as can be. “To mimic the noble Kangaroo, we have a day of Duels. Hence, Boxing day…” Ken raised his hand. “Ma’am.” The man trembled. “I went to England for exchange. Boxing day is the non-religious holiday after Christmas originally for the common folk. The Box refers to the act of gift giving, typically in wrapped boxes…” An awkward silence descended upon the open office, as thick as the December snow. Gwen wondered if she could open a portal into the Quasi-Elemental Plane of the Void and crawl into oblivion. There was now only one way to prove her innocence. “Thank you, Ken.” She cranked her dragon-fear until the Essence was hammering at her eyeballs. “There is to be no worship of anything! No one is taking a break! We’re staying open until the 30th!”

Magus Maymaruya visited Gwen’s office with the necklace she had uncovered from the Water Ghost’s den. “An unusual curio.” The Magus presented the identified device. “The central Core distributes the creature’s mana to the lesser Cores, reducing the stress of operation.” “So, can a Mage use it?” Gwen asked the quintessential question. “Poorly - also, that’s the reason why I am here.” The Magus shifted in his seat. “This thing wasn’t made by a Water Ghost. They lack the means. The item was made by people - by us.” Gwen arched both brows. “May I suggest handing it to the relevant authorities, perhaps a Tower? Usually, Enchanters are very interested in those creating illicit Magical Items for the Demi-humans.” “That sounds like a plan,” Gwen heeded the Magus' advice, glancing at the necklace. “On the other hand, I wouldn’t overthink it.” Magus Maymaruya inclined his head. “Are you familiar with the work of the Grey Faction?” To the Enchanter’s surprise, Gwen knew. “Yes, well, boons like this could often be a means to unbalance the power structure of a Demi-human region. By giving items to one tribe or race, the Tower encourages competing tribes to war with old enemies for food, land, and other resources.” “I see.” Gwen realised the Magus was suggesting the Rogue Enchanter might be the working of the Tower itself, or least a Faction within the Tower. “Let's not stir the pot unnecessarily.” “Do not fret for the loss,” the Magus assured her. “The reward for such things are usually paid in CCs. About twenty to thirty would be my guess.” Gwen’s regarded the orbs. Currently, she had no shortage of CCs. Perhaps she could bolster Richard’s efforts? Call it an early Xmas gift. Surely her cousin would like that. For the next few days, Gwen managed her long-distance contacts. With Gunther, she delivered a full report on her current condition in Shanghai, everything from her Spell List to her economic exploits, illustrated via the Power-Point School of Illusion. Thoroughly impressed, Gunther asked if it was possible to apply some of the ideas to Australia, or at least Sydney. “Our population and production won’t cut it.” Gwen shook her head. “When I am back in a few years, I’ll go over what we can do - not to mention to induct NoMs into our workforce; there need to be significant changes to our basic economic infrastructure.” Not to mention, Gwen held her tongue for the time being. If Australia was anything like the land of her old world, there remained unfathomable volumes of resources waiting to be unearthed in the Wildlands. In her old world, by 2010s, the great Southern Land was the world's biggest producer of diamonds and opals, a bulk supplier of sapphire, ruby, emerald, garnet, topaz, and the single largest source of iron-ore in the world. Considering that precious stones formed in areas dense with elemental-crystals; she could only suppose that the same could be said of her current world. “And what of your allies in China?” “There’s nothing wrong with the methodology I am applying,” she explained. “Not accounting for avarice, nepotism, and inbuilt disregard for social good, of course. There’ll be tangible benefits for some time to come. But, as Master would say, all things conform to the natural rhythm of human greed. As for economics, it bubbles and bursts, ebbs and flows. If nothing else, I hope my friend Mayuree’s House of M will persevere.” “Merchants without nations,” Gunther mulled Gwen’s earlier words. “An interesting philosophy.” “Only in an interconnected world.” Gwen had already cut back on the vision her world had entertained since some five decades ago, but even so, Gunther had been sufficiently engrossed in her illustrated roadmap of Sydney’s future. “I’ll look forward to it,” Gunther inspirited his sister-in-craft's ambitions. “On our other topic, the Imperial Divination Agency has tracked Sobel’s cabal to the South of Kazakhstan, on the Demi-human Steppes.” That Elizabeth Sobel was alive came as no surprise to either Gwen or Gunther. A sorceress capable of hiding from the Tower’s best efforts for three decades would not lack the means to escape even the direst of catastrophes. When they had held an earlier conference regarding Sobel, Gunther pragmatically informed both Gwen and Alesia that the hunt for Sobel would be neither quick nor satisfactory, but a life-long pursuit involving dismantling her organisation, turning her backers and exposing Spectre’s sympathisers. Only then, finally starved of resources, support, mana and vitality, they would have her. For some reason, Gwen thought of Henry's story, where they had cornered Elizabeth in Hungary, in a place devoid of people. But even then, she had escaped, or was it merely her Master's sentimentality that had forbade them from pursuing further? “If you hear anything, or if you think someone’s after you, tell us immediately. Pudong will do its best to intervene.” “What about our Ravenport problem?” Gwen reminded Gunther of her drama with a member of the British House of Lords. “I’ve asked friends in the U.K to keep an eye him,” Gunther cautioned his sister-in-craft. “To be honest, the man has his hands full. Westminster’s paralysed from a pitched battle between the Conservative Tories and the socialist Labour Party. Magister Blair’s just declared that he'd resign before his fourth term, so the Priministership is up for grabs in three years...” Gunther paused when he realised his China-bound junior was politically illiterate. “… so don’t worry about Ravenport,” he concluded. “At least, not until you leave for your IIUC. Talk to me then.” Gwen cocked her head. "What do you mean? Am I going to be in London?" “I am not saying you will,” Gunther explained. “The U.K universities dominate the top ranks of the IIUC. Oxford, Cambridge and the London Imperial Sorcerous College are all seeded. Assuming you manage to beat out the Universities from your region, your team will progress to the top 20 round. Whether for the Quests or the Duels, its very likely the competition will take place on their home turf.” “WOA, I GET TO SEE ELVIA?!” Gwen blurted out, her mind suddenly flying to her golden companion. “In person? In Europe?!” “And Ravenport himself, I’d wager.” “But Elvia!” Gwen grinned foolishly. To think she'd be reunited with Elvia in just a year and all she had to do was plough through a few teams of elite Mages. "The chance of Ravenport taking action..." The Radiant Mage paused; he could see her attention was elsewhere. The girl was in a world of her own, but in a way, Gwen’s indifferent composure was the right thing. Until their path crossed, there was little they could do against Ravenport, now or in the future. Even in the instance of Gunther's Centralist Faction allies taking meaningful action against House Ravenport, it would be for political gain. Without significant rewards, no one in their right mind would move against a deeply rooted member of the Conservative Faction. “Don’t count your cockatrices yet,” he stifled the girl’s excitement. “Now, tell me again about this Dragon problem in Myăma…” Gwen tried to contact Elvia before Christmas came upon them, only to be informed by the Dorm Matron that the girls had left for Lady Astor’s country manor. Elvia did leave her a Message, however, wishing Gwen well and telling her she would be contacted when the opportunity arose. Dejected, Gwen returned to the slog. On Christmas Eve, she returned home to find Richard and Petra setting up dinner. "Richard! You're back!" “Petra told me about what happened at your work,” Richard remarked with amusement. “China’s not big on religion. You should know that. Also, what’s this thing about putting St. Nicholas in a big red coat? How is it possible that at your age, you confused Jesus Christ with the Patron Saint of Children?” Gwen groaned. Petra had already bemusedly explained to her that Pope Julius I had made the 25th of December a day to celebrate the birth of Christ. When she demanded if there was a Santa, Richard chimed in with the expert knowledge that it wasn’t pronounced Santa Claus, but ‘Sinter Klaas’, or Dutch for ‘Saint Nick,’ corrupted by English speakers when the Protestants frowned upon the worship of Saints. Either way, gift giving was not associated with Christ, but rather with Saint Nick. “Gwen went to a government school,” Richard explained to Petra. “They don’t have a religious curriculum there.” “Ah~, I went to private girls academy,” Petra informed her cousin. “The Boarding School for Girls of the Ministry of Defense of Russia, we had mandatory religious education using sanctioned scriptures.” “I’ve heard of your school.” Richard whistled. “The best girl’s academy in Moscow.” “Prince’s is not bad either,” Petra's lips curled sensuously. “Nothing of the sort!” Richard scoffed. “I was in a Frontier chapter, incomparable to the real thing in London. The very idea that at tier 5 Conjuration I was made House Praetor should give you an idea of how starved we were for talent.” Bah! Gwen rolled her eyes. Private school kids. My school was next to the fish markets! It stank, and we ate fish and chips three days out of the week. On the weekend, homeless people slept on our oval. Ultimately, it wasn’t as though China forbade the celebration of religious holidays. It was more so that its citizens, particularly the younger folk, were indoctrinated by the thought that devoting one’s life to an all-powerful being was antithetical to say, blind allegiance to Clan, House, Family, and the Mao Manifesto. It was no surprise, therefore, that her employees had been so alarmed. What she had done was no different to asking Coca-cola employees to engage in Pepsi Appreciation Day. The dinner that Petra and Richard had laid out reflected that austerity. Her Xmas celebration was bereft of any sign that the jolly fat man of commercialised gift-giving existed in this world. Nonetheless, fluted glasses clinked. “To us!” “To your jolly fat St Nicolas!” “Merry Christmas!” As agreed, the trio had forgone expensive gifts. Gwen bought for Richard a moderately priced quasi-magical cologne. While Richard had gotten her an Expatriates Guide to Living in China handbook; for Petra, Gwen brought French perfume, the closest thing she could find to Chanel No.5, while her cousin gave her a can of Huso-Huso caviar. “From the old country.” Petra tapped the quasi-magical tin. “The taste of home.” “Wait up.” Richard stopped her. “I thought the Beluga Sturgeon's gone from the Black Sea.” “This is incredibly precious!” Gwen pushed the can back toward Petra. “We said nothing expensive, remember?” “I had it since a long time ago,” Petra explained. “I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. I figured you could do with the vitality.” “The roe can be kept alive for a century,” Richard salivated. “It’s the ultimate decadent delicacy.” Gwen made a face. “I’ll hold onto it,” she informed her cousins. “Maybe one day, we’ll share it for a special occasion.” Richard had hoped they would eat it now, only to have his hopes dashed when Gwen packed it away. “Oh yeah, I got this thing from Yue!” Gwen changed the subject. She produced a gift-box which she had received the day prior but waited until now to open. Stripping away the protective shipping packaging, she unwrapped a box, then another box, then a colourful assortment of paper wrapping to reveal a hair ornament. “Oh wow.” She lifted the opal-coloured twig between her fingers, allowing the play of lights to shine through its semi-opaque interior. “I better call her back! It looks hella expensive!” Two invitations plus a hopeful Dai presented themselves in front of Gwen. ‘The House of M cordially invites Miss Gwen Song…’ ‘Wang Enterprises invites the esteemed Miss Song…’ “Gwen. Father wants to know if you can attend our New Years Dinner. Uncle Tu and Magister Chen are going to be there as well. I’ve invited Ruì, Ken and everyone else…” In a time like this, Gwen wished she knew the legendary Illusion ‘Simulacrum’. But in the end, she chose to accept the invitation from the Wangs, informing the others that she wished to spend time with her family, a universally acceptable alibi which absolved her of any accusations of favouritism or snobbery. “Thanks for the offer Dai,” Gwen apologised to the Fung Heir. “Can you explain my circumstances to your father for me? I haven’t seen Mina, Tao or my Aunty Nen in weeks.” “I will,” Dai was visibly disappointed by her choice. “We see each other three days a week, Dai,” Gwen joked. “Aren't you sick of me by now?” “How could I?” The young man grinned sheepishly. “We should see each other outside of work.” “Date a teenager? You wouldn’t!” “Oh... Hmm...” The Fung heir scanned his unrequited beloved from head to toe. Since their first meeting, Gwen had strung him by the nose with the air of an older woman. Through he was intellectually aware of Gwen’s age, Dai never gave much thought to the fact that they were five years apart. What kind of optics would taking a seventeen-year-old girl to a New Years party bring, especially one who was your boss and could kick your ass? “Have a happy New Year, Dai.” She gave him the gift she had prepared. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. It was just a simple thing, a jar of potpourri she had made herself, although the vase was imported Venetian glass and the ingredients both rare and enchanted to uplift the user’s mood and attentiveness. Before Dai could think of something profound to say, Gwen left to give the others their gifts. “A trifle,” Gwen laughed amiably as Ken Duan likewise received her standard-issue potpourri. But for the real heroes of her office suite, Gwen had prepared two gifts. “Ruì,” Gwen summoned her P.A. “Here, this is for New Years, and the bonus is for your hard work.” “Ma'am!” Ruì’s hands shook. On her table was a card and a box. The first was a currency card with 150 HDMs, a paltry sum for Gwen, but for Ruì, it was akin to three months of her salary. The second was a special-order item Gwen had commissioned from Magus Maymaruya - a small Storage Ring useable by NoMs. “Miss, I can’t!” Ruì’s hands shook. A Storage Ring was the mark of a Mage, only the servants of powerful families or the NoM attendants of prominent Secretaries were given customised Storage Rings. “Nonsense!” Gwen slipped the device onto her right ring finger. “If it weren’t for your dedication this month, Dai and Ken would have failed already, right guys?” “Absolutely!” Ken raised his hand. “Thank you, Miss Li!” “We’re in your debt,” Dai added dishearteningly. There's was no skirting the fact that if not for Ruì’s help; he wouldn’t have been able to spot the discrepancies in the accounts Gwen had given him. Gwen took the empty box and placed it in Ruì’s hand. The instructions were inside. Ruì left her seat, bowed deeply toward Gwen, then likewise toward her two co-workers. “Keep up the good work.” Gwen patted the woman on the shoulders. “I’ll be counting on you next year as well.” “Thank you for everything, Ma’am!” Ruì’s head remained low. As for Effi and Terence, Gwen gave them each a ‘thank you’ card and a Minor Ioun Stone of Clarity sourced from the House of M for having followed her gruelling regime, after weeks of training under herself and Ruì, both of Ma’s hand-picked acolytes were proving to be worth their weight in crystals. Finally, with the secular gift-giving completed, Gwen fared them well, wishing everyone a prosperous 2004. Dinner at the Wangs was the right choice to make. The gathering became an impromptu meeting of the young members of the House of Song. The location, as expected, was the Wang Group building just off Zhongshan Metro with the moniker of Dragon’s Dream, a massive complex with self-contained apartments, office blocks and a six-storey shopping mall choked to the brim with restaurants and shops. After delivering their greetings and performing bows, Gwen, Tao, Mina, Petra, Richard and Percy retreated to a private level of their own, to a shabu-shabu restaurant owned by the Wang Group. With alcohol freely flowing and a display of Wildland meats free for the taking, Gwen thoroughly enjoyed herself. “Sis, I want you to know I super appreciate our Nantong trip.” Percy raised a glass to toast. “Really gave me a confidence injection.” “Oh-ho?” Gwen slammed down a shot of Mao-tai. Tao was shouting, after all, the Patriarch shouldn’t mind a few hundred HDMs, she hoped. Percy’s face flushed with optimism. “After I got back, I tried out and got short-listed for the junior Duelling team! Once training starts in January, I’ll know if they’ll include me as a starting or backup member!” “How wonderful! Drink!” She sipped another mouthful of the vital liquid, feeling warm and fuzzy as the triple-distilled alcohol infused with her Essence. Beside her, Ariel was chewing on an enormous bone-nub she had fished from the hotpot soup, while below the table, Caliban ate up table scraps. Not far from her two Familiars, Lea the Undine likewise sat as though a member of her human party, although other than the mana-rich alcohol, she couldn’t consume anything else. "Did you have to duel many people?" “Hell yeah! You should have seen it, Sis, I kicked ass…” Inspired by a cup of Mao-tai, Percy related to her a slurred account of his participation in the school tryouts. At first, the boy was nervous and afraid, but after facing the Water Ghosts in Nantong, he realised there was nothing to fear from his fellow Mages, especially when sparring. As such, using his rudimentary Abjuration to create a defensive bulwark, Percy managed to defeat his first opponent by wearing them down, and then a second opponent by immobilising them with his salt shards. After that, the extended use of Salt exhausted him, and he had to request a pause to the duel. His performance, however, caught the eye of the Duelling team captain, a genius-level Mineral Abjurer with a Secondary-School in Transmutation called Kelvin Ma. “Captain Ma might even give you a run for your money, Sis,” Percy challenged his sister, his boyish face red with passionate worship. “He can duel our No.2 and No.3 at the same time! I’ve never seen someone as good at Melee Magic as Senior Ma, not even Lulan!” Gwen looked at her companions, who all shrugged. Richard didn’t know the local celebrities. Petra didn’t care. Tao wouldn’t know if he tried, and Mina wasn’t interested in kids. “That sounds wonderful,” Gwen assured her brother. “Maybe we’ll find out one day if Lulan’s better or this Ma of yours.” Of course, the alcohol-infused Percy continued to speak at a hundred words a minute, an endless torrent spewing forth without end. When the time was ripe, Gwen retrieved from her Ring a dark, obsidian box and passed it over toward Mina. “What’s this?” her cousin asked. “I need a favour,” Gwen leaned in conspiratorially. “Give this a whirl and see how you like it. Most importantly, see how your friends like seeing you using it.” Mina picked up the container. She recognised the embossed M from the House of M atop the scented and sealed package. It was thin, but also dense, about the weight of a book. The package opened with a suction sound. “!” Mina’s eyes widened as her name flashed across the card’s light-absorbing surface. “Gwen!” Her cousin whispered loudly, the sorghum amplifying her volume. “Is this the Orichalcum Card?! Daddy's been asking about this!” Tao's eyes glowed beside them. "Uncle Bao's already famous and influential, so I'd be infringing on his time and generosity," Gwen explained. "But, for you and I, we both have something to gain..." Friday, 2nd of January, Gwen returned to the office to find two of her staff absent. “What happened to Dai and Ken?” Gwen demanded from her P.A. “Ken’s recovering from drinking too much at Dai’s party,” Ruì informed her. “And Dai?” “Mr Fung has being detained by his father.” “Oh? For what reason?” “For logging a total of 3,350 HDMs on his expense account.” “Ouch,” Gwen winced. The total outgoing for the Office so far was 480 HDMs for the outfitting, courtesy of Patriarch Wang, and their total monthly wage, excluding Gwen, was 500 HDMs a month split between three NoM Secretaries, Dai and Ken. “Dai sure knows how to have a good time.” “It's not the amount," Ruì explained, snickering. Gwen was happy to see that she had grown comfortable talking about her Mage colleagues. "Mr Fung forgot to pay the balance before the year’s end as well, and has incurred a 17% interest on all purchases.” “…” Gwen exhaled. You can lead a Dai to water, but you can’t make him pay his credit card bill on time. January passed in a daze. With university yet to be in session, Gwen continued to refine her Spellcraft, sparring with her cousins, receiving visits from the occasional lecturer, and one time, had impromptu tea with Dean Luo and Ellen on the balcony of Fudan's Zibinyuan. Two events of note punctuated early January. One was that Gwen received a Message from her uncle Jun, stating that he would return to be with the family on Chinese New Years. Of course, Gwen ecstatically responded she'd be there, or be square. The second was her catch-up with Elvia. During their two-hour long conversation Gwen's erstwhile angelic companion gushed and cooed that upon receiving her provisional practice-licence, she would be assigned a Knight-Protector for Quests outside of London’s domain. Though Elvia was young and inexperienced, Lady Astor had earmarked the Spirit-Healer for great things. Gwen's response was one of ambivalence. The idea that some man was going to follow Elvia around the countryside, inches away from her dear Evee at all times, left a bad taste in her mouth. “Can a woman be a Knight-Protector?” Gwen insisted across the LRM Device. “The rank of a Knight-Protector is ‘Knight Brother’ of The Most Distinguished Order of St Michael and St George, so…” Gwen groaned in despair; even the title sounds cool as fuck. To offset her growing anxiety, she informed Elvia that potentially; there may be an early visit to England on the horizon, assuming the IIUC goes well. “Ooo! Gwennie!” Elvia squealed, her smiling face filling Gwen with happiness. “That’s amazing! I’ll ask Matron Maxwell and Lady Astor about the November IIUC as well. I am positive our school provides healers to the competing teams! Imagine if we could meet up!” “No need to imagine! I’ll be there!” Gwen ground her teeth with such determination that the impact jarred her jaw. She had never felt such motivation to run to the Training Hall and summon all her hounds at once. Her Evocation was edging close to tier 5, and Gwen was keen to pick up Bilby’s Hand and Cone of Cold before May. If by August she could make inroads into the mid-tier 5 Evocation, it was entirely possible to learn the most crucial spell of the Lightning Mage’s repertoire - the tier 6 Chain Lightning. Tier 6 Affinity Barbanginy Chain Lightining? As Peaches would say, you Mother-fuckers better watch out! "Wait for me, Evee!" Gwen gushed. "I shall not pause until I bestride the green hills of Avalon!" Curiously, work at the Office began to die down around mid-January. When Gwen consulted Richard's Expat Guide and her workers, they informed her that all work on Tonglv would be suspended between 17th of Jan to the end of the Golden Week on the 29th, with the labourers and the Mages gradually returning until the 5th of February which was the Lantern Festival. With book in hand, her orientation of Chinese holidays clicked into place. For her host nation, the real ‘end of year’ party was on the 22nd of Jan, the Lunar New Year of the Wood Monkey. Supposedly, according to Ruì, the whole calendar wasn’t so much as based on the lunar cycle but the year of the inauguration of the Yellow Emperor, marking 2004 as the 4702nd year of Han dominion. Chinese 'Fengshui' Divination, it seemed to Gwen, was entirely divorced from the Eurocentric variation of Augury sourced from the Greco-Hellenic Dynasties, far too cryptic for a westerner to understand. “This year is very auspicious for business, Ma'am,” Ruì explained to her bemused boss. “2004 is the beginning of metal-cycle, meaning an abundance of gold, precious stones and crystals. Therefore the financial business will boom. You are a Lightning Mage, correct? According to the Analects, it means you will get along with people who are related to Water and find conflict with those who are Wood. Also, when do you wish to close the office?” “What’s your opinion, Ruì?” “The 17th is a Saturday, Ma’am,” her P.A advised. “The problem with Golden Week is that manufacturing also takes the week off, meaning there’s a break in the supply chain. We won't be receiving reports starting from the 16th.” “Then 17th it is. No point in working when construction's halted.” “Agreed, Ma’am. I imagine all the migrant workers will be going back to their Districts to visit family and relatives. I'll probably request to travel to Canton to visit my family as well.” “Well then.” Gwen wondered what she’d be up to in the interim of the Golden Week. “Let’s set that down tentatively, and I’ll speak to the others.” January 21, 2004. Chinese New Years Eve. As was the tradition from Harbin, the Chinese Frontier west of Vladivostok, Klavdiya’s end of the year get-together involved the whole family gathered around an enormous table, jointly knitting hand-made dumplings. Gwen arrived early, looking a treat in her hybrid blue-silk cheongsam, the very first dress that her babulya had given her. She had taken extra care with her hair as well, piling her long strands into a thick swirly bun before striking Yue’s opalescent ornament through the middle, affecting a distinct oriental look that turned heads wherever she went. She spent the morning and noon speaking and listening to Guo and her babulya, teasing Percy whenever she got the chance. By the late afternoon, the rest of the family had arrived. Once the DIY dumpling banquet began, the youngsters were all pushed to one side, consisting of herself, Petra, Tao, Percy and Mina. Knowing that Kusu and Lulan would be spending their New Years alone, Gwen had invited the siblings as well, but Kusu insisted that he and Lulan would spend the Chinese new year together as a testament to their new independence. On the other side was Tao’s father, Bao Wang, his mother Nen, her father Hai and his wife Qīn, her Uncle Jun. Gwen had imagined Qīn's presence would have made everyone antsy as anything, but as it turned out, her family was out of shit to give. The reason being Ayxin came as well. Which, Gwen realised, explained why there were two CCP-Tower Magisters eating noodles in the courtyard, chewing the fat with Guo. Currently, her babulya was trying to teach the dragon-princess how to make jiaozi-dumplings. Draconic-dumplings. Initially, the dumplings had chive-and-pork or mushroom-chicken-bamboo as filling, but the Magisters who had arrived informed the Songs that it was an insult to the Dragon-princess to provide for her such mundane, mortal fare. When Guo bullishly asked his colleagues what the Dragon-kin had in mind, Ayxin outright murdered the old man by exploding his old heart. First, she tilted her head, then with the utmost respect one of her race could afford a mortal being, she presented to Gwen's grandparents a gold-foiled New Year's gift-box. “This is for the family, Father,” Ayxin announced, her voice the softness of gentle water. “It has properties that will improve yours and mother’s health.” Guo's face moved through multiple shades of colour at once. The 'F-word' ripping out his tongue and nailing it to the wall. Babulya blinked her big eyes innocently as Jun performed a double facepalm. Ayxin then opened the box. Were it not for the quick actions of babulya calming his nerves, Guo would have spat a mouth full of tea in Ayxin’s face. What was inside was a white-jade slab of perfectly preserved flesh, and what looked to Gwen like a Mandrake root. “This is the rump from one of Ryxi’s prized dragon-boars.” Just the vitality radiating from the damn thing was having Gwen salivate uncontrollably. She could eat the damn thing raw. “And this is for yourself, esteemed mother and father. It’s a Ginseng Spirit, millennia old, from my father’s herb garden.” The two Tower Magisters gazed at Guo, wondering if they had heard the word ‘Spirit’ wrong. That was when the ginseng root tried to make a break for it. “Pok!” Ayxin commanded in her draconic-tongue. Half the assembly froze. She picked up the mischievous ginseng root, then tore off one of its limbs. The ginseng let loose a silent scream, possessing no mouth to communicate its agony. Ayxin then materialised an urn of rice liqueur, then dumped the crushed limb into the amber liquid. “The Ginseng is best when drowned in this Song Dynasty rice wine.” Guo wanted to refuse, but the whole family, babulya included, was wiggling their brows at him. Stricken by the immense pressure of public scrutiny and peer-pressure, Guo relented to being bribed for the first time in his life. “Please accept it, Father,” Jun urged from the side. “I’ve already dissuaded her from bringing gifts that are too outrageous.” The two CCP Tower Magisters' eyes watered as Guo gave his thanks, wishing Ayxin well in the coming year. Millennia-Old ginseng with a developed sentience? Dragon-brewed rice wine? The flesh of a draconic-creature used to make dumplings? Was their old friend cultivating a path to immortality? “Magister Cho, Magister Xiang, if it too much to ask that you join us for New Year’s dumplings?” Guo requested of his two old compatriots, seeing their wistful faces. Cho and Xiang almost burst into tears. Guo was a true comrade, his socialist manifesto without question. Spending Golden Week away from their family guarding a Dragon Demi-God was already hard enough on their old bones. If they had to eat buckwheat noodles outside the door while their friend feasted on the food of the Gods, they would lose faith in Mao himself. “We’re going to need to mince that somehow…” Gwen’s babulya examined the slab of draconic-boar meat, moving in onto a chopping board. “Shall I ask if any of the barrack’s chefs know how to prepare magical ingredients?” “No need,” Ayxin glared at the slab harshly. There was a gentle breeze; then the meat fell apart into tiny diced cubes smaller than Gwen’s fingernails. “Now to season it.” Gwen’s babulya didn’t miss a single beat. A collection of Wildland grown garlic, shallots and generous serves of chives cleared her Storage Ring and into the mince. “Nen, start kneading out the dough. Qīn, Gwen, Petra, Mina... Ayxin. Start with egg and chive pockets while I ready the filling.” The women cleared some space around Axyin, though Gwen didn't care and sat right next to the Dragon-kin. After Nen cut the dough, they got to work. Ayxin picked up a piece of dough, feeling the texture of the soft and stretchy flour. How many centuries had it been since she ate dumplings? Her draconic-memory recalled a temple, or what looked like one to the young Ayxin, with her aunt and her sisters on their knees, head bowed, presenting a stone cold dumpling in a golden bowl after it had been tested for poison. "You hold the edge like this, and then you flip the corner, kneading with your index and thumbs..." Luckily, it didn’t take her long to learn. As a Dragon-kin with perfect control over her body, she was soon producing more dumplings than all the other girls put together. As for Gwen, she couldn't make a jiaozi if her life depended on it. All of her dumplings looked as though conjured from dark space, each one of her creations was a 'thousand young' spawned by Shub-jiaozi-Niggurath. Soon, the first dumplings arrived. When cooking, the Song family chef, an ex-army cook, almost kicked over the pot when the steam took on strange, draconic shapes. "Gānbēi!" "Gānbēi!" "Hao!" "Happy New Year!" "Prosperity and fortune!" Ayxin bit into a dumpling, her mouth filling with the fatty soup of juices from Ryxi’s painstakingly reared beast. It was delicious and nostalgic, so much so that she closed her eyes to savour the taste and texture. “Ergh! Sooooo good! The sou- ARRGH my dress!” Ayxin’s nostalgia was rudely interrupted by Jun’s niece and her indelicate, hyperbolic utterances. Were it not for Jun’s questionable paternal devotion to the girl, Ayxin would have cautioned Gwen with a power-word to teach her some manners. To have so little regard for her betters, especially in a sacred time like the change of one elemental cycle to the next, was blasphemy. Back in the Palace, every twelve-year cycle, Ayxin, Ryxi, Golos and their mightiest sibling, Ruxin, would present their gifts to Father. For the entirety of the ceremonious occasion, the siblings, as well as the Yinglong’s lesser subjects, would sit in silence, not daring to breathe or achoo, waiting on their Lord to conclude his meal. She looked toward Gwen, whose form she had once taken, and saw the girl shoving dumpling after dumpling into her maw. For some reason, Ayxin saw Golos' gluttonous face. For some reason, she felt homesick. That was when she noticed the pronged ornament sticking from Gwen's piled hair. The Dragon-kin's eyes narrowed, she focused her pupils for a closer inspection. There was something disturbingly familiar about the shape of it, the way its tapered end split into two elegant, coral-like extensions. Half-way through chewing a dumpling, the realisation hit her. “PufFFT!” A mouthful of boar-juice showered Jun, who was turning to ask what held her attention so intently. Ayxin's complexion glowed a vivid scarlet as her desired mate wiped tender bits of pork from his eyebrows. “Enjoying yourself?” the Ash Mage intoned carefully. “Your niece, Gwen…” Ayxin wanted to apologise, but Dragons don’t apologise or yield- especially not when faced with such an absurd sight. “She’s wearing…” “Oh?” Jun looked toward Gwen, who was now staring at them, holding back laughter at her uncle's ridiculous face. “She’s adorable tonight, isn’t she?” Ayxin wondered if she should explain, but looking at Gwen, she just felt so tired. “It’s nothing.” The Dragon-kin returned to her meal, though all her appetite was gone. “Here, let me clean that up for you.” Beside them, the 'adorable' niece burned with oppression as Ayxin took a priceless moon-moth silk hankerchief to her Uncle’s face. What a peculiar child. Ayxin pondered bemusedly. Why would anyone stick an enormous baculum inside their hair? Sometimes, there was no explaining what humans did in the name of fashion.

After what was surely her third plate of dumplings, Gwen was sure she could summon all seven of her hounds in the yet to be attempted Void variant. There was ample vitality in the meat, though the cooked flesh couldn't compare to her consumption of creatures via Caliban. The real culprit was the rice-wine ginseng combo. It travelled down her throat like liquid fire, mixing with the dumpling, diffusing through her mana channels. If possible, she would have liked to stow some of it as a sort of 'vitae-potion', though that would be both selfish and improper. Usually, after a meal, it was only Gwen whose skin glowed with youthful exuberance as her mixed physiology of essence and Void absorbed the mana in the ingredients. Now, the whole family looked as though they lost a few years. By Gwen's observance, her babulya visibly had fewer wrinkles, while Guo’s arched back appeared straighter, more robust. Seated nearby, her father and uncle Jun both looked more handsome and less worn by the passing of years. Qīn, still heavily pregnant, was positively glowing with life. As for Gwen's future sibling, there was no doubt he or she was going to arrive as hale as anything. For the younger girls, the effect of the life-extending ginseng wasn’t so notable, though when Gwen's attention turned to Tao, she couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Tao was the sort of guy who resembled an old man the moment they hit puberty. He slouched, he scowled, drank heavily, and he smoked like a foundry chimney. After a plate of dumplings, a cup of wine and two pieces of the ginseng, he gazed at the family with an unblemished baby-face. Nen squealed and hugged her baby boy, while Patriarch Wang, himself looking less weathered by overwork, burst into such hilarity that the entire table joined in, roaring with uncontrolled mirth. Unable to help herself, Gwen reached out and touched her cousin's plump face, ripe with collagen. His beard, which Tao had attempted to grow to no avail, was now soft, silky and fuzzy. "How's mah mug, dawg?" The rapper grinned at Gwen. "Handsome Peaches?" "More like adorable." Gwen squeezed his chin. "With a face like that, you should call yourself Young Peach. Tell me, does idol-rap exist? hahaha." "How about Peach Fuzz?" Tao rubbed his none-existent jawline. Unfortunately, Tao was a boy with his mother's face. "Don't yo think Fuzzy Peaches juz rolls off the tongue?" This time, it was Petra who choked on her dumpling. When Gwen found out that Jun was going to stay at the family compound for the next six days, she too resolved to stay. When Ayxin further informed them that she would be leaving for Huangshan to pay respects to her father and arrange her territory for future trading with Shanghai, nothing in the world could have pried Gwen from the Song compound. After gleefully faring Ayxin well the next day, she hung about her uncle, bothering him for every little detail. “Here are the crystals from Huangshan.” Gwen flashed her Ring. “I’ve only got four thousand in Currency Cards on me right now; there’s another five when we sell the rest.” “As I said, you keep it,” Jun insisted. “It’s not like Ayxin needs to pay for anything on her shopping sprees.” “Shopping sprees?” “Oh, she’s been going through the shops as though possessed.” Jun exhaled. “Dragons like to hoard. I think I know as much about women’s clothing as you do now.” “Oh-ho.” Gwen twirled. “Anything you would like to see me wear?” Jun chuckled drily, knowing better than to keep talking. “Ah, you’re no fun,” Gwen teased her laconic Uncle. “So, what have you been up to?” “Surprisingly, work.” Jun snorted. “What did you think we’re up to?” “Doing the horizontal tango?” Jun cocked his head, bemused by her accusation. “A Latin Dance?” “Or the spread-eagle fandango…” “I am afraid that I am not one for folk music,” Jun assured his niece that he and Ayxin had most certainly not engaged in the Cha-cha, vertical, upside-down or otherwise. “But that does give me an idea. There are some fantastic foreign bars in Pudong. Anything to keep away from more shopping, ha.” “…” Gwen sighed. It was no fun when the person you’re trying to tease was oblivious to innuendo. "Have you and Ayxin engaged in coitus?" "Ah~," Now it was Jun's turn to exhale with exasperation. "I'd rather not say." "Why?" Gwen grinned awkwardly. "Nothing's wrong. I am not one to judge someone for premarital sex." "You should, Gwen," Jun frowned. "You're seventeen!" "And you're... forty... something!" Gwen pouted, her hands resting against her hips. "I am not a little girl, trust me. Do I look like a clueless waif to you? I know more than you give me credit for!" Jun glanced at Gwen's hair ornament. Poor little fool, the Ashbringer averted his gaze, thinking of Ayxin's complaint. The girl put up a good front, but she was as innocent as a ewe. Gwen took Jun's aversion to infer her Uncle had been slaying his lady dragon day and night, only that the man was too modest to brag. Sure, Ayxin was a two-century-old cougar, but she looked anywhere between sweet-sixteen to twenty. Hell, she could take any form- Gwen mentally slapped herself. One shouldn't stare into the abyss for too long, for it gawks back. “Tell me about Pudong. What’s it like over the checkpoint?” She changed topics. “What do you want to know?” “Are there many Demi-humans?” “Sorry to disappoint, but no.” Jun smirked, far more comfortable with their new topic of conversation. “Nothing like the rumours anyway. The Demi-human guests allowed into Pudong are Government workers, typically expatriates here to establish diplomatic ties. Unlike Europe, China is a very homogenous country, consisting almost entirely of human beings.” “Are there Elves and Dwarves?” “A few,” Jun affirmed her limited knowledge. “The Tower has established trade routes with the higher Demi-humans. Of course, if Ayxin can keep her part of our new trade deal, the Dragon-kin may yet become Shanghai’s largest inter-species trading partner.” “What are we bartering?” Gwen hoped it wasn’t organs, thinking of the Grey Faction and its run-in with Alesia, and knowing how much regard China had for its citizens. “Crystals, precious metals, gems and food,” Jun educated his niece with great patience. “In return, we get tea, Wildland beasts, herbs, and other useful things infused with draconic-essence. The dāndào's Dānshi are in a tizzy, last I heard.” “Pill Path?” Having never heard of the title, Gwen's Ioun Stone struggled to find an equivalent lexicon. “Makers of medicinal Pills & Elixirs,” Jun translated for her. “They make alchemical concoctions with Chinese medicine. The production rate can’t compare to western potions, but the effects of the rarer recipes fall somewhere between low-tier Elven meta-Elixirs and higher-tier pharmaceuticals. Take the Yunnan White-Root Powder for example - a fingernail-sized pinch is enough to close any external body wound, staunch bleeding, and ensure bare-minimal scarring.” “Wow, why aren’t we stocking em by the ton?” A powder capable of substituting for a potion injector would surely sell very well. Jun gave her a wry smile. “The recipe calls for hundred-year-old ginseng and the ground chitin of Calcite Crickets living in the Alu Caverns that hunt down prey to ingest their bone marrow. The lesser Bone Eaters lack potency, so Adventurers have to hunt down the Elder variety, typically tier 8, living in family communes of a dozen or more…” “Ah.” Gwen shuddered at the thought of two-meter skeletal crickets chewing through human bones. All those little mouth-claws! Terrifying! “Oh, speaking of which.” Jun slapped his forehead. “Here, I saved this for you.” Her uncle produced a small packet just a bit larger than his hand. “Yearling tea from Fur-peak. Ayxin gave it to me, but I am not a tea drinker…” Gwen held the tea packet. It was such a simple gift, thoughtless even. But it was enough to have her chest welling like a balloon, bursting with gratitude. “Do Babulya and Grandfather have a share?” Jun nodded. Phew, Gwen breathed out, feeling equally relieved and disappointed. “Thanks, Uncle Jun,” she leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. Jun gave her a broad smile. “Well, since we’re here and taking a break.” The Ashbringer stood, stretching his limbs. “I'll give you a reward if you can push me to Shield Break.” "Ho ho ho." She cackled. "Hold on to your pants!" Gwen’s anticipated week-long celebration of eating, shopping and training with her Uncle was abruptly cut short the day before the Shangyuan Festival, when Guo asked if she was coming with them to Hubei. Earlier, the Patriarch of the Song estate had found his son and granddaughter tearing Percy's training hall apart, forcing him to forbid sparring with spells that would overpower the meagre protection offered by the hall's antiquated Force Barriers. Thanks to Richard's guidebook, Gwen knew about Qingming. The ritual of ‘grave-sweeping’ was held on the 15th day after the Spring Equinox, requiring the male members of a House to return to the place of their ancestral origins to sweep the graves of their ancestors. As a girl and a Gweilo, there was no expectation that Gwen would attend, though Guo offered to ‘introduce her to the ghosts of the Song ancestors’. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Though not wishing to be rude, the very idea that she would be kneeling before tombstones while her grandfather spoke to the air about the ‘great prosperity’ of finding a granddaughter on the Frontier had her shivering all over, and so she politely declined. When Gwen asked if the NoMs held such festivities, Guo replied that first, they had to have a glyphed and sealed Ancestral Tomb. After the outbreak of Undead up north, NoM citizens by law had to cremate their dead. Combined with the fact that the CCP had banned the practice of burying the dead out in the Wildlands, NoM citizens no longer practised grave-sweeping, at least not as the Houses or Clans would know it. Naturally, Percy had to attend, presumably his father as well. As for Hai, Gwen had spoken to her father a few times during their stay in the Song compound, though, in all honesty, there was little common ground between them. After all that had happened, amiable dinners would suffice. That Hai was happy with his new wife, waiting for his child to be born, was the best she could manage. When Golden Week drew to an end, she gave each one of her family members a tight hug, then readied herself for the new semester. With the beginning of the Spring Semester, life returned to Fudan. The snow had eased mid-January, and by early February, the skeletal mulberry trees were bristling with jade and emerald foliage. Gwen's favourite restaurants reopened as well; their owners welcomed back the familiar face of the Worm Handler and her Mongolian Death Worm, both spectacles to behold for diners fortunate enough to grace their presence. After consultation with her peers, her Instructors, the Dean, and anticipating her future needs, she decided on the following courses for her Semester: Conjuration CJR2001 Translocation CJT2007 Bestiary and Care of Spirits FAM3021 Evocation EVK2002 Advanced Spell-shaping ASP2201 Utility Divination DIV2003 Management GEN200M Economics GEN200E Conjuration 2001 and Translocation were both taught by the resident Senior Lecturer, Louis Birch. Second-year Conjuration continued the existing theory, moving into higher-level algorithms and incantations necessary for spells tier 6 and beyond. Translocation was a class taken by Combat Mages wishing to use Short-Range Teleportation as a primary mode of combat. The practical course took students through complex obstacles, as well as instructed the neophytes in various operational tricks of the trade. Juxtaposed against Portage specialisations, Translocation focused on individual mobility and combat adaptation. Having enjoyed herself so immensely with Instructor Chen in his rudimentary Bestiary class, Gwen opted to join his advanced supplementary course, known simply as Care of Spirits. It was a rare and exclusive course offered only to students with Spirit-Familiars, focusing on teaching Spirits combat doctrines, as well as fostering independent action. Evocation 2002 under Magus Young, like Conjuration 1002, focused on spell-theory and complex incantations used to boost affinity for Evocation, allowing casters to reach higher tiers of their craft. Advanced Spell-Shaping was likewise a 'step up' on the same course under Michio Lee, moving away from the general history of Spellcraft into experimental theorems necessary for the creation of original spells. According to the course guide, the final goal for the course was for students to create an original chant of their own to submit to the Tower as a part of a semester-long dissertation. Furthermore, the course included a short excursion to Pudong, further serving as a primary motivation for her choice of Lee's course. Finally, Gwen’s choice of Divination Utility focused on three primary objectives. First, learning to employ Detect Magic with greater proficiency; second, to bring her Divination affinity to at least 2; third, to learn Arcane Sight, Track Ally and Link Sight. Arcane Sight serves the invaluable function of detecting camouflaged or invisible creatures. It was useful in uncovering Illusions up to one tier above the invoker’s mastery, meaning Gwen could identify competitors using the tier 2 Invisibility, albeit the tier 4 Great Invisibility would be beyond her ken. Track Ally was an immensely useful form of Locate Person which did not require the user to be a blood-line Diviner. Once cast, Gwen left a mark on a willing creature, allowing her to find and if need be, Teleport to their location. The spell was useful in that it worked through walls both mundane and magical, meaning Gwen could track members of her party precisely for up to a kilometre even in a Dungeon, or know their general direction so long as the spell remained on her target. Finally, Link Sight was the real boon Gwen sought. That she now possessed a flying Familiar opened her world to a Creature Mage staple - using one’s Familiar as an extension of one's senses. Via Link Sight, Gwen could see through Ariel’s eyes, gaining topographic mastery of an area when outdoors and lacking a Diviner, or send Ariel to scout out dangerous regions such as an indoor Dungeon or outdoor lair. Should danger present itself, she could unsummon her Familiar in a split-second. Furthermore, for Gwen, Ariel's channelling ability plus her Link Sight would make an incredible combination. Assuming she had range, all kind of combo gimmicks involving Dimension Door, AoEs and so on could be attempted. Lastly, her two Gen-Ed courses were 'cake-walks' whose only purpose was to boost her Weighted Average Mark. Confident that she would almost certainly get near-perfect marks from Professor Ma with minimal fuss, it freed her up to work at her office, while still receiving credit for her coursework. After re-adjusting her schedule with Ruì, she returned to the campus mid-February, once again ready to dive into the world of academia. “Make way!” Gwen was finding out just how troublesome it was to accompany the ‘Flower of Fudan’ through a roaring campus. The first week of the Semester was Orientation Week, meaning the clubs were out in force trying to recruit the new starry-eyed Mages entering the university. As usual, the Duelling Club had set up a huge pavilion with portable Walls of Force, working spell in hand with the Eatery Club and the Hidden Cuisine Cabal, combining the affinity of action and delicacies. Together, the trio dominated the competition year after year, taking up the entire main lawn between Guahua and Hengbuo Avenues. Tempted by the street food, Gwen had inched forward stall by stall until she was smack-bang in the midst of the busiest section of the festival. As she had Petra in tow, the folks around the Duelling Arena had mistakenly thought the girls wanted to gawk at the duelists. “Make way for the Flowers of Fudan!” someone joked, yelling at the first-year newcomers. Gwen recoiled. Petra’s souring expression likewise inferred they ought to leave, though nothing short of a Dimension Door or Flight would manage a return path, and both were forbidden on campus. Also, she had ambivalent feelings about any nicknames to do with flowers. For a while now, she had resigned herself to the cringe-worthy innuendo gifted by Caliban. A two meter long phallic faceless ophidian as pet warranted an equally cheeky title, but 'flower'? The implications were horrid. Was she waiting to be picked, or were they telling her she should be making the most of her youth before it wilted? While showering one night, she'd thought about why Petra had acquired such a title and realised it was because her cousin refused to date and had an aversion to commitment, making her a desirable 'flower' without an 'owner'. The crowd parted. On stage, two Mages duelled, flashing blasts of fire and something indistinct. When a bolt of the foreign substance cascaded against the Force Barrier, Gwen recognised it as Dust. A Dust Mage?! Here? The Fire Evoker-Transmuter had a similar style to Alesia, using powerful short-range bursts combined with a transmuted body of flames, but the overwhelming volume of Dust particles filling the chamber suppressed the Evoker's furious discharge. Even with her improved kinetic-vision, the dust-clad Mage was well-Shielded. From his silhouette, however, she knew the caster to be a stranger. Outside of her twin-elements, Dust was perhaps her most researched Quasi-Elemental Plane. After all, assuming Ravenport had other members of his household coming after her, the eventuality of beating down other Dust Mages was high. Where Ash and Void were the most volatile and consumptive of Quasi-Elements, Dust was more akin to Salt in that it consisted primarily of Elemental Earth. Furthermore, despite its reputation as an element of destruction and death, Dust could be readily found in the natural world; present in the aftermath of decomposition and decay. In short, where there were living things, there would inevitably be motes of Dust woven into the refuse. “Do you know Sir Tei?” One of the Mages, noting her dismay, stopped to ask her a question. From the look of his uniform, the man was a Senior at the Duelling Club, likely one of the event organisers. “No, I was just looking.” Gwen tried to step back into the crowd, but the gap they’d opened earlier was now thick with juniors desiring a gander. If there was one thing she’d learned about crowds in China, it was that people loved crowding and hated lines. It made many a night's grocery shopping an unenviable chore. “Pats, we’re leaving.” Gwen turned from the makeshift arena. She had no time for duels; not when there was food to be eaten. Earlier, she had seen a stall selling glazed pineapple buns. “Sir Tei is a candidate recently returned from the IIUC,” the speaker continued. “He’s tier 6 in his specialised Abjuration School.” Gwen paused, her retreat faltering in the wake of curiosity. An IIUC candidate? She had no idea who most candidates for the IIUC selection may be other than Kitty, herself, Richard and possibly Lulan, though she had been told to look out should she encounter second and third-year veterans. “Tell me more,” she urged the club member, who obliged with red-faced gusto. “Sir Tei comes from the Northern Clans near Shandong. Do you know of the Tei Family of Taishang? They are the guardians of the Mount since ancient times. It’s a place famous for birthing scholars! Confucius, Mozi, Zenzi, even the Sage of the Three Kingdoms, Zhuge Kongming!” Holy shit, Gwen knew jack-shit about Chinese history, but even she had heard of these renown figures of mythoi, each instrumental in creating entire epochs and legends of Chinese history. One place gave birth to all these geniuses? What the hell did they put in the water over there? Above the girls, the battle had already ended. The Force Barriers retracted. The challenger bowed deeply before removing himself from the scene. Looking up, Gwen realised the victor was coming toward them. Tei Bai, A.K.A 'Tombstone Tei' appeared shorter outside of combat than he’d seemed when wrapped in flames and dust. Stepping over the edge of the arena, he received the good cheer of his juniors before turning to the two girls whose pilgrimage through the food stalls had deposited them in front of the stage. Though he had not intended to accost the girls, that they stood half a head taller, possessed the visage of flowers, and had cleared a ring of space made the pair too conspicuous to ignore. When his eyes fell upon the dual-element sorceress, a faint smile touched Tei's lips. Of course, he recognised the Gweilo girls. One was the Flower of Fudan, while the other was her Worm Handling companion. For Tei Bai, his interest in the Worm sorceress stemmed from the rumour that Gwen had bested Wonsoo Li in single-combat in Hangzhou. Of course, he didn't mind her victory, just the opposite, in fact, because his role in the IIUC was the position of the Abjurer. Her Mastery was to Bai a boon, assuming the rumour she was aiming for the IIUC was correct. “Miss Song!” he called out, taking the girl’s unwavering gaze for interest. “Care for a duel?” Down below, Gwen's curiosity was in sync with Bai. To improve her craft, she had squared off against her uncle, her friends and her companions. Against Richard, each bout was an agonising affair. If she directly used Barbanginy, she could blow through both Familiar and Water Mage. Without the support of her catalysed lightning, however, she struggled to land a hit. Against both of her elements, Richard’s unrivalled manipulation of water was a hard counter. Paralleled against her role as a Creature Mage and a Conjurer, Richard's Undine-enhanced affinity blew her tier 6 out of the water. When she tried to close in, she despaired that Richard’ Dimension Door, though lacking an AoE burst on impact, was faster than her Lightning-teleports. Only by using both Ariel and Caliban could she hope to trap Richard and wear him down, though a single misstep meant she fell into a bubble of water. Lulan provided a similar challenge, though the girl’s melee was as terrible a match up against Gwen as she was against Richard. Interestingly, Lulan had a far easier time against Richard, blowing through Lea and Richard’s Abjuration, while against Gwen’s reactive Lightning Shield and Void barriers, Lulu's sword magic suffered. The only other personage nearing her practice of Stagecraft was Kitty, who she’d sparred twice via aerial duels, each time with ambivalent results. Without Ariel acting as a mobile flying turret, utilising its friend-foe abilities, Gwen had no means of landing a hit at the flighty Wind-Mage. On the other hand, Gwen’s non-Newtonian hard-Shield might as well be the Great Wall of China to Kitty’s Air and Ice offensive magic, especially if Gwen rapidly Teleported to avoid her slow-inducing AoEs. What she wanted was to fight higher-tier Mages like her uncle, but such a thing was unlikely to happen. As an unexpected insight, she was beginning to realise why Duels at the higher tier of magic fell from favour. When a single spell was capable of filling half the arena with AoEs, all finesse fell away, leaving only the brutal arithmetic of power and defence. Likewise, the methodology of self-preservation also increased exponentially. In the future, should she face off against Gunther’s foretold foes such as Spectre Enforcers or goons serving Ravenport, killing or maiming a Magus-tier opponent was possible only if both sides were willing to fight until the bitter end. Likewise, should she, Gunther and Alesia pursue Sobel, how many days, mayhap weeks, would it take before finally, haggard and exhausted, they forced the woman to assume a final stand? Gwen looked toward Petra for instruction. Her cousin's response was that if Gwen had to do it, she better do it quick. “Sure.” She clambered onto the dais, thinking that she could use the digestion. “Please go easy on me, Senior.” Tei Bai extended a hand to help her up, just as Gwen stretched a white leg over the ledge, the crowd erupted into wolf-whistles and cheers. Alarmed, she smoothed down the hem of her dress. When the weather had turned warm, she had gone back to the most comfortable clothing she owned - silk sundresses. Unfortunately, her blushing modesty seemed to have incensed the crowd further. Some of the first-years were positively howling with glee, their eyes bloodshot with a cocktail of battle lust, as well as regular old desire. The Dust Mage stood to one side. “Apologies, Miss Song.” Tei inclined his head. "I was careless." “No need.” Gwen looked down at her opponent with a sickly sweet smile, her expression causing his follicles to stand to rigid attention. In her wedge sandals, she was much taller in person, almost a head taller. Hopefully, by the time she was done, no one would think of her as a flower ever again.

“As I am the Senior, you may have first-strike,” Tei Bai offered, recognising the mistake of asking his junior to duel while she wore casual clothing. At their tier of magic, it wasn’t uncommon for wayward spells to result in minor wardrobe malfunctions. His Dust element, furthermore, had a habit of destroying delicate fabrics. “I would defend myself very carefully, if I was you, Miss Song. First to Shield-Break?” “Ha! Your confidence is going to be your downfall,” Gwen snubbed her senior's warning. To her audience, her haughtiness felt natural and certain, especially when considering her reputation. “I am going to open with a finisher if you're not careful.” “I look forward to it.” Bai's response was sombre. “You're a... confident young woman, Miss Song.” Gwen returned her senior's retort by arching her neck gracefully, then inclining her chin ever so slightly. The audience cooed. There was nothing like a good bout of shit-talking a before a match. That way, when a contestant inevitably ate their teeth, they'd also have to spoon down a mouthful of their own words. The two parted. The Adjudicator, a senior club member, began the countdown. “Three…” “Two…” “One…” “Begin!” "..." "..." The crowd held its breath, but it would appear neither contestant desired to make the first move. Bai had waited for Gwen to act, while Gwen waited to see what Bai would do and if her Senior was arrogant enough to gift her the first-strike. “If you insist.” Gwen hoped her opponent was as competent as he proclaimed himself to be. Focusing her mind, she leisurely erected her non-Newtonian Shield, then began to chant her hound-summoning invocation. “That Shield!” The Dust Abjurer's expression turned serious the moment her double-glazed dome came into existence. “That’s the Morning Star’s Signature Shield! How is it that you know it?” Gwen smirked. To recognise her brother-in-craft's Shield, this Tei Bai was a Mage of culture. In the next moment, without missing a single syllable, she completed the summoning mandala, having attained a moderate mastery over a month's practice. “Hmmph!” Bai grunted, his skin crawling as the flood of Conjuration mana issuing from his opponent tickled his scalp, dispelling his sense of ease. He recalled his father's warning that with overconfidence, one might tip one's skiff even in a gutter. “Pillars of Taishan!” Four columns of dust swirled into existence around the Dust Mage, each three meters tall, vaguely inscribed with scripture and rough-hewn images. “Ten-Thousand Stones!” Above Gwen, a blizzard of Dust-speckled stones began to rain down on her non-Newtonian Shield, blighting the dome with a choking haze of free-falling particles. The unimpressive impact informed Gwen that the spell wasn't one for lethality but rather, served to limit her movement. Is he trying to bury me? Gwen watched her double-glazed Shield turn white from the blows, the interior of her Shield grew dark as Dust blanketed her transparent pane like dirty snow, draining the static from her Lightning-tinged barrier. “Solidify!” With a muffled cry from her opponent, the motes of dust instantly grew compact, encrusting Gwen within a vault of shale. Tombstone Tei indeed! Gwen was beginning to see where the man had gotten his moniker. The fact that the Dust Mage had used a defensive spell as an offensive entrapment was impressive. She could feel the weight of the stones crushing inward. Not only that, the sorcerous snare grew heavier by the minute. Were it not for her absurdly large VMI; she should be immediately entertaining teleporting away before her Shield collapsed or she ran out of mana for a counter-offensive. But for now, she was safe. With her summoning mandala completed, she allowed her opportunistic Conjuration to manifest. “Hound Pack!” Six deerhounds emerged beside her. It was a tight squeeze inside her barrier. “Alright everyone, gather around.” Her dogs stood to attention, attuned to their master’s mana signature. She gave an order for the dogs to fan out and encircle the Dust Mage as soon as they relocated. It was time to put to practice one of her new tricks of the trade. “Dimension Door!” Her mana pool dropped by almost a quarter. When she had last studied with Instructor Chen, she lamented having to re-summon her dogs whenever she had to cross water or venture across terrain that could only be managed by flying or teleportation. As a result of her high-affinity, her hounds were more elemental than flesh and blood, resulting in a propensity to dissipate when submerged bodies of water. "With your VMI, why not use Dimension Door?" her Instructor had queried. How so? She had enquired, Dimension Door was limited to one additional person, was it not? “Not exactly.” To demonstrate, Chen blew her mind by teleporting with all nine of his dogs at once, though the Senior Conjurer was well-haggard when he appeared fifty metres away across the underground training hall. “Your elemental beings possess the same signature as your magic, meaning they are less prone to Astral-distortion. The reason we don’t transport more than one 'passenger' via Dimension Door is two-fold. One, because of excessive mana usage, which increases exponentially, and two, because spatial tears become inevitable when carrying a being with their Astral signature. As magical creations of your own making, conjured creatures cost less mana to move. In fact, the higher your affinity, the less prone they are to sudden-death-upon-materialisation.” Serendipitously, Instructor Chen's advise furthermore provided an unexpected boon. When Gwen appeared beside Bai’s pillar, it wasn’t a single electric nova that erupted, but six mini-novas plus Gwen’s own. Her dogs' Astral-hop likewise triggered the after-effect of her Master’s Signature Dimension Door. The miraculous Easter Egg was a pleasant discovery. But simultaneously, Gwen had grown melancholic, wondering just how many Signature Spells her Master had in store for her had Henry not perished so suddenly. The resultant blast, momentarily igniting the air with blue-white plasma, was enough to collapse one of Bai’s pillars, making Gwen realise the young man’s unique Abjuration spell must be a means to absorb damage. Muttering incantations under his breath, her opponent withdrew the magic he had used to entomb her. Her senior opened his mouth to make a remark but was cut off by the swiftness of her recovery. “Caliban!” “Oooh! IT'S HERE!” “THE WORM!” “DEATH WORM!” An enormous clamour broke out, far louder than when Gwen had too immodestly ascended the stage. The passion was of such fervency that she began to doubt her ears. Her obsidian worm with a lamprey's mouth was more popular than she was? Why? Had her Familiar snuck off to perform acts of philanthropy? Did it rescue pale-faced dames in the dead of night, or pluck kittens and puppies from the river while she slept? Sensing its immense popularity, Caliban opened its carapace and reared to its full height. “SHAAAAA!” “Awoooo!” “Arrroooowwooo!” “AwwwwoooooooO” Her hounds joined the howl. Bai surveyed the pack of dire-sized lightning-hounds fulminating hysterically with blue-white plasma, in the midst of which was his opponent's Death Worm. “You're right, I shouldn’t have let you finish that spell…” the Dust Mage confessed, immensely impressed by her display. “Don't say I didn't warn you!” Gwen smirked smugly, doing her best to ignoring the calls from the crowd to have her Worm swallow Bai wholesale. “I'd advise caution, Miss Song. Be careful now.” Bai gave her a heads up before activating his supplementary spell. “I have no wish to shame or harm a future teammate - Dust Tendrils!” The remaining three pillars burst into activity as columns of semi-opaque tentacles split from the solidified dust, seeking to entangle her deerhounds. Instantly, her body grew rigid. What good humour the duel had afforded became instantly quashed by the stifling sight of prehensile tendrils reaching out to ensnare her hounds, and mayhap herself. The intensity of the sight was such that, for a second, she forgot to breathe. “Caliban!” Gwen commanded her Familiar. Her tone changed. Gone was the come hither character of teasing and taunting. There was a coldness in her voice now, one unbecoming in a friendly duel. Her Familiar grew into its Gila form, flooding the space of the duelling arena with its Void-aura, sending those standing too close reeling back with nausea. One girl who’d been busy filming Caliban with a Lumen-recorder straight away lost her orientation, slamming her head on the transparent pane before been rescued by the club’s security members. Heeding their Master's mental cue, her dogs attacked. Snapping and snarling at the tendrils, forcing their way through. “Dust Bolt!” Caliban opened its maw and took Bai’s low-tier offensive right in its open maw, not even slowing down as it pushed forward. The improbable sight brought a second round of jubilation from the crowd. “Lightning Storm!” Gwen threw down her newest AoE, flooding the duelling arena with motes of lightning. Her Evocation synergised well with her elemental dogs, empowering them while Ariel, even tucked in its pocket-space, ensured that Gwen's Lightning strikes fizzed before they reached Caliban, neutralising the Dust-motes surrounding them. “Tomb Wall!” Bai's Signature Abjuration possessed an unpropitious title, though those who knew the Tei Clan history also know that they were tasked with guarding the rumoured tomb of Mozi, arguably one of the most beloved scholar-sages of the One Hundred Sects Era. As for Clan Tei itself, the stewards of Mozi's teachings walked the Path of Universal Ai, claiming that one must possess empathy for all beings under heaven. A semi-dome barrier-Shield erected itself in front of Bai, its dust-clad surface dulling her elemental assault even as it repelled her hounds. Inscriptions, likely from the teaching of ancient Sage-Kings, ran the length of its surface. Caliban slammed into the outer shell, though the impact seemed to jar her Familiar more so than the Dust Mage. Fucking turtle! Gwen swore under her breath. She hated fighting Abjurers for this precise reason. "Caliban, Onslaught!" This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Her vitality dropped, but she wasn’t finished yet. She had to rid the bad taste of those tendrils from her mouth. For reasons she could likely guess at, each blast of magic against the Shield was therapeutic. “Wall of Lighting!” Another layer of lashing electricity joined the first. “Lightning Tendrils!” Arm-thick band of lightning, half-a-dozen of them, began to beat the tomb-shell like a drum. By now, her dogs had exhausted a second pillar. Freed from the harassment of the grasping tendrils, they turned their attention to clawing and nipping at remaining two, wrangling the tendrils and keeping them from Caliban. Caliban meanwhile, tore chunks of shale-like material from the Shield, making steady progress through the dust-igloo, its void-clad claws removing more material than Bai could replenish. “SHAAA!” Caliban screeched. What irked her was that, with Detect Magic deadened by the Dust-barrier, she had no idea what Bai was doing inside his shell-Shield. At the same time, her Divination Sigil remained as silent as Bai's proverbial tomb. Still, sensing that she needed to end this before Bai encircled his wagons with even more Abjuration and Enchantment, she portioned just enough vitality to Caliban to began his terrible work. "SHAAA!" Her Familiar's jaws distended, opening it impossibly wide, it attempted to swallow the entire two-meter semi-sphere Bai had erected, transforming itself into a grotesque, bloated, mega-mouth croaker. The crowd went wild. Gwen hoped that Bai would give up before he accidentally disappeared into the Void. How the fuck was she going to explain that to the authorities? It was a game of chicken! Caliban was only supposed to nibble the tip? She could forfeit as well, arguably a viable option, confessing that the Bai's barrier was beyond her ability to penetrate. But why should SHE be the one to yield? If anything, the ball was in the turtle Mage's court. “Yield if you want to live!” She shouted with the aid of her Illusion Sigil, hoping her words could penetrate the Tomb-Shield. “Caliban's not going to hold back; it doesn’t know how!” If the man responded, she couldn’t hear it. Between her thunderbolts, her dogs and Caliban, they may as well be playing Chinese Whispers inside in a tin-shed pelted by hail. Then Bai's answer came. “Castigate!” A powerful repulsion emitted from within Bai's Shield. Like peeling skin from a bulbous grape, Caliban bloated, then burst. A flood of Void-mana splattered against the Force Barrier. As one, the audience retreated. “Cali!” Gwen spluttered. She had seen Caliban banished, but she had never seen it defeated so utterly and with such devastation. Caliban attempted to recollect itself. The demand for vitality from her splattered fiend was immense! It was as though Caliban was trying to reconstitute its entire body from scratch, asking for no less than a Horror Stag’s worth of her life-force. But its demand was impossible. Gwen wasn’t going to give up all of her collated vitality just so she could win a casual duel, not when she still had other trump cards to play. “Caliban, get back!” She unsummoned her piecemeal worm, returning it to recuperate in her Pocket Dimension. “Lightning Bolt!” Bai’s Shield was positively crackling with energy now, so much that the Dust motes could hardly be seen underneath the plasma. Still, the dust barrier remained. A sinking feeling began to engender in her chest. This turtle Mage! She snarled. He was making a mockery of her offence! “Hounds! Attack!” While her dogs harassed the Dust Shield, invigorated by the static motes of electrified air, Gwen decided to inaugurate a dog-move of her own. Arguably, she had the Dust Mage pinned with her hounds. If so, she could afford the precious ten-odd seconds she needed for Cloud Kill, ensuring nowhere was safe for the Abjurer to emerge from his shell. “Purify!” A halo of hallowing energy burst from the Dust Shield’s surroundings, hitting her deerhounds with a disruptive resonance that dispersed the Conjuration algorithms holding them in place. The feedback from having six dogs dispelled at once sent Gwen reeling on her heels, staggering backwards. She had experienced having Caliban banished several times now, but never six of her mind-linked dogs simultaneously. Perhaps more distressingly, her Cloud Kill fizzled, sending a surge of unspent mana back into her Astral Body. Comparatively, the Abjurer may as well have shoved a tube of wasabi up her nose. “Twelve Peaks of Taishan!” Though the spell was impressive sounding, Bai could only conjure six of the twelve potential pillars, each representing the resting place of a Scholar Bureaucrat the Clan of Tei defended at the end of the Spring-Autumn period. If the Dust Mage's father were to manifest the barrier, one could even read inscribed poems detailing the deeds of the great Sage-Bureaucrats who had chosen Taishang as their resting place. By the time Gwen circulated enough Almudj’s Essence to recover from her mind-blank, six pillars had fallen into place. From each pole, spectral tendrils reached out for her limbs. The very sight sent shivers up her spine, dredging up unpleasant memories. Drawing upon the anger of having her Familiars destroyed and dispelled, she pushed past the paranoia of being molested once again by a Dust-wielder. She was no longer the weak waif, she was a dragon! “Dimension Door!” “Eight Pillar Formation!” Gwen reappeared on the opposite side of the arena, though by then Bai had relocated his pillars equal-distantly throughout the modest-sized space, just a bit larger than a tennis court. She couldn't help but grimly lament the irony that she had sought to trap the man within her AOE only a moment prior, and now she was fast stuck within Bai's battlefield. “Gwen Song!” Bai called out, opening his Shield. “Call it a draw?” For some reason, the word ‘Draw’ struck her like a slap to the face. The Dust Mage's face was well worn and fatigued. With her limited Divination, she could sense that his Astral presence was weaker than before, indicating her competitor was short on mana. Though Dust muted elemental energy, it took a toll to dissolved her lightning. Gwen's eyes burned, her throat constricted. “Draw? Not on your life!” A sound more akin to a growl emitted from her throat as unbridled Dragon-fear fanned out from her Astral Body. Outside, safe behind the Force-Barrier, the observers saw a tangible ripple undulating the motes of dust filling the arena. Those closest to the rink felt a sudden weakness, forcing them to their knees. For those unfortunate enough to both be struck by Caliban’s demise as well as Gwen’s dragon-fear, their eyes rolled back in their heads, their consciousness retracting into their minds in a reflexive act of self-preservation. “Gwen, no!” Petra called out from below; her cousin was senselessly caught up! She wasn’t herself. “Bai! Gwen’s not in her right mind! Don’t hurt her!” “Petra, shut it!” Her cousin snarled, eyes blazing with viridescent vitality. “Ariel!” “Gwen! STOP!” Ariel materialised amidst an emerald blaze of vivifying lightning. A hush fell over the crowd. A Kirin? A Mao-blessed Kirin?! The stag horns! The noble mien! The whiskers! The fish-scale fur! The front hooves and the lion’s rump! Ariel swished its tail regally. “OOOOH, LORD ARIEL!” “LORD KIRIN!” “ARIEL FOR PRESIDENT!” A cacophony of cries, jubilant beyond belief, erupted across the assembly. “THE KIRIN OF FUDAN!” High on the stage, Gwen was oblivious that the cat was out of the bag. She circulated her Almudj's Essence, readying her death-blow. If the turtle-Mage could survive her most potent offence, she was happy to bow down and admit her inferiority. Then, to her complete and utter surprise, Bai dispelled his Shield-cum-barrier entirely. “I think that’s enough, Miss Song.” The Dust Mage back away, opening his hands to signal the duel's end. “Good Fight.” “No!” Gwen snarled, sending Ariel drifting downwards, crackling with Lightning. “It’s not over.” “It is.” Bai glanced at Petra, then back at Gwen. “We’ll duel again when you’re in better control of yourself.” “Bullshit! I-“ Bai dispelled his Pillars. He now faced her with nothing but his fleshy frame, in front of Ariel’s capabilities, the man may as well be stark naked. The audience below applauded Tei's great mental fortitude. True to form, Mozi's teachings had not escaped the descendants of Clan Tei. The temperament and unshakable calmness possessed by its members were known to all. “You-!” Gwen faltered before she could finish her ridicule. There was something warm dribbling on to her face and a taste of iron in her mouth. Reflexively, she touched a hand to her nose, only to realise she was bleeding profusely from both nostrils. “Gwen!” Petra leapt onto the stage but became rebuffed by the Force Barrier. To the Mineral Mage's dismay, Bai's professional demeanour ensured that until Gwen dispelled her Kirin, he was going to keep the barrier up to protect the audience. “Is she alright?” someone asked worriedly. “She’s bleeding all over the place.” “Feedback?” “Looks like a spell-overcharge to me.” “Poor girl,” a senior remarked. “Doesn’t she know Abjurers make the worst possible match-up for Creature Mages?” “She probably thought she was testing Senior Tei.” Someone else, a Duelling Club senior, laughed out loud. “When in reality, it was Senior Tei who’s testing her!” "I liked her better when she was giving us a show, haha." Up on stage, half her face covered in blood, the words from the audience dug into Gwen's paper-thin skin like stilettoes. She now knew she had read the situation wrong from start to finish. She had underestimated her senior. If so, why didn't she yield? The eyes of the crowd bore into her tender flesh. Her flesh grew scarlet with embarrassment, more so than the blood dribbling down her dress, covering her hands. The duel wasn't over yet. “Dimension Door!” The spell was on her lips before she even realised it consciously. In one leap, she had broken the university's cardinal rules, disappearing from the barrier and reappearing two hundred odd meters away atop a grassy knoll. “Dimension Door!” “Dimension Door!” In her present condition, three was her limit. She reappeared on the lawn opposite the Dean’s office, a place that forbad transit, picnics and passage, kept forever lush by nature-magic. FUCK! She fell to her knees onto the lawn. SHIT! What the hell had she just done? The best thing she ought to do now was calm the fuck down, run the hell back, and apologise to Tei Bai, to Petra, and everyone who had to bear witness to her poor sportsmanship. “Eeee?!” The call came from her mind. Ariel was appeasing the crowd by letting them inspect its noble visage. Petra was with her Familiar, and Tei Bai was there too. Thank God, Gwen exhaled. She owed them big time. Now, why the hell did she go and do all that for? Was the milk bad? Neither she nor Petra paid much attention to these things. Was it her Lightning? Or her draconic-Essence from Almudj? Had her proficiency risen to such a point that she was no longer in control of her impulses? She touched a hand to Ayxin's scale, toying with the idea of tearing it from the base of her neck. “Ding!’ 'Ding!' Her Message Device rang. The first was the Dean. The second was Petra. “Sir?” Gwe knew she had to make a choice. “Gwen...” the Dean’s voice was ice. Gwen had never heard the Dean so pissed off. “My office, now! AND GET OFF MY LAWN!” Ellen stayed away from Gwen as she sheepishly slinked into the office. “Do you believe yourself untouchable, Miss Song?” The Dean scowled at her, his usually pleasant face was creased with disappointment. “No Sir!” Gwen replied. She fucked up, she was in trouble, and there was no denying her culpability. “I know you’re young and you think yourself a prodigy, but do you believe rules don’t apply to personages such as yourself? That kind of slippery slope makes for a dangerous frame of mind! Mages who don’t think the rules apply to them become a menace to our society!” “I am sorry!” Gwen flinched. She lowered her eyes coyly. “Don’t try that with me!” the Dean snapped. “I have two daughters and an Ellen! You think they don’t try to make moon-eyes at me to get out of trouble?” Gwen straightened her spine. Yes, that was a stupid move. She was in an educator’s office, not her supervisor’s suite at her old consultancy. This arrogance was unbecoming of her. She needed time to work the dragon-juice out of her system, let the static drain from her body. “Hmmph! The first Dimension Door merits a warning.” Gwen exhaled with immense relief. “The second, temporary deferment.” She tensed. “The third… academic suspension.” Her eyes widened, then her lips quivered. That’s not how infractions worked, was it? Wasn’t it each instance, and not each ‘spell’ cast? It was her first incident! She should be receiving a warning! But, Gwen knew better than to interrupt the Dean. “Well?” the Dean barked. “GET OUT!” Taking a chance, Gwen stood rock still, taking on the guise of a new statue newly added to the Dean’s office. “Bah!” The Dean delayed his response a few good seconds before mocking her obvious attempt at playing his sympathy. “Clever girl. You think you know everything, don't you?” Gwen wondered if squeezing out a few tears would exacerbate or relieve her circumstances. Within her mind’s eye, Ariel inferred presently that it was being patted by students all lined up in a row. From what she could make out via her Familiar's Empathic-Link, Petra was with Bai, who had made the duelling platform into a petting station. Even now, amidst cries of ‘Lord Kirin!’ Ariel’s prideful energy fed back into her Astral Body. The very thought of thousands of strangers touching Ariel’s soft frog-pads and running their fingers through its fluffy tail set her teeth on edge; the annoyance was akin having a bone-deep itch she couldn’t scratch. “… I am that boring, am I?” the Dean demanded dangerously. Luo could scarcely believe the girl was staring into the middle distance in the middle of his lecture. The lass was truly lawless! He had been too easy on her, given her too much leeway! Gwen’s eyes refocused. Dean Luo looked as though he could choke a Gwen or two and still had anger to spare. FUCK A DUCK, was the first thought that came to her mind. She had drifted off! It was true what Murphy said, whatever was the worst that could happen was almost always bound to happen; the furtherer one was up shit-creek, the more likely their skiff was to overturn. “I am not going to suspend our 'best hope' at passing for the Asian Sector qualifier of the IIUC,” the Dean continued annoyedly. “But though you have averted death, a punishment is both merited and will do you good.” “Sir!” Gwen lowered her head. “I’ll accept any punishment.” “You are to scrub every bathroom in the university…” “…” Gwen baulked at the thought. Despite her best efforts, she glared at the Dean. “Your sincerity astounds me, Miss Song,” the Dean sighed. Bloody Lightning Mages, he lamented. Why can't she be an easy going Mud Mage? “I’ll do it.” Gwen immediately thought of her Cleansing Spell-cube. Let’s say there are two hundred bathrooms, that’s only 200 LDMs. That’s not so bad. “I am joking.” The Dean shook his head dejectedly. “I don’t think you realise the damage you've done. I said it’s up to your discretion if you wish to demonstrate your abilities before the IIUC, but what you’ve attempted with Mr Tei was near-exposing your whole hand! If Bai hasn’t made the right call, the whole university would have seen your best attack!” “But everyone saw what happened in Hangzhou,” Gwen remarked sulkily. “A Frontier town, in private company!" Luo shouted in her face. "Fudan is an international university! Do you want everyone from Oceania to England to know your trump card? What if every other team includes an Abjurer like Mr Tei? What will you do?” Gwen lowered her head, taking the tongue lashing in stride. She would have appeared entirely humble were it not for the fact that Ariel's mind-link was tickling her skin. “I am sorry, Sir. Truly,” she apologised. “I am sorry I disappointed you.” “Your punishment will be aiding Tei. In the tradition of Mao’s teachings. In all honesty, I want to send you away for re-education, temper that pride of yours, but we have no more time to waste. In addition, I want a 5,000-word self-critical report on my desk by next week. Now go and apologise to your peers.” “Yessir.” Gwen readily agreed. She had lived long enough to realise that self-awareness and criticism wasn’t an easy pearl of wisdom to come by. There were benefits to knocking oneself down a peg, for the alternative was inevitable hubris. Icarus may have gotten close to the sun, but hitting the sea at terminal velocity would've been no different from slamming into concrete.

Gwen returned to the duelling arena, on foot this time, cowed and bowed in apology. By now, a line around the block had formed, waiting to greet a legendary Kirin for good luck. A few kind words were exchanged, then Gwen was told to sit down and not to obstruct the audience's view. Finding a seat by the side, all Gwen could do was endure the sensation of been tickled inside out as Ariel anointed people with its tentacle whiskers and allowed the cohort to touch its hoof-frog. The favourable treatment of Ariel wasn't by chance. The proximity of the Lantern Festival made the Kirin's presence all the more auspicious. After an hour, Petra took a leave, thus leaving Gwen and Tei Bai to sit by the arena while the line grew ever longer. With her face flushed and her white legs crossed over as she sat on the pull-out bench, Gwen looked a treat beside the sombre-looking Tei, wearing grey on charcoal on white, looking like a junior funeral director. “In your opinion, Senior Tei, what are good match-ups for me?” Gwen asked the veteran IIUC contestant. They had been passing olive branches for the last sixty minutes, and now the topic had fallen to one of common interest. “Someone with your skill set would be fantastic as a counter-aggressor," the Abjurer-Enchanter stated with great sagacity. "If I were the team Captain, I’d get you to butt-heads with their offensive casters. With your firepower, I wouldn’t be surprised if you could suppress two of the opposing team’s casters, bonus if you can pull in their controller.” “What if they banish my Familiars?” Gwen inquired with a hint of cattiness. “Ha!” Bai laughed. “I’d have Caliban and Ariel protected with Abjurations against spells that disrupt their morphic-form. Of course, I’d have to go and learn those spells, but they’re not difficult.” “I’d love that.” Gwen pondered the stratagem. "Can I apply said Abjurations to my Familiars?" "Of course, but it's a reactive skill with passive components. It's either that or your offence." "Ah." Gwen drummed her fingers against her thighs. The first-world problem of a sorceress of many Schools was that she had only one head. “Other than that, your affinity offers longevity in combat. From what I can see, you have mana to spare, so I’d say you’re a boon in protracted battles. As a spear-point offence, you should be front and centre, overpowering the enemy's offensive casters, suppressing their formation so that our controllers can separate their Abjurers.” For some time, the two had been conversing about the informal ‘roles’ within the IIUC competition. Though flexible, Bai had informed his junior that the general makeup of a Ten-man team consisted of four core functions. Four members for Offence. Two members for Defence. Two members for Control. Two members for Utility. Members selected for offence usually involved Mages with high damage potential, chosen for their mana affinity, damage output, AoE potential, and the possession of a Spirit. “Which means you’re perfect in that regard,” the Dust Mage argued. “I’ve never met another student with as much damage output as you. If we had someone with both Void and Lightning when we went up against Tokyo U…” "Ha, I promise to please." Gwen blushed, more so because she was halfway squirming via Ariel, but also because of the confidence boost after the Dean’s righteous-rebuke of her arrogance. According to Gwen's Senior, the two members for defence needed to possess the ability to Shield and weather massive damage for the team. Senior Tei played the role of the stationary Abjurer, whose speciality was defending a particular zone or location. The second Abjurer was responsible for mobile-defence, such as when the teams needed to be always on the move. “An Abjurer-Conjurer with high affinity and high mobility would be best. Or an Abjurer-Transmuter.” Of course, Gwen was an Abjurer-Conjurer as well, though she had never practised Shielding others. According to Richard, a superior Abjurer-Conjurer, the most important thing was to anticipate the enemy’s attacks and to Shield your allies only when the precise moment arrives. As an example, Richard could Shield and deflect monsters incoming at Lulan mid-leap so that the girl could preserve the tremendous momentum of her strikes, catching her targets in a moment of weakness. “As for Control, we’re looking at Mages capable of creating snares, barriers, traps, wards, or even Translocation specialists, assuming an open-map,” Bai explained. “Enchanters, Transmuters, Conjurers, Illusionists, it's an open position for filling holes left by Offence and Defence-” "Ah~," Gwen stifled a moan. “Eee!” Ariel sang out. “Eee! Eee!” “STOP FEEDING MY FAMILIAR!” Gwen shouted across the arena. Beside her, Bai fumbled for a moment, though as with one gifted in the talent of Dust, his passion diminished as quickly as it came. By now, Ariel was visibly more substantial. Being students from an elite university, sparing an HDM or two wasn’t an obstacle for Ariel’s starry-eyed worshippers. Combined with the fact that her Familiar was a glutton, Ariel had gauged crystalline treats by the hundreds. As it were, its last admirer had dropped a raw chunk of unprocessed high-density crystal. “Sorry, please continue,” Gwen apologised, circulating her essence. Maybe that's the problem; she wondered self-critically. Meditating with Almudj's blessing had been the panacea to all her problems. Sleep deprivation? Hunger? Illness? Too much alcohol? Period cramps? Thirsty? Head Ache? Bloating? Every discomfort can be solved with primordial Draconic-essence. “Uh…yes, well…” Bai gave himself a moment to tear his eyes away. For some reason, the girl positively glowed. “So, the final two members are typically Enchanters, Buff-specialists, Quasi-healers, Diviners, and so on.” “Why not a full-time healer?” “Positive-Energy Mages are too specialised,” Bai explained. “The idea is to avoid healing altogether. As for medical treatment, there are usually healers from the host-nation on stand by, from associated universities. For example, Fudan has an allotment of healers from the Renai Teaching Hospital.” Gwen immediately thought of Elvia. “Only after we arrive on location are the Quests revealed to the contestants. Usually, there are two teams going head to head, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be more. The IIUC attempts different tournament formats every year to ensure students don't game the system.” “Can you give me an example?” Bai gave the question some thought. “I’ll do my best.” Gwen gave her thanks. “As a speciality of the IIUC, the location generally determines the type of Quest and competition. To use an overseas example, Fudan has only ever made it out of Asia once, in 1996. Our students were sent to the South Korean peninsula to join the Front there against the northern incursion.” “Undead?” “What else? Against the Undead, the IIUC appropriated an open-cooperative Quest. Examiners awarded points based on how well the students worked with each other, with other teams, and with the local Militia. Further points were granted based on the number of undead eradicated, General-Class creatures destroyed, and so on.” “Were the students in danger?” “Absolutely,” Bai affirmed her fears. “Not everyone made it back. I heard that our team lost three of its members and had to withdraw from the competition. Bit off more than they can chew, snake trying to swallow the elephant, or so the Arbitrators said.” Gwen tried to imagine what such a situation would entail. Was it like running smack-bang into a Sea Priest and her cohort of General-class warriors? “As for recent years, the inter-Asian stage of the competition is far less dangerous. Generally, it's best to think of the competition as a Dungeon Crawl or a mock Quest. This year, for instance, we lost against Tokyo U and Seoul N.U, we managed to match points against Tsinghua, but they weren’t fully committed.” “What was the exam format?” “Competitive Dungeon Clear,” Bai transcribed the details. “A little like Hengsha, you know Hengsha Island?” “I was there this year,” Gwen informed her Senior. “Oh?” Bai blinked. “Ha, I was there two years ago. How wonderful. Anyway, our match against the internal-division took place in Tibet, near Mount Kailash. Teams fought to reach the nest of the Kailash Ice Roc, with one of its eggs as the objective.” That's terrible! Gwen furrowed her brows; to poach the egg of a sapient creature for a competition? Why not just plant a fucking flag or something. “Tsinghua U managed to nab the egg in the end. We were busy fending off Harpies and other avians while one of their Clanners snuck up there and accomplished the objective. When he came down the mount, the bastard brought the Roc with him. Chased all five teams the entire way down to Lhasa!” “I imagine that took a lot out of you.” “I wasn’t in the party,” Bai grunted. “Questing parties are five strong, chosen by the team leader to tackle a Quest. The rest of the members are on back up. I was doing community service in Lhasa when the Roc started pounding on the Shield, screeching and skirting the dome while feathers the size of cars rained down into the city.” “So anyway. That was a Quest going well." "That went well?!" "Ha!" Bai shrugged. "In Tokyo, it was Fudan and Peking against Kyoto U and Toyko U. Maybe the Japs were looking down on us, or maybe they didn’t want to expend the effort. The competition was a mock-contest over territory over two valleys. An hour in, their Shikigami ripped through our formation. By the time we're done, they had twice the points we had.” “In Seoul, we fared a bit better, though the result speaks for itself. The teams were each assigned an area to 'pacify'. We managed to purge the local Shui-Guai, that’s water-demon, without problems, but…” “But?” “We later heard that the local team from Seoul U chased their monsters into our area…” “… They can do that?” “They got more points than we did, so I can only assume yes.” Gwen made a face. “That's the long and short of it.” Bai shook his head. “Ancient history now. Anyway, you're helping us out? I almost had a heart attack when you Dimension Doored out of here.” “Sorry,” the prideful sorceress apologised again. Of course, the person she was most sorry toward was her cousin, whom she’d snapped at without reason and with the temperance of a fool drunk on power. “Don't mind it.” Bai checked his watch in a way that made it very clear he was late. “I am sorry to say that the display is supposed to have closed an hour ago. We got lessons to go to...” Gwen looked at the line of growing worshippers. Her heart sank. Just how many times did she have to apologise in one day? “Hold it… Head forward,” Petra commanded. “Now sneeze!” “ERGH! YUCK!” Gwen watched the blood clots drain down the sink. When it came to bleeding noses, she was the type to swallow, fearful of it leaking over her clothes. As a result, returning to the apartment in the evening, she could feel something stuck in her oesophagus and behind her nose. “Looks like when you charge yourself up with Draconic-Lightning, you have to discharge before it overtaxes your vitals. There's only so much a mortal body can handle.” Petra noted with concern. “God, I was so worried when you started spraying blood all over the arena.” The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” “It was spectacular,” Petra assured her. "Positively spurting. If this were Eastern Europe, you would have drawn every Vampyre in a hundred-kilometre radius." Gwen groaned. “Next time, I’ll just shoot it into the sky. The university bans flying for a reason, right?” “You’ll hit the ceiling,” Petra pointed out. “Also… next time?” “Goddamn it.” Gwen wiped her face. “What do I do, Pats?” “No idea…but…” Petra patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll ask Master.” “Er…” Gwen hesitated. “Let me ask around first. Magister Wen's barred from studying my Draconic-essence.” “Oh right.” Her Cousin blinked. “I wonder who could help us?” "Ayxin?" "Is that wise?" The scale on her neck thrummed gently, almost maternal in its regulation of her energies. Was it helping her or making it worse? Somehow, Gwen doubted the Dragon-kin would give her an honest answer. On Friday, Professor Ma paid her a visit after class. “So, what do you say?” James Ma sat opposite Gwen in her office. “Full credit - full marks, assuming you take the job.” Ma's offer made perfect sense. Attendance was compulsory, but the second-year management and economic courses hardly titillated her existing knowledge. Ma had initially come to ask Gwen questions about auditing roles like the Project Manager, Program Management Officer and the procedure involved in replacing operators found guilty. Gwen’s response was to implement more frequent accounting via Gatekeeper auditors as well as independent advisors focusing on Risk Analysis. After a dozen organisation flow-charts, the topic of conversation then turned to the scant time both Gwen and Ma had left for their university courses. In a stroke of inspiration, the Professor offered Gwen the position of Teaching Assistant. Gwen touched an ink-less pen to her lips, one of the many quasi-magical conveniences she had come to relish. “Can I look through the course work first?” “Of course.” Ma materialised for her the Instructor's outline of Management GEN200M and Economics GEN200E. Second-year Management focused on Project Management, something Gwen knew well: in the past, she had dealt with long-term projects dozens of times. Ma's course taught Mages to delegate and assign tasks via a pyramidal hierarchy with themselves at its apex. In Gwen’s learned eyes, the primitive system was itself the primary cause for incompetence and corruption. In a region like China, rarely do the most skilled or respected leaders rise to the fore. Instead, social climbers wielded the most influence. It was particularly interesting to Gwen how despite Dear Leader Mao's ability to beat back the Clans, the Houses and the Scholar-Bureaucrats, the hierarchal structure of the CCP and the Districts it used to house its NoM population was closer to Imperial-Feudalism. In reality, cities like Beijing and Shanghai sat like the Kings of old in the era of North and South Dynasties, a 'Peking' and 'Nanking', lording over its satellite regions like fat spiders perched on their web. Economics, on the other hand, dealt with shallow systems of accounting and auditing, following by supplementary occupations in developing a command-system. The fact that the theory sanctioned by the party advocated a socialist economic model almost made her laugh out loud, especially when one of her lecture notes called for the elimination of class distinction by reducing the exploitation of the NoM masses by the capitalist NoM Oligarchs. In her eyes, most of the theory fell into purposeless prose, arguing that ultimately, everyone was equal, but Mages were more equal than NoMs. “Are you serious?” Gwen pointed to the ‘objective’ section of the text. "Did the Clans compose this drivel?" Ma shrugged. “As educators, we ward our students against the temptations of capitalism.” Despite her best efforts, Gwen snorted. There was no point arguing that Marxism was terrible, only that like More's ‘Utopia’ of nowhere, the unreachable Buddhist nirvana, or the Daoist notion of piercing the heavens; it was an ideal, not practical in the least. Despite generations of indoctrination that communism served the needs of the proletariat, a simple gander at the disparity of prosperity between Shanghai and its surrounding regions demonstrated the precarious instability of repressive regimes whose arcane bureaucrats who thought themselves above the NoMs. “You can’t seriously believe that, Sir,” Gwen retorted reflexively before realising she’d acted out of turn. Whenever the topic of economics came up, she grew forgetful that Ma was a senior member of the CCP and her mentor, not her colleague. “Don’t let anyone else hear you say that,” Ma warned her. “Practicals are one thing, our ideal mustn’t falter.” The two glanced guiltily at Ruì sweating gently despite the glyph-cooled air. In all likelihood, the others had heard as well. Though Gwen understood this world wasn’t yet the type where MSS goons were dragging journalists into the dead of night, she nonetheless shivered. “Yessir,” Gwen apologised loudly. "We will do our best to improves the lives of all present, NoMs and Mages equally.” Somewhere from the other end of the office, Ken cleared his throat, trying to stifle a snicker. The expressions on Gwen’s NoM employees, however, remained solemn and stoic. Saturday, Club Induction Day. “I feel guilty that you’re feeling guilty…” Tei Bai, accompanied by a mob of his juniors and Seniors, commented. “Isn’t this false advertising?” “I’ll come and help out now and then,” Gwen promised the Duelling Club veteran. “If anything, I’d like more info on the IIUC, as well as spar with you.” “Then you’ll join the club?” “Officially? Of course. I won’t have time for competitions, though,” Gwen forewarned her senior. At the very least, not before she'd resolved her 'issues'. “No problems.” Bai glanced at his moon-eyed juniors. “So long as you lend us our new mascot now and then, hahaha.” The two turned to look at the new display the Duelling club had set up first thing Monday morning. Next to the Fudan Duelling Club’s old logo was a new one. In the middle was the Qin Era pictogram for Fudan written in Chinese. Besides the old banner was a projection of Gwen, her striking face beautiful beyond measure, her lips parted as she pointed a finger toward the audience. As her eyes fluttered, a voiced Illusion proclaimed, “WE WANT YOU for the FUDAN DUELLING CLUB.” Across and to the left of the visage of her face was an Illusion of Ariel in all its draconic-glory with the caption: “NEW members will receive a chance to meet the blessed Kirin of Fudan, [Air]” The pictogram character for ‘Air’, like Fudan’s logo, had been converted to the two-millennia-year-old script from the Qin Dynasty, painting Ariel with an atmosphere of authentic antiquity. “Eeee?!” Ariel flirted with its visage, purring and rubbing itself against the enchanted projector. “Ariel will be in your care.” Gwen bowed. “I’ll be over to help after my classes. I am afraid Tuesday and Thursday are all I can manage.” “That’s plenty.” Tei Bai inclined his head slightly, though his juniors made a full-bodied show of respect. “As I said, if there’s anything you want to know, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll also ask a few of the other old-timers if they're willing to talk to you. Many of the IIUC alumni originally hail from the F.D.C.” “Thanks, Senior Tei.” Gwen retreated, waving at her peers. “I'll retrieve them at 16:00.” “EEe!” “I’ll only be half a campus away,” Gwen told her Kirin. She then turned to her restored Mongolian Death Worm. “Be a good boy now, look after Ariel, and listen to Senior Tei!” "Shaaa!" By the weekend, the rumorous wind had blown Gwen's friends together to 'cheer her up'. Petra came home to an unexpectedly too-full house, already entertaining Tao and Mina, who’d initially wanted to eat out with Gwen. There was Lulan as well, who came to mooch dinner, and Kusu, who had come to apologise for his sister's shamelessness. There was Richard, who came to see what was up, as well as Mayuree, who joined them later. Finally, there was Dai, who'd shown up wondering if he could show Gwen his good side. When the living room grew too stifling, Mayuree offered to take them up. "It's no bother!" the girl told everyone. "Gwen's like a sister to me! Treat the place like your own!" Upstairs, an annoyed Marong and a peevish Kitty welcomed the unwelcome guests. The two had previously been enjoying a quiet evening. Marong was meditating in a cloud of smoke, while Kitty trained by keeping the Smoke Mage contained to his ochre-walled room. Emerging from the pantry, Lei immediately propelled into action, mixing drinks and heating dim-sims with an efficiency only she could manage. Once they settled in, the badgering began. Gwen was teased within a millimetre of her paper-thin skin, though the chastisement was carried out in good faith. Sensing her friend's growing embarrassment, Mayuree intervened, enacting the very purpose she had visited Gwen in the first place. “Here.” The Diviner did not attempt to hide a prideful countenance as she slipped an item over the table toward Gwen. “I had a feeling you’re going to run into even more trouble from now on, so I had these prioritised.” “Care to clarify?” “Ha!” Mayuree chuckled, then more seriously, she said 'No'. Recognising the stupidity of her question, Gwen instead opened the first box. “Your hands are full, so I had those re-made as a pair of earrings.” Mayuree pointed to the sparkling pair of stones. “They’re glamoured as well. From the outside, they should be entirely discrete.” “Is that…” Petra took a closer gander. The crowd leaned in as well. “A Mind Ward Amulet?” “Earrings,” Mayuree corrected Gwen's cousin. “The left is for Mind Lock and Resist Glamour; the right is for Resist Illusion.” “They're beautiful.” Mina's eyes sparkled, touching a finger to her choker. “Mine’s Resist-Glam and Resist-Illusion. These don't come cheap!” “Of course not, but the House of M is generous.” Mayuree smiled smugly, noting Dai's discerning expression and Mina's half-parted lips. Of course, she was grateful toward Mina and Dai as well, hence the invitation to her abode. Thanks to their showy spendthrift, all of their friends and their friends had signed up to the House of M’s new credit-programs, hoping to one day receive the mysterious invitation to join the Orichalcum Cabal. “A little too generous,” Dai grunted, his face full of misgivings. “Gwen, that's an expensive gift. Are you sure it doesn't come with a price to match?” Mayuree fluttered her eyes at Gwen. Gwen blinked back at her friend, indicating there was nothing between them. Mayuree tittered. “It's the other way around, Dai,” Gwen assured her questioning employee-cum-admirer. “Not to mention I provided the ingredients myself.” Dai folded his arms; he looked up to see Marong standing beside Kitty. Disinterestedly, the man blew a smoke-ring at Dai. Who's that? A bodyguard? The Fung heir felt a wave of annoyance. “And this…” Mayuree slid over the second item. “Is your other special order.” She opened the box. There, sitting inside folded velvet, was an amulet that phased out of sight whenever one looked away. “Is that a Foglet Core?” Petra recognised the rare ingredient immediately. “You’re joking! A Ghosting Amulet?!” “Is it expensive?” Lulan asked. "Of course it's expensive," Kusu cautioned his sister. Having an understanding of these situations, he made sure he was standing behind Lulan when Mayuree gave a modest, undervalued estimate. “Umm… about 22,000 thereabouts?” TWO-TWO-ZERO-ZERO-ZERO? How many crystals was that? Lulan cocked her head. Despite her woeful monetary skills, Lulan attempted to surmise the five digit number that had escaped from Mayuree’s rich-bitch lips. The weekly rent for her and Kusu’s apartment was 90 HDMs for a B13 suite at 40 square meters with one bathroom, kitchen and bedroom. The suite itself was just under 10,000 HDMs to purchase. Did this mean Gwen wore two studio apartments around her neck? Lulan's head throbbed. Kusu caught his sister just as her body turned rigid, then slowly grew limp. ‘It’s glamoured for ease,” Mayuree added quickly. “No one will know you’re wearing it. It’s a contingency item, after all.” Dai's brows grew solemn. Was Gwen obscenely wealthy even before working with his father? Not even he could waste his allowance on an item like this. If so, why did Gwen scam him for a mere thousand HDMs when they first met? Was it to make him lose face? Was it for the favour? The Fung heir suddenly felt his shirt drenched with cold sweat. “Here, let’s put it on.” Gwen brushed back her hair while someone of the right height - namely Richard, clasped it around her neck. After invoking the attunement glyph, the necklace turned to air. It made sense though; such items were worn permanently. Like her Contingency Ring, it wasn't leaving her body until it activated, or she died. The earrings too soon adhered to her dawn-tinted lobes. As promised, they looked like tiny diamond studs once the glamour activated. "Beautiful!" Mina clapped. Lulan's watery eyes sparkled. “Gwennabitch, you got any notion how pimped yo ass is right now?” Tao whistled. “You’re more tricked out than a mermaid hustler!” Gwen grinned, her confidence restored. Excluding Gunther’s Ring, she was wearing quite the list of useful items. A Ring of Evasion. A Translator Ioun Stone. An Ioun Stone of Clarified Thought. A Ghosting Amulet. A Large Storage Ring. Mind-Shield Earrings. And her high-end Message Device. Once she was free from the confines of a tier 1 city and had to make her way into the Wildlands, everything from armour to wands to Golems were hers to purchase, with only her ability to generate crystals as the limit. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Master Song!” Lulan professed, her eyes welling with crystal-filled wonder. Under her breath, Lulan thanked her unthankful ancestors that she left that abusive, armpit of a mountain Clan. The rest of the party laughed, filling the high-ceilinged penthouse with the sound of shared mirth. “Okay, okay,” Gwen calmed her audience while Lei served up the drinks and snacks. “Since you're all here, I want to let everyone here know that I’ve run into some problems, and I would like to discuss an intervention.” Her friends and family gazed at one another. “I think that I’ve trained a little too quickly for my own good,” Gwen confessed. “Though I haven’t checked recently, my Lightning Affinity thanks to Ariel is hitting close to 7. I am also in possession of Draconic-Essence, as many of you know, which is exacerbating the problems caused by my affinity.” “Humble-bragging?” Dai burst out with a snort, almost spilling his drink. Casually, he willed away the wayward droplets. Tier 7 and she's just beginning her Path? He took a sip. The insanity of it all. “I am serious,” Gwen declared tragically. “The other day, I was duelling Senior Tei - we made up by the way-” Tao whistled. Dai froze. The others grinned. “Tao! Not like that,” Gwen reprimanded her cousin. “Anyway, I was losing, and for a moment I lost my marbles. I wanted to win so much, that I told Caliban to Consume his Shield, and then I tried to lay down a Cloud Kill in the duelling arena. After that, as you know, Dean Luo gave me a tongue lashing.” Her peers grew solemn. “Well, does anyone have any advice to give?” “…” “…” “…” As expected, Mum's the word. “Good luck with that," Dai remarked. "There are not many Mages with your affinity, much less at the natural tier. Even Lu is tier 4 plus Wanli.” “What Dai says is true,” Petra pipped in. “According to Master, you’re tier 6 without Ariel. Most Mages are tier 3 plus Spirit. You're going to need someone just as special and rare, but when you add in Draconic-essence...” “Same here, I am tier 4 naturally.” Richard raised his hand. “Lea provides the rest. I suppose I am already pretty easy going though, and a little lazy, haha. We Water Mages have it easy.” “Lazy? You’re a workaholic!” Gwen accused her cousin. “Weren't you apartment-hunting?” “Still looking,” Richard replied. “I can help,” Mina interjected. “Me and Tao, that is, what do you need?” “Ha, the Wang Group buildings are a bit rich for my blood.” Richard scratched his head. “I am looking for something near the low-end suburbs, not inner city.” “Well, let us know…” Mina imposed herself. “I’ll take you to see some properties if you like.” “I might take you up on that offer.” Richard smiled back. “Give me time.” Dai touched his chin tentatively. Gwen's cousin, looking for a house? Gwen looked around the room: indeed, her family, including the most knowledgable Petra, had no solutions for her dilemma. Sighing gently, she listened as the crowd continued their banter, thinking just how the hell she was going to wrangle her impulses. CCs? She entertained the thought. 200 CCs if you can teach me not to freak when I compound Draconic-essence and my Lightning. But could she do that? Would she want to do that? Expose herself, allow a stranger to probe her? In a way, she wished Dean Luo had been harsher. How as she going to learn a lesson at this stage? Where was the follow up? It wasn't like the Dean just to let something like this go, not after all the interest he had taken in her. Was the man cooking up something in the dark? She bit her lip. Was Petra right in saying she was a masochist?

“WOCAO!” “What in Mao’s name…” “Eee!!” “Gwen!” "SHAA! SHAA!" “LUYI! Come back!” “GWEN! Stop that at once!” Caliban expanded to twice its usual size, bloating with Void-matter as it answered its master’s submerged psyche. Likewise, Ariel assumed its oppressive draconic-mien, fluffed with rage and vengeance, crackling with viridescent shunts of tyrannical lightning. Behind the livid dual-elementalist, the Spirits belonging to her peers descended into fight or flight mode, straining against their Master’s mental leashes, desperate to flee from the Dragon-fear. There was Wanli, Lu Fung’s Thunderhawk, and Luyi, the deer-Sprite belonging to Eunae Lee, the Korean exchange student, as well as half a dozen others who had joined Chen’s Advanced Bestiary Course, snarling, growling, scratching and biting maddeningly. The reason for their peer's sudden hysteria was their second instructor. After re-introducing himself, Instructor Chen had invited in a Master Magister with ‘two decades’ of experience in raising a Spirit-Familiar to join them. Though the Magister proved a perfect, well-dressed stranger to the rest of the class, Gwen recognised his unforgettable face at once. For the first few seconds, the revelation had stunned her into silence, too startled to command her motor-synapses. But not so her Familiars. Sensing their Master's descent into the abyss, they drank from the fathomless hostility she had buried since the Sydney Incident. “ERIC WALKEN, YOU BASTARD!” Her voice reverberated across the empty training hall like a thunderclap, forcing those standing close to her to cup their ears. “Gwen Song.” The old Magister made no move to defend himself. “Fancy meeting you here, how fickle karma must be.” “You know Magister Walken?” Chen was incredulous. “But…” But why are you looking as though you're ready to Consume him, was the question on Chen’s lips. When Luo had introduced Walken, Chen had expected a jovial, almost serendipitous meeting between the two Australians. Gwen was a talented student, and Walken was an Ex-member of the Oceania ruling council. Though he did not know why Walken left his post, that the Dean had wrangled a tier 7 Conjurer-supreme away from the Commonwealth Mageocracy was a miraculous feat in itself. “What... are you doing here?” Gwen's tone dripped with murder. Intellectually, she knew there wasn't a snowball’s chance in the Elemental Plane of Fire that she could maim or defeat the Magister in public, especially not in the university. Nonetheless, her subconsciousness persisted in its wilful, meteoric desire for satisfaction. Each time she reminded herself of the time, the place and her company, her Familiars loosened guttural bouts of shrieks and hisses, informing the others exactly how she felt about Walken. Her new-found honesty was as distressing as it was irksome. The ability to bear and grin life's cruel injustices with poker-faced masochism had been her calling card, but her Master’s face, pale and loitering, quashed her feeble efforts. Beside her ear, a waspish buzz intensified until the memory of yesteryear howled with the tenacity of ten-thousand Furies baying for blood. She didn’t even hear her Master’s last words! Not even a proper goodbye! And the source of her agony could be linked to one man. Eric - FUCKING - Walken. The erstwhile leader of Oceania’s Grey Faction. The man who had put Sydney Tower into a Lockdown; invited the Mermen right into the city’s midst, preventing her Master from accessing the Grot, activating the Tower's defences, and eradicating his cunt of a wife! If Sobel had been the murderer of Henry, then Walken was her foolish, unknowing accomplice. Though the Magister had escaped prosecution, he had not fled from disgrace. Thanks to Gunther and the Middle-Faction’s influence in the Mageocracy, Walken had been thrown from a position of power, never again to be included among the shakers and movers of the Commonwealth. And now, the man was in front of her; his soul ripe for the reaping, his face blanched and resolute, ready to meet his maker. “Gwen, what the hell do you think you’re doing!?” Lu Fung was the first to recover, snapping at his family's money-tree. Wanli rose into the air, ready for action. "Don't make trouble for the Clan! We still need you!" "What's gotten into you?" Eunha hugged her doe. She had known Gwen for half a year now, and she had never seen her 'senior' completely lose her faculties. “Lu, shut up and stand down! The rest of you, back off!” Chen howled the other students into silence. “Gwen, what’s your problem with Magister Walken?” Walken waited for her answer, his expression that of a man having found a mildly-interesting butterfly. “This man.” Gwen forced the words from between clenched teeth. “Is the reason I lost my Master and my home.” The curious students suddenly wished they hadn’t heard her answer. Getting involved in someone else's blood-grudge was always a recipe for disaster, especially when that somebody could duel Wonsoo Liu under the arena. “Gwen.” Chen placed himself between the Magister and his student. “Put away your Familiars.” “I've been trying.” Gwen willed her Familiars to back off, but both Ariel and Caliban fought her tooth and nail. The saying went that the mind was willing, but the flesh was weak, though in her case, the brain was deceiving itself, and her body was entirely too honest. Both of her Familiars owed their existence to Henry's signature Conjure Familiar. The Lord of Oceania had been one of the first human beings they had seen and interacted with upon their entry into the Material Plane. He had been the first to feed Caliban and Ariel, the first to accept Caliban not as a monster, but a companion, even before their Master herself. Though Gwen had no idea if her creatures were intellectually capable of processing Walken’s cock-up in Sydney, they translated her loathing perfectly and without reserve, their minds too simple to blunt the raw hostility pounding their elemental animus. “Huonu!” Chen’s Salamander came roaring into the Material realm, becoming a sizable wall between Gwen’s Familiars and Magister Walken. It was the first time Gwen had seen Huonu in its entirety. Stretching almost four meters from head to tip, the humanoid Fire-sprite had vaguely humanoid facial features, a pair of well-muscled arms spluttering magma, and a powerful, barrel-thick serpentine tail. The stench of sulphur and cinder made the air impossible to breathe, forcing her to back away. “Gwen, pack your beasts away, NOW, or I pack them for you.” Cowed by Huonu, Gwen was able to retract both of her Familiars. Chen waited until he was sure the dual-element sorceress had regained her faculties before he retrieved his Magma Spirit. “Class is cancelled today!” he barked at the students. “Dismissed!” Usually, the haughty Conjurers would be full of high-sentence before they dispersed, but after a display like that, none of Fudan's best and brightest Conjurers had any desire to linger. “Gwen.” Lu paused at the door. Clan Fung's latent fortune-finder looked to her fellow Spirit-Conjurer. “Clan Fung will give you its full support.” Hugging her arms to prevent a wayward misfire, Gwen returned Lu's offer of support with a subtle nod. “Gwen, stay here and keep your Familiars contained.” Chen then turned to Walken and bowed. “My deepest apologies on behalf of the administration, Sir. I had no idea there would be history such as this between a student and yourself. We have not done our due diligence.” “It’s quite alright, Sir Chen.” Walken waved his hand. “The full extent of my shame and the reason for our shameful circumstance is known only to the highest echelons of the Commonwealth. By that same measure, I find no fault in Gwen’s anger. In her place, I would have done the same, perhaps worse. As for her outburst, it may be best to speak with Dean Luo in person.” “I see,” Chen thanked the Magister. “We’ll await the Dean.” Forcing herself to breathe, Gwen glanced at Walken's despicable mien. “Of course, there is no rush.” Walken’s smile reminded Gwen of the very first time they had ever met in the Tower. Despite what he had done, the bastard dared to appear self-assured and faultless. To Gwen, the satisfaction gained from punching that face would have been therapeutic. The reality, however, was that she was in enough trouble as it was. Since her troubles with Bai, the Dean had warned her several times to keep her composure. By that same measure, she vaguely recalled that the Dean had stated he was on the lookout for potential Instructors to help her out. Bloody oath, she mentally face-palmed. Fuck! Even if Luo had found a Ravenport, she would have felt less inclined to murder the man. She couldn't give a shit who Luo dug up, but please don't let it be Eric-fucken-Walken! “This is your new Instructor, Gwen, to help you temper your unique disposition.” Dean Luo pointed his finger at the villainous, smiling Walken. Bastard! Bloody, heartless villain! Remorseless, treacherous, soulless, kinless ass-hat! Her mind continued to riot, heedless of the Dean's soft-spoken words. What an ass she was to stand and stare like a whipped bitch! She should be tearing him apart with her teeth! “No way in hell,” Gwen refuted the Dean’s offer with absolute certainty. “He should be so lucky if a wayward you-know-what doesn’t strike him in the face.” Magister Walken remained perfectly calm, as though their conversation was about groceries. That he looked good and had his shit together incensed Gwen even more. Though fallen from grace, Walken was the sort that groomed impeccably. His greying hair was slicked back, leaving a wayward strand hanging over his right eye. His face as well retained a certain youthfulness unbecoming of a treacherous scamp. To Gwen, the old schemer reminded her of an anthropomorphic Scar to Henry’s Mufasa. The Dean's patience had a shorter fuse than she anticipated. Had the man been expecting, and indeed, dreading their present circumstance? “Gwen, be reasonable.” “This man… is responsible for the death of my Master!” “Unofficial Master…” Walken coughed gently. “You..!” “Gwen!” “Sir!” “Not another word!” Her blood boiled, as did her Almudj’s Essence. Her mind grew white with wrath. She couldn't think. FUCK IT! A spell came to her lips. "Force Cage!" The Dean was on her before she could utter a single spell. Though the barriers were invisible, Gwen was sure she had been confined by unseen-partitions because the surrounding air grew suddenly stale. Gingerly, she moved a foot forward, sensing the extremities of her 'dunce' prison. Force Cage was a Monster-hunting spell. It blocked simple teleportation like Blink but allowed Mage-specific translocations such as Dimension Door. "Cool your head!" Luo raised a finger, then another. "You're on two-strikes." Fuck! She backed away from the wall. Stay calm, she told herself, repeating the words like a mantra. Evee. Evee. EVEE! “I can see why the Dean is so worried,” Walken continued. “Henry never did train you properly, did he? Your Master was rearing you up in a green-house, taking his time, hoping you could fill the hole a certain Elizabeth Sobel had left.” Gwen’s complexion grew as red as pippins. Were she not behind a Force Cage, she was sure a strengthened right-hook would have disconnected Walken’s jaw from his face right about now. “Tier 6 Lightning… a rare talent. Not to mention Dragon Essence from a Thundering sub-species. How interesting.” Walken returned to the Dean. “You know, Luo, when I first saw her, she was barely scratching tier 3 and 4 in her spells, and her affinity for Lightning was 3 at best. I suppose in the end, despite everything, my suspicions regarding Sobel was right.” The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. By now, Gwen had held her breath so long it felt as though she would pass out. If her Instructors had paid closer attention, they would have seen her aristocratic veins throbbing with a life of their own. “Eric, do you have to tease her so?” Luo furrowed his brows. “I read your report to the High Council. Your case for clemency would have been stillborn were it not for the data coming out of Wen’s testimony.” “What about Magister Wen?” Gwen looked to Dean Luo, a vague but horrifying realisation engendering in her mind. "What testimony?" Luo sighed. “Gwen, if you want to know how this came about, I’ll need you to keep calm.” “I am calm.” The two men glanced at one another. “Ellen, keep an eye on her. Gwen, don't you dare hurt yourself.” The Air Sprite nodded, drifting a few meters, acting the part of bodyguard and ditsy secretary. Gwen had no doubt Ellen could vacuum-pack the Force Cube, knocking her out. Of course, she could D-D the fuck out of here, but that would also spell the end of her University career. It's a test, the rational part of her mind informed her, stay calm and think of Evees. The frustration of her dilemma was exquisite. This time, the distress in her rapidly swelling eyes was genuine. “Shall I?” Walken offered. “Sure, why not?” Luo found his way back to the alcohol cabinet. He needed a fucking drink. A worried educator and administrator spent personal favours, pulled weight, called in debts and burnt goodwill to get a Mao-blessed trainer for his protege, and she repaid him by spitting in his face. If the girl had been his daughter, he wouldn’t have minded giving her a good spanking or have her kneel over bamboo grates for a night to set her priorities straight. Was Walken responsible for the girl's Master's demise? Only by chance and association. For a child who knew so little of Walken and Kilroy's history, Gwen's hyperbolic reaction was for Luo, equal-parts sympathy and frustration. “Gwen, you want a seat?” Ellen asked. “I’ll stand.” Her green eyes followed Walken around the room. Walken patrolled Luo's Force Cage, taunting her, mocking her intemperance, inspecting the reason why he’d once again found gainful employment. “First, let me apologise for what happened in Sydney. Events were obfuscated, and politics had clouded my better judgement.” Gwen swallowed her next words: they involved Dimensions, Doors, and AoEs- but the Dean was watching. “As for our story, you should be aware of it. After the battle, I was arrested - by your 'unofficial' brother-in-craft. After that, I became the target of a non-too-friendly interrogation by the Magisters present: Lin, Uther, Ferris, and of course Magus Shultz. They put me under a great deal of Enchantment, you must understand, and to be perfectly honest with you, I am not sure what I told them either - only that by the end of a week-long inquest, I was transferred over to Hague, to the International Mageocracy Tribunal there, presided over by the three Factions.” “Then, weeks later, I discovered that it was you who saved me from Stasis-” “What are you…” Gwen protested. “- your discovery of Sobel’s method of entry into the Tower.” Walken raised a finger. “If you recall?” SHIT! NO! She recalled Gunther’s casual mention that ‘you may have saved Walken's life,’ when they had convened in her brother-in-craft's office in Sydney. “Indeed, my emerald-eyed Lady Luck. I owe you one. Thank you for saving me from the disgrace of being nailed with a betrayal I did not commit.” “…” A Displacer Beast caught Gwen's tongue. She felt sick, but what could she say? She should have just stayed quiet. Loose lips sink ships; apparently, they also save your worst enemies from being put into Stasis. “Then, at my official trial months later, you ratified my theory once again, quite serendipitously, I must add, with your contributions to Fudan.” “Wha?” “That would be Wen’s submission of your Void Element’s Consumption properties to the Pudong Tower.” Dean Luo reminded Gwen. "We did tell you the papers were shared with both Pudong and the CCP." “Oh, yes. Imagine my shock when 'Initial findings on the Void Mage Gwen Song' was able to vindicate my motivation for turning against Henry, having suspected that he was trying to create yet another Sobel. To draw an analogy, your Master was the originator of the first Flesh Golem, 'Lizzy' von Frankenstein, so I’d thought him eager to create a second. Thinking that perhaps, with you being so young, he could keep you under this thumb.” The Magister waited to see how Gwen would react. When the girl remained stunned, immobile and silent, he smirked. “Very good. Your improved temperament astounds me. At any rate, when details emerged of your ability to consume Mages to usurp their affinity, the Grey Faction managed to reduce a castigating exile into a more amicable parting from the upper echelons. You see, though I had acted in bad faith, my motives were not wrong. The world certainly did not desire another Elizabeth Sobel, and had we left Henry to his devices, who knew what old Deathless would have knocked up, hmm?” “I-I… saved you?” Gwen’s hands clenched and unclenched. The mention of her Master’s old moniker, so ironically called Deathless Henry, was too much. Her lips moved as though possessed. “Because of me… you’re walking free?” “Yes,” Walken bowed. “Thank you, Gwen, for the unbidden generosity.” “Oh…” Gwen tried to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Touching a hand to her face, she felt an unusual patch of wetness. Was she bleeding? No, it wasn't another nosebleed - it was worse. “O… I… Oh God… shit… you bastard…” She began to cry. A grown woman, wailing away her frustrations. A daughter with a father slain, showing weakness in front of her dire enemy and her heartless Dean. Was this her punishment? Was that it? This sad and sadistic state of affairs, had Jiang Luo planned it? If only her Master had been here, Henry with his wisdom would have made things alright. He would have taught her how to manage her affinities. He would have tempered her spells, blunted her jagged edges, polished her confetti-collection of spells she’d picked up by chance, charity and choice. Henry, a father she never had, a Master she’d thought she’d share the better part of her life with: a mentor, a friend, a confident - a captain. Gone! Thanks to this man. And somehow, she saved his ass. Not only that, she was forbidden from kicking his ass. Irony, frustration, bewilderment, self-loathing, grief and melancholy, the weight of her confused emotions broke over her mental-levee. Across the room, her two educators regarded one another. Luo exhaled. Tears were good. Tears were proof of the girl's humanity, of her malleability, of the fact that she wasn't yet a sociopathic drake. Then came the sound of the girl's choking sobs, and the men's scalps grew numb. Here was a girl, seventeen or so, bullied by two old men into a river of tears. She moaned, hacked, snuffled and choked. Luo dispelled his Cage. “Ellen, can you..?” Ellen shook her head. She had adored the girl once, but her familiar Caliban was a Spirit-eater. As far as Ellen was concerned, the girl was a usurper, and the Air Sprite had no desire to be any closer to the girl. With a solemn awkwardness, the two men waited while Gwen wailed and dribbled, leaking liquid emotion over the Dean’s plush, pale-pink Persian carpet. As for Gwen, the expulsion had been cathartic. After the unbidden purge of pent up emotions, her mind returned to its usual self; cold as ice and sharp as a tack. “You owe me,” she stated rather rudely the moment her face regained a semblance of control. Now that her fever had passed, she had to reassess the situation logically, rationally, advantageously. “As I said.” Walken nodded. “I owe you my freedom.” “So what can you teach me?” Gwen forced the words between her lips. “How can I control... this?” “Meditation, attunement, practice, knowledge,” Walken stated each word, pronouncing every syllable. “And of course, the improvement of your mind and your Familiar.” “I can do that myself,” Gwen snarled. “You can't.” Walken grinned. “You'll only dig yourself deeper.” “He’s right,” the Dean interjected. “Ordinarily, such esoteric knowledge is carried on between Master and Apprentice, passed down between generations. A mercenary Instructor at the tier you require does not exist.” “How do my peers deal with their affinity problems?” Gwen pointed out the Dean's logical fallacy. The Dean scoffed. “Gwen.” Luo regarded his protègè critically. “You’re naturally affinity 6, and you’re running a juvenile draconic-Spirit that may very well gift you with another 2 to 3 magnitudes once it matures. How many Mage do you think will ever possess that level of affinity?” “Which is why Luo found me.” Walken made sure there was enough space in the Dean’s office before raising a hand toward the sky. “Couatl!” A flash of brilliant Conjuration later, a Winged Serpent fully three-meters tall filled the chamber from the ceiling to the carpet. Its wings were a splay of rainbow-hues, multi-coloured and resplendent. A draconic head opened its maw to reveal a row of backwards-facing teeth, from an equestrian skull, its sky-blue pupils regarded Gwen. “A Winged Serpent!” Gwen gasped, sensing a strange kinship with the creature. “A dragon?” “A Lightning-type pseudo-dragon, yes.” Walken studied her response carefully. “Aella the Couatl. My partner and companion. Not too dissimilar from your Ariel.” The serpent lowered itself until it could coil around Gwen’s waist. It sniffed her, tasting her skin with its forked tongue. “Aella elemental-shifts Air to Lightning,” the Magister explained. “During the showdown in Sydney, it was Sobel's first victim during our battle. I hadn’t known then how Lightning countered her Void. As a result of my lack of knowledge, our battle was over before it even began.” Gwen touched a finger to the rainbow-hued feathers. For some reason, the anger she felt for Walken subsided. Did the Familiar possess a calming-aura? No, it was something else, something akin to a strange endearment. Its feathers reminded her of Almudj’s rainbow-hued scales. She pushed Aella's inquisitive snout from her face. “Your Familiar won’t make this any easier.” Gwen lied. She did feel better. Cute pets were most definitely her soft spot. “Regardless, I am engaged by Dean Luo for the duration of the IIUC,” Walken announced. “I was the Adjudicator for the Oceania region between 1997 and 1999 and I will be looking after your team whether you like it or not. If you wish to fight me every step of the way, that is also acceptable to me.” “…” Gwen glared at the man impotently. How long would it take for her to gain enough competence to stuff him down Caliban’s maw? For a normal Mage, the answer was likely never. She could catch up, but she could never surpass a Magister four decades ahead of her. But for herself, wasn’t rapid empowerment just a matter of convenience and ethics? Why she could visit Tianlanqiao tomorrow with Wen! "..." Shivering, she snuffed the thought before it could germinate. “Gwen, I offer an oliver branch to you." Walken's voice was deep and smooth, resembling a talk-back radio-host. "I believe we got off on the wrong foot, as so to speak.” What appeared to be an Ioun Stone drifted through the air. Gwen recognised the mana signature instantly. “This is… from my Master!” “From Henry to me, of course, from a very long time ago. May it help you find some solace.” Gwen regarded Walken suspiciously but took the Ioun Stone anyway. From the looks of it, it was an old 'recorder', from a time before Divination Towers grew prevalent, a type of Ioun Stone that imparted essential messages, spells, and documents. “A memento, worthless to me,” Walken added, his thin lips pressing to form a red line before continuing. “I have your Master’s rarer collection, after all. All twelve of them.” Walken's humblebrag struck her like a bolt from the blue. Her Master’s Ioun Stones! Her almond eyes widened until they were the size of an Emerald Rhomboid, a rare variant of Ioun Stones capable of neutralising poison and other chemicals effects on the body. She had never wanted to possess something so badly in her life. “BUT - I am afraid our audience is at an end,” Walken suddenly broke off their mutual gaze. “The Dean and I desire a private audience.” "Wait... hey! Stop that!" Aella the Couatl pushed against her with its snout until she exited the office, at which point Ellen boomed shut the double doors, leaving her with an arm full of feathered snake. “Show!” Aella nudged her. “Show! Show!” Walken's Familiar can talk?! Gwen brushed a feather from her hair. A fucking talking winged snake. ‘Show?’ It wanted to see Ariel, Gwen realised. The Couatl cared not about the gripe between herself and its Master, nor the politics involved between the Factions. It wanted what it wanted, as honest as any spirit Familiar could be. “Fine,” Gwen agreed, her hand gripping the Ioun Stone. There was no point taking out her feelings on someone else’s good-natured ophidian-retriever. "I'll show you." “So, what do you think?” “There's a lot of work to be done.” “But also potential." The Dean’s admitted his protègè was a handful. “If you say so.” “Well, can you do something about her predicament?” “Isn’t that why I am here?” “Now that you’ve seen her I mean.” Taking a minute to mull over his answer, Walken walked over to the cabinet and poured himself a glass of bourbon. “Oh-ho, how’d you get the American stuff.” “The usual channels - well?” “I am afraid it's not so simple.” “That’s a no, then?” “Yes, and no,” Walken answered cryptically. “The girl has problems beyond her pride. She was unhealthily attached to Kilroy, you understand. The ol'Deathless died both ironically and very suddenly, I am afraid. Left her an orphan; all that power, all that potential, untempered, raw, undirected.” “And you’re a part of the reason why.” “Yes.” Walken took a sip. “We're strangely entangled, don't you think?” “I doubt she'd think so." Luo chuckled. "That girl's out for blood.” “Absolutely.” Walken nodded. “Amongst other things, it's strange how if it weren’t for that girl, things would be very different right now. I’d be dead, for one. Or in Stasis.” “So?” “As I am responsible, I’ll sub Kilroy in his stead.” “You can’t be serious.” “I'll be... a facsimile if you will. Something to cling on.” “And how do you propose to resolve her affinity problems? You've got six months.” “Trial and error,” Walken explained. “I’ll teach her everything I kno- OH! GOD DAMN, WHAT THE DEVIL?!” “Walken!” Luo closed in. “Are you alright?” “The girl just fed my Familiar her Dragon-essence!” Walken spat. He had splashed the bourbon all over his vest. “Is she daft?! Why is she giving out Essence treats? Does she think she's Henry's Dryad?” Luo laughed. “She did that with Ellen as well. Careful she doesn't steal your Spirit from under you! She's a charmer, that one. A born negotiator.” “All the more perfect for an induction into the Grey Faction.” Walken regained his sensibilities once he adjusted his mana wavelength to negate the new stimulus. “Judging from the actions she's taken to establish herself, she's far better suited to our Credo than that of the Middle Path.” Gwen returned home late, shared a takeout dinner with Petra, then retired to her bed. From her Storage Ring, she cupped the Ioun Stone with her Master’s mana-signature between her hands. “!” She attempted to activate its glyph. These were simple devices, and Walken had left it untethered and unlocked. Slowly, the egg-sized quartz rose into the air. A Message began to play. First, the air around the polished surface shimmered, then an image formed from thin air, pitting Gwen face to face with Henry Kilroy. “Eric,” the recording started. Gwen had to cup her mouth to stop herself from screaming. She gazed into the face of her Master, its ghostly form flickering, while the stone delivered its payload. “Old friend, I am sending you this private Message to apologise for the actions taken by my protégé, Alesia de Botton. She's both young and talented, making her prone to the usual trappings of Fire Mages. As you know, it takes years to temper that arrogance and presumptuousness of theirs. I know you’re still recovering from your injuries, so I’ve sent over some of Sufina’s Mead along with the Ioun Stones I promised, I hope you’ll take care of them better than I did, not trading them away when one of your students berserk, haha...” “... On a serious note, allow me to thank you for holding back against Alesia. She’s got a lot of room to grow, and I know you could have ended her life if you wished. That you held back in deference to me, enduring her insults out of respect for our working relationship, makes me glad. As for what Alesia had uncovered, I hope that it was a misunderstanding and that in the audit to follow, we can account for the source of those ‘goods’ the Grey Market is using to acquire Creature Cores...” “Old friend, I know we’ve grown apart since you joined the Grey Faction, but I want you to know that I’ve never forgotten those days we served together during the Coral Sea War. You were as good a Lieutenant one could have asked for during those desperate times. I don’t begrudge your social climbing, nor do I fault you for suspecting Elizabeth. I think, in the end, we would have gone the Path we did anyway, with or without your interference. Lastly, let me ask after your wife, Audrey, and your girls Beatrix and Angie. I hope they are doing well. If you need some Golden Mead or a Vitae-fruit for Angie, don’t hesitate to ask. Having mana-asthma at her age is no easy feat, especially for a child...” “Thanks, Eric. I expect to hear from you soon. Hopefully, your wounds won’t leave a scar. Your friend. Henry Kilroy.” After the last syllable dissolving into air, Gwen buried her face in her pillow. She activated the stone again, allowing the message to repeat. “Eric… your know how Fire Mages are…" "Going after Elizabeth…" "Your friend...” After the third playthrough, she gave up trying to stifle the moisture escaping her eyes and resigned herself to a tear-soaked pillow as she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of yesteryears when life seemed so much simpler.

"You've got my support, whatever you choose." Petra paired her assurance with a maternal peck to Gwen's forehead. "Cheers." Gwen massaged her puffy eye bags. "Thanks, Pats. I'll sleep on it for now." When a minute-long hug from Petra in the morning failed to dispel the vitriol churning in her chest, she knew she was in no condition to make rational choices. As such, emulating the Prince of Denmark, Gwen opted for procrastination and delay. For the next few days, she continued her Conjuration, Translocation, Utility-Divination and Evocation as before, restrained to the front row, passively running her Invisible Familiar. Her old friends from the previous year, Lily, Jon and the unfortunately named Pu, accompanied her, watched over enviously by the rest of their cohort as an irksome Magister Birch delivered his lecture. “Ah~, I want to see Ariel!” Lily moped, running her hand across an invisible belly, looking ridiculous as she stroked the air. “After the class, sure,” Gwen promised. Ever since the Fudan DC incident, she had suffered incessant requests to see her Familiar wherever she went. Sometimes she entertained these demands. More often than not, she politely declined or fled. “You know, Gwen, you’re the talk of the campus,” Jon, the Enchanter aspirant, observantly remarked. “They say you defeated Tei Bai and that you’re going to enter the IIUC on Fudan’s behalf.” “Woa, you’re entering the IIUC?!” Lily cut in. “That's super elite!” “Gwen’s an elite, not like us,” Pu reminded their companion. “Who else you know can tap into both Void and Lightning, possess a Mongolian Death Worm _and_ a Kirin?” “Maybe we should follow Gwen from now on?” Lily half-joked. “What do you say, Gwen?” “You’re welcome any time,” their elite companion laughed, her mood improving. “I’ve got no Clan and no Tower though, we’ll be vagabonds!” “How about a Quest or two?” Pu pushed to see if their alumna was merely modest or genuinely interested. “Sure, if I’ve got time. It’s always good to stretch out my legs,” the object of Pu’s enquiry returned. “I’ve got a party of my own, but I’d love to do something with you guys as well. My magic isn't going to improve being cooped up all the time. So long as you pick a weekend, she'll be right.” It took a few seconds for her slang to sink in. “Ooo! I look forward to it! Adventuring with an _elite_!” Lily, the least bashful of the threesome, was shameless in taking advantage of Gwen's generosity. Pu laughed awkwardly, knowing full well that anyone who could give Tei Bai a run for his crystals wasn’t likely to think much of folks sitting on tier 4 magic. Beside their Evoker companion, Jon’s face grew flushed. Like his friend Pu, Jon had a feeling that whatever danger Gwen faced on the regular wasn’t going to be for mundane students like them. Watching Lily's boisterous optimism, Jon reminded himself to admonish his companion. While Gwen was their friend and associate, she would never be a comrade; their distance, as it were, was unbridgable. If anything, a Mage with Gwen's prospects and family connections could only be their superior; believing otherwise would bring calamity, both now and in the future. While Gwen flitted in and out of her third week of classes, rumours had spread of the Black and White Kirin of Fudan, attracting curious stickybeaks both local and Districts away. Thankfully, Orientation was officially over, leaving visitors to ponder where Fudan DC's new mascots had gone. As for those lucky enough to happen upon Gwen's duty-hours, they managed to catch a glimpse of a noble Kirin and a God-awful creature that made the viewer ill even from a distance. Indeed, if that netherworld abomination could be a black Kirin, a Displacer Mauler could be an Shíshī. “Sir Caliban is an acquired taste,” a Fudan student haughtily informed his Jianqiao opposition. “You wouldn’t understand until you see its owner in the flesh - we’re calling her the Kirin Lady now.” “What did you use to call her?” “The Worm Handler.” “Hahaha, what?! That sounds like-” “SHHH! Don’t let the Duelling Club members hear you. She’s their idol on a pedestal now, well - her Familiars are.” “Okay, okay.” The visitor looked around conspiratorially. “So, where can we see the owner?” 'The Owner' was halfway across the campus, agonising over Eric Walken’s help. “No!” Elvia’s lament poured through LRM Device. “No way!” “YES WAY!” Gwen groaned. “And then, he told me that I was an ‘unofficial’ Apprentice!” “Bastard!” “I know, right?” They had already spent the rare hour conversing about Gwen’s latest encounter. One by one Gwen had consulted her peers for advice. The hardest and longest came from her brother-in-craft. Gunther’s final opinion was that he would be keeping this quiet from Alesia and that anything other than Spellcraft from Walken should be taken with a grain of salt. With Yue, Gwen's unexpectedly collected companion intimated that she too would be keeping this latest travesty from her Master- that and Gwen should engineer 'training accidents' at every opportunity. “He’s bound to let his guard down. Maybe suddenly drop your top or something, and while he’s surprised and horny - POW! Right in the kisser.” “… Thanks for the advice.” Gwen took Yue’s word with a fistful of salt. “I am not equipped for that strategy, unfortunately. I'll pass.” As for her friends and family in China, their advice concurred with Gunther’s most rational assessment. If she turned down Walken, where the hell was she going to find another pseudo-draconic, high-affinity Conjurer with two decades of experience working with her old Master? As for Richard, her cousin was all in. "Use 'em and dump 'em." Richard gave her a thumbs up. "Suck 'em dry, Champ." Elvia was her last port-of-call. The last member of her immediately intimate companions from that incident. She had wanted to contact Surya as well, but her Enchanter maternal-grandfather lived way out in the tablelands with his hands full looking after refugees. Getting Surya to travel to the Tower or Alesia's apartment was a chore in itself. “Gwen, between you and me.” Elvia suddenly leaned in conspiratorially. “What did you get from Yue around Xmas time?” “Oh?” Gwen materialised the hairpin. “I got an opal hairpin. What about you?” Elvia’s profile grew strangely withdrawn. “Well?” Wordlessly, Elvia produced a box from her Storage Ring, then opened the rectangular container to reveal a set of ivory chopsticks. “Wooo, nice,” Gwen cooed. “Same material as mine. It’s got a little curvature to it too. Monster-teeth?” “Oh, Gwen~.” Her friend touched a hand to her temple. “It’s a set of Lizard-kin _baculums.”_ “What the hell is that?” Gwen cocked her head. She had neither Google nor a dictionary in her apartment. “It’s a p…” “P?” She twirled the hairpin between her fingers expertly. Elvia looked around to ensure no one could hear her next words. “It’s the PENIS bone found in humanoid species of Lizard-men!” With a sudden jerk of her hand, the penial-fashionista hurled her baculum with the revulsion of one suddenly finding a fat, foreign phallus prodding one's fingers. ‘Thunk!’ The business-end, weighted for pleasure, stuck into the drywall with a thunk! Like a rudely-erect sundial, Yue’s ill-humoured phallus mocked her from up on high. Holy shit! Gwen felt ill. She had worn that thing in front of everyone! She had boasted of how well it matched her outfit! “That Yue…” Gwen recalled her Uncle’s discomfort while they conversed. Her face burned. “I am… going to pay her back. We must pay her back!” “Count me in!” Elvia’s eyes grew swollen. “Why, what did you do, Evee?” She wondered if Elvia too had been using the sticks as a hair ornament. Evee's lament erupted with anguish. “Sylvie caught on to what they were, but not before I ate lunch...” By the week's end, at the Dean's polite behest, Gwen consented to a meeting with Walken to discuss what they would be doing. Before she could invest in Walken's venture, she had to rationally and logically consider the boons and banes. With a few months until trials for the IIUC started, and roughly six months before the IIUC itself began within the Inter-Asia region, those choices came with weighted consequences. “Come at me.” She blinked. “You want me to attack you?” “I do.” “You are sure?” Gwen couldn't believe it. She didn't even have to drop her top or nothing. “Absolu-.” “Lightning Bolt!” A streak of arm-thick lightning flashed between them. “Elemental Anchor!” A swirling mandala appeared mid-air. Where Gwen’s Lightning had struck, the invoked plasma harmlessly drained into Walken's revolving glyphs, glowing only for a second before her energy faded. She stared then glared at Walken with equal parts resentment and awe. “A tier 5 Transmutation spell, useful for defending against Mages with conforming Elemental alignments.” Walken grinned. “Did you forget that I am a Magister? Is that all you have?” Gwen had indeed forgotten that Walken was a Magister. The last time she had seen him, the prick was in the midst of being bitch-slapped by Sobel. But the man was indeed a Magister. As such, Walken should have at least three Schools of Magic at tier 6 and above. If Conjuration was his Major School of Magic, what were the others? Transmutation was a possibility, and Evocation most likely. Walken never did invoke Illusion, Abjuration did not favour Air, and Creature Mages seldom took high-tier Divination or Enchantment. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. “Elemental Sphere!” Gwen pumped out a second spell before Walken even finished. “Shield!” Her sphere struck Walken’s Lightning barrier. Rather than imploding, her sphere melded into Walken’s Shield, seemingly consumed by its surface. “Childish!” Walken sneered. “Void Bolt!” A dark sliver sped toward Walken. She shouldn’t have, but taking a hatchet to Walken's kisser would make her very happy indeed. “Aegis!” For a second, Gwen wondered if Walken was an Illusionist after all. A portion of the Magister's Shield detached itself, incandescently hovering half-a-meter in front of his body before catching her bolt like a baseball mitt. The two energies collided, the Lightning neutralising her prideful bolt without so much as a sizzle. “You’re a long, long way from Sobel if you want revenge, girl,” Walken snorted. “As for your battle-instincts, I have to wonder; what did Henry see in you?” “Void Sphere!” “Ha!” Walken dropped another Aegis. “That's more like it!” This time, her two-stage Evocation imploded. She watched as a nova-ring of paper-thin ink washed over Walken’s body, filling her heart with jubilation. "Ha-" She spat. Rationality returned in the next moment, draining the warmth from her bosoms. FUCK! Her fingers clenched and unclenched. She’d done it again! Did she go too far? What kind of trouble was she in now? But she was goaded! Could they blame her? He was using her dead Master to drive her into a corner! After a split-second of enveloping darkness, the Void-matter consumed itself. Walken was gone. Staring at the space her adversarial Instructor once occupied, Gwen baulked. GONE?! Her mind performed a double-take. Shouldn’t he be cut in half? “That was wonderfully executed, Gwen Song.” Walken’s voice came from above. She raised her head to see the man standing upside down on the vaulted ceiling. A last-minute D-D? An Illusion? Mind Magic? But she has her earrings. Gwen reminded herself. If that was an Illusion, her wards should have chimed. “You seem surprised.” Walken looked down at her. “Didn’t Henry tell you that at our level of mastery, we supersede the need for audible low-tier Invocations?” “You must feel so superior up on that ceiling,” Gwen retorted even as the hateful Magister invited her to launch another assault. “It must feel great bullying a novice like me." “Such an inane humility. ” Walken drifted from the ceiling via Feather Fall, landing with a grace that put Gwen's flight to shame. “Would you feel better if I had praised you? Patted your head? How is it that you still think yourself an Acolyte?” “Am I a Magus then?” “You’re knee-deep in carcasses, for one,” Walken mocked her, watching the girl flinch. “And you’ve consumed Monsters that would take Magus-tier casters, working in tandem, to defeat. You must be the most ill-informed Acolyte in the world to think of yourself so lowly. Does our little celebrity of Fudan not recognise her majesty?” Gwen bit her lower lip until it bruised. “Glad to see our training paying off already.” Walken’s speech grated on her nerves. “Tell me truly, do you desire to master your Affinity, Gwen?” “I do.” Gwen raised her chin defiantly. “Are you here to help? Or were you selling snake-oil to the Dean so that you could have a bed and roof over your head?” To her disappointment, her sarcastic riposte failed to connect. The man's ego was part-eel, part-ass. “There are three reasons for your imbalance,” Walken began, suddenly serious. The shift in atmosphere caught her off-guard. She waited for Walken to continue. “Well?” the Magister demanded. “Well, what?” “Didn’t Henry teach you any manners?” Walken scratched his neatly-cropped beard. “If you want help from someone, a little politeness could go a long way.” “From you?” “Is there another Magister here?” “Are you senile?” “I see,” Walken sighed. “I am sorry that we’ve wasted each other’s time. Good day, Miss Song. I am sure Mister Lu and the others could benefit from my efforts with a more assistive attitude.” To her surprise, Walken turned to leave. It’s a trick! The arrogant bastard! He knew she needed his help! Well, fuck him. Gwen rebuked Walken mentally. She could ask Ayxin! The Dragon-kin seemed like she had her shit together. Furthermore, she hadn't asked uncle Jun yet; maybe he'll figure something out. That makes no sense, you nincompoop! The better part of her brain screamed that Ayxin was a fucking Dragon-Mage. Why the fuck would a Dragon have problems with their nature? Being arrogant and prideful was the same as breathing. What could Ayxin teach her? How to hoard crystals? How to take over a mountain? How to use political clout to ensnare her uncle Jun? Which follicle on Ayxin's body showed that she had humility and control over her arrogance? On the other side of the training hall, Walken had arrived at the threshold. “Wait!” The better part of Gwen called out. She would have to give the old bastard this round. Walken's backward glance had the manner of a Bond villain. “...” Her voice caught in her throat. Walken reached for the door. “T-teach me!” “That’s my intent.” Walken's gaze turned her complexion as pink as pippins. “But its good to know we’re off to an amicable start.” She slowly exhaled. “Both in a professional capacity, and private capacity, I do wish that you may benefit from our relationship,” Walken spoke with a solemnity that surprised her. “To that end, I am going to be very honest with you, brutal even.” Though not entirely convinced, Gwen nodded. “Good, take a seat.” Her Instructor raised a hand, conjuring a table and two seats. The same trick as Dean Luo, Gwen recognised the chantless Conjure Object. The signature was distinct and familiar. Were the two related somehow? How did they know each other? She sat. A dark Grot. A circular table and two chairs. Herself, and a mentor. The nostalgia was too real. “Listen well.” Walken caught her attention by tapping the table audibly. “There is no 'cure' for your affinity.” “I am sorry?” Gwen stared at Walken. “There is no helping it.” Walken met her eyes. “That’s how it is.” “Are you fucking with me?!” she spluttered bewilderingly. “Language, young lady,” Walken chided his unhinged protégé. “Not to mention you should let others finish before blowing up. It looks to me that you have a patience problem too, do you possess excess Fire as well? A spot too much of the 'Yang', as the Orientals say?” “I…” Her teacher made a shushing motion. “I said there's no 'cure'. I did not say Affinity-traits are unmanageable.” Gwen pursed her lips. “To begin, there are three factors involved in your condition.” Walken raised a finger. “One - you are too young. Your body, as it were, isn’t capable of managing both the Draconic-essence and the Lightning-affinity. Take, for example, your exceptional strength and agility. No boon exists without consequence. If you exercise powers beyond what your natural body is capable of, then these very same powers will influence you in subtle ways. If you wish to have the proportional constitution of a Dragon, then you will suffer the arrogance of one. Such is life. Nothing is ever so convenient as a gain without a cost.” Gwen guiltily thought of all the times she had taken advantage of her new physique. Morning runs, moving furniture, punching Richard, pushing Dai, walking in four-inch stiletto heels around campus without so much as a pinched toe. “Two - your Spell List and theory-craft are atrociously mismanaged. A Mage, even a genius one, slowly acquires spells throughout his or her long years. Take, for example, Magister Larsen. How long did you think it took for him to progress his Signature Magic? I’ve met the man in person so that you know. He became a Magus at twenty-three, perfected Lightning Sphere at twenty-nine, then Ball Lightning at thirty-four. How about you? Buoyed by your affinity and your draconic body, you throw around spells that took the man three decades to achieve-” “I learned the spells before-” “The point,” Walken interrupted her protest. “Is that you’re a supernaturally-powerful child wielding a sword twice your height. You possess no finesses. You are a brute, a bruiser, a copy-cat abusing powers beyond your ken, throwing invocations like boulders. Neither your physical nor your Astral Body has had time to accustom itself to the growth of your affinity, which is why you’re so easily influenced.” She groaned. Walken's advice was connecting all the dots she couldn't previously align. “Finally, though this is only a theory. I suspect Henry never intended to let either of your Elemental Affinity exceed the other to this extent.” “Master had arranged for that?” Walken leaned in from across the table. “What affinity were you while under your Master’s care?” “3-Lightning and 3-Void, then 4-Lightning and 4-Void…” Gwen tried her best to recollect Henry’s estimate. She never did receive an exact numerical value then, nor did she obsess over her ‘statistics’. Other than her very first evaluations, she had never recalled Henry fussing over her numbers like her instructors in Fudan. Likewise, he had restricted her to a pragmatic set of useful spells. She had never felt rushed or short on time, not even when the Inter-high competition loomed. It was heaven and hell compared to her present state of affairs. “Do you believe there was a purpose to it keeping your affinities so closely aligned?” Gwen blinked. Was there a ‘purpose’? She had no idea. Alesia and Gunther both possessed single-elements. Alesia was a Fire Mage through and through; even her Master had been worried about how she reacted around others and had shielded Alesia from situations where her temperament would adversely impact her Quests. As for Gunther, his affinity appeared more boon than bane. For his youngest Apprentice, her Master had always favoured her wit, intelligence and charm over her ability with spells. Gwen had taken Henry's adoration as the natural way of things. After all, Gunther took care of the big problems, while Alesia was always available as a battering ram when the need arose. How plausible was the application of her Master's Middle Path to her Elemental Talents? Could the two even correlate? Balance in all things? Had Henry ever mentioned anything like that? “I see you know nothing,” Walken’s cynicism resumed. “Shame. I'd thought the two of you closer.” “What would you know about that?” Gwen fought down a taste of bile, fighting a thorn digging at her bosom. “Enough to suspect that Henry knew what he was doing,” the Magister candidly apprised her past. “Your Master wasn’t one for academic publications or CCs, though he has been around for a very, very long time.” “What do you mean by that?" “Oh come on, Henry didn't even tell you his age? How old do you suppose someone called Deathless Henry could be?” Swimming upstream against her simmering ire, Gwen hazarded a guess. Since his tryst with Sobel happened in the 1970s, she’d place her Master as an early 1940s guy. “Seventy-something,” she declared. "Elizabeth was almost a decade younger, I recall." Walken laughed. “A keen estimate.” He snickered. “The data I obtained from the Ministry of Records for Sobel showed that she was born in 1952, making her twenty-four when Noosa Heads happened in 1976. A young noblewoman, at the prime of her life! As for your Master, records state that the late Marshall Kilroy was thirty-six at the time.” Eh? Gwen wrinkled her nose. If Sobel followed her Master out of London a few years prior, wouldn’t that mean 'Lillybird' was in her twenties, perhaps her teens? “Mages, especially powerful individuals, have no difficulty in accessing life-extending ingredients,” Walken continued. “If your Master perished in his seventies, why was his appearance so venerable? Why the ironic moniker?” “Elizabeth had mortally wounded him,” Gwen remarked, withholding details in case Walken was attempting to milk her for intelligence. “Of course, we all know that. The man drinks his Golden Mead like water!” The Magister knocked the table with his fingertips. “How is it that we call him Deathless Henry?” “He’s a Plant Mage,” Gwen retorted. “He can regenerate wounds and tap into the essence of life via Sufina. I've seen it!” Walken admired her impetuosity with amusement. “How presumptuous you profess to be! Are you suggesting that you know more about Henry Kilroy's magic than I, who has been his rival for a decade? How much time have you spent with him? Less time than he and I have had meetings!” Gwen stared at her fingers, refuting Walken’s goading, refusing the satisfaction the man must derive from degrading her. “Think about it, child,” Walken implored. “Your Master: so wise, so powerful. He was there when the Tower System was founded, you know. That was in 72’ after humanity managed to wrestle our capitals from the Beast Tide. Do you recall your history lessons? First to activate was the converted Tower of London, then Paris, Munich, Rome, The Acropolis in Greece, by the time Sydney got its Tower, it was 1982. When in 68' me and my alumni erected Oxford University's faux-Tower, you know who I saw? Henry Kilroy, not a young man, but certainly a man much older than I was. Mid-thirties, perhaps? Who knows? Already, he stood beside my House-master. Imagine my surprise when I met him again in 73’ during the Coral Sea Reclamation! He had held jurisdiction over the entire northern Front of the Brisbane Line! First as a Commander, then a Marshall!” “I don’t understand,” Gwen interrupted. So much of Walken's words abrogated her knowledge of Henry's past. “What are you trying to say?” “I am not too sure myself.” Walken leaned back in his chair, then faced her with both hands splayed. “Sobel, Kilroy. Void Magic. There’s history there that you and I do not know and lack the means to excavate. I doubt even Gunther knew your Master's history.” Gwen opened and shut her mouth a few times. Walken was right, the bastard was a prick, but he wasn't wrong. She vividly recalled that Gunther had been caught flatfooted by Paul Chandler as well. “At any rate, good talk.” The Magister patted his knees. "Let me know if you want to continue." Walken studied the girl's conflicted, confused eyes, then rose so that he stood over her. When after a minute an answer failed to present itself, he walked beside his pale-faced mentee. “You know, I was there when you first came to the Tower in April. I saw you teleport into the Tower along with De Botton. I had my eye on you then. The scent permeating from your body was unmistakable." "What do you mean?" Scent? She gave her collar a quick sniff. “Imagine, Gwen, if Alesia hadn't acted her insane self. You could have come to see me right after Henry. I would have offered you so much more, Gwen, knowing who you are and what you could do, I would have-" "No!" She pushed herself from the chair, turning to face Walken with her amber-emerald pupils. "Don't you dare!" "You and I..." Walken raised a hand both to summon his Familiar and to Message the Administration Desk. "Operator, Instruction mode." Walken’s Winged Serpent materialised, immediately flocking to Gwen with a passion unbecoming of someone else's high-tier draconic-Spirit. “Tssss! Gwen! Treat! Treat!” Gwen battered the serpent away. She wasn't in the mood. The room thrummed. Two Astral Projections appeared on the floor. “!” Her gasp was audible. She could see Walken’s refraction below! The Magister was opening himself to her, showing her his Astral Soul! What was the man thinking? She was an enemy! She wanted his head on a silver platter! Unlike her dancer’s sculpture, Walken’s Astral silhouette was a sagely male figure surrounded by his elements. Within surrounding streams of companionable Air floated thunderous clouds that sparked and glowed with Lightning. An Air Mage! Gwen observed. And via Aella, Walken tapped into the Gate of Lightning as well. From what she could see, Walken and Aella's Master-Familiar sympathy put her and her creatures to shame. But more than magic, it was Walken’s candid transparency that stunned her. Not even Gunther had shown her his Astral Soul. She had never seen Yue's or Elvia's this distinctly. It was only her Master's and Alesia's that she'd ever witnessed up close and with such intimacy. "Bring out Ariel, Gwen." Obedient and dazed, she obliged. "EE! EEE!" Ariel flowed toward Aella, muzzling the serpent's wings as Aella nuzzled Ariel's horns. “You and I…” Walken willed his Winged Serpent to approach Ariel. A viridescent spark passed between them. “EEeee!” Ariel flew into a frenzy of uncontrollable joy. “Kin! Kin!” Aella hissed, dancing back and forth. "EE! EE!" Ariel followed suit, swishing its tail. There as no mistaking the smell of eucalyptus and sea salt permeating her senses. It was the Essence of a sunburnt country, a land of sweeping plains; of rugged mountain ranges, droughts and flooding rains. The Essence flowing from Aella was mana drawn from a red earth singing and Dreaming of a vast brown land. “I wonder.” Walken stood with both his hands behind his back. “I wonder what would have happened then if you had not fought my invitation. If De Botton had not attacked my men, and we had the opportunity to begin as allies. Would it have been possible, that you would have become my Apprentice, my Kin? If so, would Sydney have happened at all? Would Henry still be alive?”

“It’s called creative-art therapy.” Dr Siobhan Monroe ignored her client's laughter, bearing her ridicule with the patience of a saint. Her client, as usual, wasn’t taking her disorder seriously. “I am not making fun of you, Gwen, give it a go.” “Fingerpainting? Really?” Siobhan pointed at the overlarge canvas. “You did say you couldn’t paint even if your life depended on it. Nonetheless, the therapeutic outcome is valid.” “Oh, come on.” Her client gave her the biggest, broadest smile she could muster. “I’ve been doing very well, you should know. The Celexa’s keeping a tight lid on things. It's fine.” “My job is to wean you off the pharmaceuticals, not make you dependent,” Siobhan reminded her client. “Now be a good girl and let's dredge up some of that abyssal oil you keep talking about.” “Siobhan, I paid for an hour with you - I am literally wearing Chanel in white, and you want me to finger-paint while you talk shop about my father. Really?” “I got you a single-use raincoat.” Dr Monroe pointed to the clear plastic overcoat. “Don’t forget, you’re paying me very well. Imagine all that money going to waste. Your tendency for disassociation isn’t something I made up, Gwen. You’ll drown in it if you never touch the bottom.” “Arrrgh! Fine! You know me too well,” her client grumbled. “What are you, my psychologist?” The two women laughed. Siobhan knew she shouldn't be getting close to her clients, but Gwen was exceptionally personable. Across the table, Dr Monroe's patient obediently slipped into the transparent rain-coat. “I hope you’re ready.” Her patient stuck her hand into the cold, congealing acrylic. “I am in the mood for Edvard Munch.” "Would Sydney have happened at all?" Time dilated. At first, her mind grew hot with incandescence. Every word, every spittle issuing forth from Walken’s mouth added fuel to her raging bushfire. Her retorts blurred and blended until each refutation she had prepared to rebuke Walken’s accusation grew fuzzy and indistinct. What had been anger blossomed into doubt, then from doubt came fear, viscous and sticky, clinging onto her conscience with the consistency of tar, slinking up her thighs, throttling her throat. Meanwhile, looming above her, Magister Walken watched like a rock-spider. "Would Henry still be alive?” Gwen wilted at the weight of his allegations. Instantly, her complexion grew pallid; her pupils contracted, her petal-pink lips gasped; the blood in her torso froze, cold perspiration permeated the sheer fabric of her blouse, and her feet grew weightless. Then came a vertiginous sensation of falling and whirling, and that was when she recalled the portrait she had painted for Dr Monroe. She had wanted to do 'The Scream', but instead, she painted a big black vortex, round and round, swishing and swirling until half the canvas was black. "That's your panic attack." Dr Monroe was beyond satisfied. "Now you know what it looks like." How strange that she had forgotten all about it. Dr Monroe had even billed her for the second hour. Was her Almudj's Essence the source of her superior recall, or her Ioun Stone of Clarified Thought, or something else? "Gwen?" At the sound of the Magister's voice, her mind grew as cold as a slice of eldritch ice: shame, regret, remorse - all of her stifling, maddening emotions suddenly drained away as though a plug had been pulled. Her vertigo receded. Two years ago, she would have folded like origami, then from that compressed space would emerge a hungering Void, seeking to consume something, anything, trying to fill the uncertain emptiness. But the Gwen of today wasn’t the mewling girl-child of yesteryear. She had friends: Elvia, Yue, Lulan, Mia and the others. She had a family: Babulya, Petra, Richard, Mina and Tao, Guo and Percy. She had companions like Alesia and Gunther. As for Walken, the man was and still is a lying sack of lukewarm shit, and she shouldn't trust him beyond how far she could blast him. What dead and unenterprising eyes the man possessed, Gwen cocked her head slightly to get a better look. Where’s his conviction? If she had to convince someone that their loved one had been a liar, a crook, the black hand behind a world of misery, her pupils would burn with belief, her irises aflame with fervour. But Walken’s orbs were two lumps of deadened charcoal. It was the mark of a man who had never believed in anything in his life, living from day to day, making faces to meet the faces that he meets. Creed without credence lacked all credibility. It was Henry who taught her that. Comparatively, her Master was a firm believer in words. By both their reckoning, great men with great oratory had changed the flow of history, made possible the impossible, freed the million-multitudes from slavery, ignited dreams, incited revolutions, immortalised their ideas for better or worse. In her old world, anyone with the inclination and the interest could become a student of history’s greatest wordsmiths. Some were fictional, crafted by old Masters to inspire and teach. Others were the vanguards of progress, freeing others even as they remained imprisoned behind walls of segregation and prejudice. Thusly shielded by the great wisdom of her old world and bulwarked by the love of family and friends, how could Walken’s venom work its sinister virulence? Did he expect that she would turn to him instead? Now caught by the cold logic of hindsight, she reeled from the onion-stench of Walken’s lie-strewn mouth. As a young girl, she wouldn’t have recognised his ploy, but how could a 21st-century woman with a half-decade long history of therapy have missed an arrogant prick’s attempt to gaslight her? Within Walken's play, she was Paula Alquist; Walken fancied himself the insidious Sergius Bauer, the murderer of her mother, and her fealty was the jewel he sought. Through insults and rewards, Walken was wearing her down, using everything she held dear as ammunition, tossing in morsels of truth to dim her lights, telling her that she was crazy, insane, unstable, while convincing her that her beloved Master was a liar. Had Walken taken her for a child? But of course, that was the point. Wasn't it? She was in the body of an adolescent. Her comely face and nubile body were naturally disarming. What had Walken said? That she was a supernaturally-powerful child wielding a sword twice her height? Wouldn’t it be a riot if he knew that she was wielding a mind twice her age, filled to the brim with otherworldly knowledge? Gwen moistened her eyes to disguise the fact that her lucidity had returned, then took the instance of Walken’s smug satisfaction to lay down plots and inductions of her own. Walken had the knowledge she wanted, but she wasn't willing to pretend none of this happened, nor could she tell him to fuck right off back to his swamp. Rather, she wanted satisfaction, retribution, and to see that smug smile wiped off his fucking face. “Ariel! Get away from that thing!” she screeched at her Familiar to separate from Aella. “That thing may be kin, but it’s less than kind!” “Shaa!” A materialised Caliban came between the Kirin and its amorous companion. “EEE?” Ariel pulled itself away, unwilling to follow its Master’s unfeeling demand. “Eee! Eee!” Her Kirin was upset, but there was no helping it. The feeble essence emitted by Aella the Couatl was real. It possessed a smidgen of the rainbow serpent’s colours, like a long-lost relative one immediately recognised because she had her mother’s eyes. It was this specific energy that Walken had used to abuse her senses, to warp her sense of reality. “Ariel, Caliban! Come back!” Her creatures were honest to a fault and unsuited to deception. In hindsight, Gwen realised that was also why Walken had allowed his Familiar to become acquainted with her. It was because Aella was entirely ‘innocent’ and by association, she wouldn’t doubt his ‘honest’ intentions. “Play!” Aella cooed at her. “Sorry, Aella.” She brushed away one of its enormous wings. “I am not feeling well.” Cycling a few motes of Void was enough to turn her skin ashen, effecting a snail-sheen of sweat across her face, her hands, and her thighs. “Gwen.” Walken’s mask grew pregnant with worry. “Are you feeling alright?” “I don’t know.” She smiled at him with trembling lips. Her hands were shaking. Was it attributed to her narrowly missed psychosis? Or was she unnerved by her attempt at deception? “I don’t know anything anymore.” “Well, let me give you something to tide you over.” Walken took her hand, then placed something in the midst of her palm. The touch of the hateful man’s fingers seared her skin like a branding iron. It took everything in her power to stop herself from gagging. A Message Orb. It was another Message Orb. So the positive reinforcement for her pliantness was another one of her Master's Ioun Stones. “Sir?” “I have many more.” Walken touched her hair in a fatherly manner. Reflexively, she drew away. It was too much. Thankfully, her manipulator chose to keep his distance, likely not wishing to startle his victim. “I hear you have made a lot of crystals Gwen.” Walken returned to his seat. "Your appetite for economics can only be described as draconic." “I did, Sir.” Gwen lowered her chin, then peeked at her adversarial advisor in a way that emphasised her passivity. “A girl’s gotta eat." “Ha, you’ve got that right. I mean no offence, child, but your Master’s Credo, the Middle Path, is not suited for one as naturally avaricious as you. Still, if you wish to persist, I want you to know I’ll do my best to help you.” Unsure of what to say, Gwen touched a finger to a corner of her eye, smearing some of her make up. When she looked up again, she was the very picture of pity. Opposite, Walken caught the despair and disillusion in her vacant pupils, swallowing before he could continue. “I have a proposal: a hypothesis: provable only through practice. I do not know if the method will succeed, so you will have to trust me. I know that’s hard, perhaps impossible, but such is the hand you've been dealt. There are few people alive who possess the same affinity, talent and blessings as you and I.” She hugged her chest so as to prevent herself from physically unscrewing the man’s head like a lightbulb. Should she agree? She needed time. “No, don’t answer yet.” Walken reached out, then with great gentleness, placed a hand on the stunned girl’s shoulders. His victim shuddered. “Think on it.” Then cooly, his objective accomplished, Walken left. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. When Gwen felt relaxed enough to breathe again, she was alone. Suppressing her turbulent impulses, she cupped the Ioun Stone in her hand and activated the glyph for playback. “Eric,” her Master’s voice floated through the air. He sounded younger, more robust than the previous recording. “Here’s the inventory I’ve set up for the Seventh Expedition. We don’t know if the Divination Towers will be up in time, so I am having this delivered to you in person. Here’s what I managed to commandeer…” After a mind-numbing ten minutes of army rations, blankets, potions, low-tier magic items of convenience, clothing, transport and quasi-magical implements, Gwen confirmed her disappointment. Walken thought a recording of Henry reading out a grocery list was enough to bribe her over? Fidgeting with the stone, she evaluated her lack-lustre performance. To think two years after she had a freak out at Hyde Park, Walken had almost triggered another Void-leak. Were it not for the friends and family she now had, she would have dived into that dark abyss and given herself to whatever old and forgotten thing that lurked in the Void. With her affinity and her vitality now, what would have happened? Back in her old world, Dr Monroe would have called it a Depersonalization episode, a moment of manic hysteria accompanied by a sudden divorce from one’s physicality, becoming alienated from feelings and emotions, acting out in ways uncontrollable by the conscious psyche. Likewise, Dr Monroe had said that if she could learn to trust, and if she could normalise her interpersonal dependencies, then her episodes would lessen, then cease. Five years and one inter-dimensional reincarnation later, her psychologist finally earned her $300 plus GST an hour consultation. As for what came next - Boil, broil, grill or sauté? How many ways could she cook the knowledge from Eric Walken? “God you look tired,” Petra remarked during breakfast. “What happened?” “Cutting back on my draconic-caffeine.” Gwen moaned, letting her head rest against the table. “Give me another cup.” “I don’t think regular coffee is going to help.” “Hahaha… well, there’s not much else I can do at this point. Can’t let it get to my head,” Gwen lamented. “So, are you going back to Walken?” “Gotta pay him back three-fold.” Gwen forced herself to sit with her back straight. “In the meanwhile, he can sweat.” “Why’s he so interested in you?” Petra poured her another cup. "Here, I'll fix your hair." “Maybe I am his ticket back into the good graces of the Grey Faction?” Her cousin shrugged. “Maybe he thinks he could do a better job than my Master, or maybe it’s because the man's afraid. I know that if Alesia were here, one of them would probably be dead by now. If I am on his side, I can keep Alesia off his back.” “Now there’s someone with no concerns regarding their affinity-traits.” Petra chuckled. “True, I can see why Alesia chose to stay in the Frontier when she could have lived an easy life in a tier 1 city. She’s affinity 5 or 6, I think, probably 6, and it was higher when she had her Scarlet Caracal.” “What about your friend Yue?” “4, when she started. Maybe 5 now.” “And you’re edging toward 7…” “Ergh…” Gwen groaned. “Don’t remind me.” Petra laughed, pulling on Gwen's hair with a brush. “Yeah, yeah.” Gwen produced the Message Orb. “Say, can you take me through this thing again?” Gwen waited two weeks before she relented to booking Walken. First, she wanted to have a go at managing her Essence usage. Since acquiring Almudj’s blessing, she had subsisted, consciously or otherwise, on the trivialisation all of her physical ailments. More so than the euphoric pleasure of her Void Consumption, it was small blessings like not having to deal with menstrual cramps, fatigue, insomnia and indigestion that made Almudj’s powers endearing and highly addictive. It’s like Celexa and Buspar and Ibuprofen, taken together; a miracle panacea just like the old advert uses to say: ‘Have a cup of tea, a Bex and a good lie down, and she'll be right, mate.’ Now removed from the creature comfort of her draconic-cocaine, she became difficult, cranky, snarky, tired, meandering and forgetful all at once, confirming that her Essence did indeed impact her mental faculties. Her first slip-up occurred during overtime on Friday night, desiring to finish, she grew roaring drunk on Draconic-essence, high as a drake as she soared through the tedium of paperwork and practice, then took her co-workers out for all-night hot-pot. By Saturday, she had to acknowledge that her inhuman schedule was impossible. Between her blistering metabolism, her unending hunger and her insomnia, the only thing keeping her stitched together had been Almudj’s blessing. Meanwhile, heedless of her strained fortitude, classes continued unabated. Working as Ma's Teaching Assistant was soothing in a way. While Professor Ma gave his lectures, she graded papers, wrote tutorial questions, composed hypotheticals, and provided graphical data. A few lessons in, a nasty rumour spread about her relationship with the squib Professor, but then a public trashing of the mouth-breathers from her Duelling Club seniors quickly put a stop to that nonsense. Economics proved far more enterprising. As a socialist state, the CCP’s operatives ran most of its major industries as ‘state’ enterprises lorded over by Clan heads and ancient Scholar-bureaucratic families. As a land abundant with resources and low on Demi-humans, China had set itself up as the food-bowl of the South East Asian region, producing grain for export to the surrounding Frontiers. Though the course materials lauded the economic model used for mass-hydro farming, Gwen foresaw the very same mistakes Australia, America and Brazil had made in her world. When an enterprise or state began to pursue an endless annual increase to production, they turned to increasingly unsustainable methods to fuel supply. When expansion involved draining lakes, diverting rivers and flash-burning land for agricultural space, a downturn was inevitable. Like a coiled spring waiting to snap, the Demi-humans and Magical fauna pressed into the margins of what little wilderness that remained was a ticking Warding Glyph. In Gwen's opinion, the Su-Hang region was a case of having all of one’s eggs stashed precariously into a big basket. In her old world, rapid economic elevation of China’s poor had consumed most of its arable land by producing 20% of the world’s food supply in 7% of the world’s viable agricultural zones, relying heavily on industrial fertilisers. As for her present world, what if an extreme weather event happened? Or an angry, ancient dragon came to visit? Even if Shanghai had stores to outlast the year, what about the Frontier? Where would their supply of wheat, rice and maze come from? What would the NoMs eat when rice costs an HDM a kilo? Gwen proposed these enquiries to her fellow students and made them compose reports on the short term and long term economic outcomes of disaster-events. Later in the semester, she would teach them how to use data extrapolation for future-proofing. If even a single one of her peers managed to save a single District on the Frontier, then her job was done. Her Master would be proud. Concurrently, Divination progressed as well as could be expected. The class took place in one of the Expatriate-designed ‘International classrooms’ west of the main Fudan campus, in a private ‘training’ hall filled with Creole fetishes. The Instructor was a Caucasian matron by the name of Madam L’Croix, a bloodline Diviner like Mayuree. To improve her students' basic Detect Magic, the Instructor arranged incense burners with different incense sticks enchanted with an assortment of Schools of Magic. The students’ job then, was to use Mage Hand to pluck apart strands of magical-motes wafting through the air. The idea was to sharpen one's synaesthesia for Schools of Magic, discerning additional details like intensity, duration, and signature. Gwen had found the bead-wearing Diviner Magus charming, though her Instructor kept a polite distance from the infamous ‘Worm Handler’ of Fudan. When an opportunity arose, Gwen asked the woman if she had offended her in any way. The Diviner smiled and blinked her eyes unconvincingly. Just being professional, the Diviner informed her, though Gwen suspected her Instructor might have carelessly tossed some bones. Diviners! She felt a little insulted. They should stick to teaching pragmatics and keep their noses out of other people’s futures! “Everything alright, Miss Song?” It took Gwen a moment to re-orientate her surroundings. “Sorry,” she apologised. “I have no excuse.” Magister Lee had caught her napping, and the whole lecture had tuned in to watch. “Don’t burn yourself out.” Michio Lee’s face glowed with supernatural amiability. “You look like something my cat dragged in.” Gwen attempted to laugh off her embarrassment. She was truly sorry. Spell-shaping was one of her favourite classes at the moment. Michio was an excellent lecturer, and his contemporary theories were easy to understand. As for her coursework, the ultimate goal of the Advanced Spellshaping was for each student to genuinely attempt a Signature Spell. Nine-months on, even the self-absorbed Magister Lee had heard of Gwen’s prowess. The reason he was so nice was that Lee had proposed she create an original, minimum tier 4 Void-spell. “Lightning spells are a dime a dozen!” her instructor had informed her. “Now Void magic, that’s something to see! I want the characteristics of your Void magic used exclusively!” But what should she create? Two types of spells made up the Imperial Metric System. One, Magical phenomena translated from old magic into the IMS. Two, original spells created via the Imperial Metric System. Some ancient arcana, such as the ubiquitous Fire Ball, Magic Missile and Lightning Bolt, has since straddled both worlds, each with distinct metamorphic variations when used by Mages of varying skill and talent. Morden’s Hounds were a case-in-point for old, translated invocations. Lacking the pure pragmatism of newer magic, the spells of old tend to possess flair and flavour, persisting through the ages via a combination of mythoi, record keeping and tradition. New magic pointed to the late Magister Larsen’s Lightning Sphere and Ball Lightning, which drew upon increasingly more complex sigil-stack, but whose effects were explicit and simplified. In experimental theory, minor and major incantations were stripped and distilled into various effects. The effect, range, shape, area, form, time, duration and phenomena could all be customised if one knew the theory behind weaving a particular School’s arcane algorithm. The complication, alas, laid in creating a spell stable enough to manifest without blowing up, or having its feedback knock the caster’s teeth out. Most ‘creations’ did not succeed. Those that did seldom proved useful. And new invocations with safe, widely applicable utility were as rare as hen’s teeth. Petra and Wen’s Spell Cubes were a sterling example of a successful Signature creation with niche application and limited public utility. Even with all their combined genius, the material and effort invested into creating unique spells weren't likely to provide a profit in CCs or Crystals. The pursuit of knowledge, alas, remained a labour of love. But Gwen just wanted a high-score to pad her High Distinctions; if she could create a useful, original Void Magic akin to Flashbang, all the better. So far, her choices were limited. If she wished to create an original attack spell, she had to choose between Monster or personnel. Monster-wise, very few spells came close to the efficacy of Morden’s Hounds. As for anti-personnel magic, where was the line in the sand that separated useful utility and murderous psychopathy? Take, for example, her Void variant of Cloudkill. The very thought made her skin crawl. A tier 4 Void Magic. Gwen racked her brain without success, too tired to think. Maybe she could milk an idea out of Walken? In all honesty, she’ll have to sleep on it. “…” For the second time, the rest of the lecture fell into a curious silence. Magister Lee’s chiselled jaws clenched. His Radiant Aura flared, forcing those sitting too close to shield their eyes. Luo’s pompous prodigy had fallen asleep, again! Not only that, it looked as though she was dreaming! “If the Middle Faction outnumber the others, why not force the matter?” Gwen sat demurely in a low-back chair, having her hair braided by Sufina’s long, twig-like fingers. Just now, she had been conversing with Henry about the Middle Faction’s ongoing feuds with the Militants and the Greys. “That’s not how we work.” Henry sipped his Golden Mead. “The sensible centre isn’t a position; it’s a compromise. Even within our Faction, there are those who favour the Demi-humans, those who love or loathe the NoMs, and those hungry for conquest.” “Wouldn’t that make our Faction’s influence unstable?” Gwen furrowed her brows. How can anyone get anything done if no one can agree on a position? “Ah, good question.” Her Master amused himself with the sight of Sufina consulting a salon-magazine. “In truth, our vulnerability is also the source of our flexibility. Those from the Militant Faction owe us from when we had sided with them on matters of mutual benefits - like the Purge of Katoomba. Walken’s Faction owes us for barring the Militant Faction from the Central Coast, where the Greys had set up a commodity-exchange with the Sandskin Mermen Tribe. Each time, we benefit a little, here and there, keeping the peace, slowly ratcheting up our position.” “Oh, I get it!” Gwen nodded enthusiastically. Sufina slapped her head, demanding she stay still. “We’re putting the other Factions first, going for win-wins wherever possible. That way, we build up resources and goodwill no matter which Faction is taking the initiative. By the same measure, we don’t have to commit too much of our resources, allowing us always to keep a hand in reserve!” “And if we are not in agreement with our fellows?” Henry questioned his Apprentice. Gwen paused. In the next moment, her eyes flamed with industry. “We’ll leave them be if they succeed. Negotiation support in the case of a pyrrhic victory, or save their asses to preserve the balance!” “Excellent!” Henry ruffled her hair. “Well done!” “Bloody hell!” Sufina screeched. “Henry! Really?!” “Sorry, Sufi.” “Haha, don’t worry, Sufina, maybe I can do yours.” Gwen shook out her voluminous dark tresses, turning, she caught a handful of Sufina's 'hair'. Sufina considered her offer with scepticism, her prehensile, vine-like hair forming instantly into a stylish Scandinavian triple-braid. “Alright, alright.” Gwen sat back down. “I am all yours.” Gwen opened her eyes. There was a group of students mobbing her. Or rather, they were mobbing Caliban and Ariel, taking advantage of the fact that she had passed out to play with her materialised, no longer invisible Familiars. Ariel was receiving the benediction of its worshippers, while Caliban twirled her hair with its tail. Her brain slotted back into place. “Miss Song, you’re awake.” A guilty member of Lee’s lecture stepped away from Ariel. “We were… er… looking after your Familiars for you.” “Oh? Ah…” Gwen opened and shut her mouth a few times. Shit! She had fallen asleep in Lee’s lecture. What’s more, it was a Wednesday! FUCK! She was late for work! ‘Ding!’ ‘Ding!’ ‘Ding!’ ‘Ding!’ Her Message Device chimed now that she was awake. Ruì's voice blossomed beside her ear. “Ma’am! You’ve got a meeting with Magus Maymaruya at 3 PM!” “Ma’am. Should I reschedule?” “Ma’am, Magus Maymaruya says he’ll wait, but it’s been an hour…” “God damn it!” She pumped herself full of Almudj’s Essence, then bolted from the room. “Ruì! Tell Dai and Ken I’ll be right in! Tell Magus Maymaruya I AM SORRY!” March came in like a lamb, filling the campus with blossoms, dispelling the long winter. Gwen took her time getting to the training hall, draining an XL milk tea of human kindness along the way before tossing the emptied vessel into a bin. At the double-glass doors of the training hall, she examined her reflection. Dressing for conflict, Gwen had picked out a white and floral sundress with an off-shoulder neckline to accentuate her springtime youth. She even bought a broad-brimmed hat. Since Walken convinced himself that was she was an emotional, adolescent airhead; she would play the part and make an honest man out of her instructor. This time, for round 2, she wouldn't be Antonio. This time, she would be Portia, and he would be her Shylock.

“A whole month! I was beginning to worry if you would ever make it," Walken's reprimand snapped like a cane, his tone equally accusatory and paternal. "You mustn't let the pride control you. There's no shame in asking for aid." A month? Gwen averted her gaze. Just as she suspected, the old man had grown paranoid after she had left him neglected for a fortnight. By the same measure, his persistent attempt to undermine her confidence indicated a sustained interest at dimming her lights. “Please accept my apology, Master Walken.” Her temple throbbed even as the platitude left her glossed lips. “Between classes and my part-time work, I’ve barely slept. And you're right. I tried to deal with my problem on my own, but I couldn't.” “Then you have invested your time poorly,” Walken repeated his reprimand, then strolled about her person, inspecting her appearance and finding her attire lacking in conviction. “I see you're dressed to please. Do you have somewhere more important to go? I'd figured you more attentive to your studies." "I am going out..." Walken's glare would have made an Evil-Eye proud. Gwen lowered her eyes and forced herself to focus on a point between her feet, glad that her disarming choice of floral, combined with her demure compliance, had tickled her target in just the right way. "Unlike you, I’ve spent the month researching your condition.” "Thank you, Sir. I am grateful." “As you should be. What I found-” Walken edged beside her, close enough for conspiracy. “Will require some verification on your part.” “You see, for sometime after my battle with Sobel, I became greatly interested in her ability to supersede the arcane fulcrum of Negative Energy. You of all people should know that Vitality-Mana consumption for high-tier AoEs cannot be sustained by low-Affinity users. For Sobel to deploy wide-range AoEs at Noosa Heads, or even against the Saurians, her affinity had to have reached 7 or higher.” “And at tier 7.” Walken indicated at her forehead. “There are characteristic symptoms. I suspect that for both you and Sobel, the root of your mutual instability lies with an irresponsible rise in Affinity; a theory that accounts for Henry's plans to pace your training by balancing both Lightning and Void." Gwen's ears perked up. The disparity of theory concerning the stability of her Void-talent, and indeed Spellcraft itself, was endlessly fascinating. Of her three instructors: her Master had forbidden haphazard experimentation, emphasising on intuition and natural growth. Wen's approach was entirely numerical, denoting that so long as she utilised 'N' Vitality, offset by corresponding positive energy, she should be fine. Now, as her third advisor, Walken instead pushed for an affinity-based solution: which made no sense unless he knew of a way to increase her elemental-sympathy, a process likely derived from Wen's revelatory papers. “Can you clarify, Sir?” she implored her haughty Instructor. "About Sobel, I mean." “The answer lies in the timeline of her demise.” Walken drew an invisible chart with his hands. “1976 was the Noosa Heads incident. 1972 was when Henry and I served on the Brisbane Line: he was a Field Commander, while I served with Command and Control, doing what Air Mages do best.” And out of harm's way, Gwen thought snidely. Meanwhile, her Master was knee-deep in corpses, commanding a stretch of the front a hundred kilometres long and four kilometres deep. “The Saurian Truce happened in the summer of 1972, meaning between Sobel’s first Awakening in winter and her surviving Noosa in 1976, no more than three years and five months later, your Master reported Sobel's passing in 1979.” Gwen finally realised what Walken was trying to get at. “Are you saying Master had a hand… in rearing Elizabeth?” “Undoubtedly,” Walken’s voice took on a hint of passion. “After Sydney, the Tower's Inquisitors discovered traces of a city-wide mandala, something that had been set up as a trigger for a strategic-class AoE. But during Noosa Heads, there was no way Sobel could have snuck into an unaffiliated base on a two-day visitation pass, not to mention the Mermen attack was entirely unprovoked and unforeseen. If so, how did she survive her magic? Even assuming it was self-perpetuating, the initial cost could have killed her outright.” Gwen thought of Jane's tortured confession. The girl had her back turned to Sobel, but it wasn't hard to imagine Sobel working through a few dozen Mages before she had enough to get her Black Sun jump-started. “The answer is that in the years both before and after 1972, your Master had been working with Sobel, helping her tame her new found element, just as he was helping you. Back in the 70s, we didn’t know much about affinity-traits. The few geniuses that were renowned had their quirks and idiosyncrasies - but they were prodigies. Why shouldn't they be different? Towers were still going up one by one; cities were undergoing reclamation. What knowledge the Magisters of Western Europe managed to accumulate couldn’t be disseminated safely and reliably. We didn't have data-slates or Divination Towers, and Message Orbs were hardly common. To save his wife, Henry had to improve her affinity until it trivialised her expenditure.” “That could explain why Sobel went mad in the end,” Gwen added to Walken's hypothesis, wondering how much Walken was in the know. "Care to elaborate?" Walken invited her to continue. Does he know about Hungary? She queried the man's eyes. What Walken knew had come from Faceless, but she had no idea if Faceless, fed a lifetime of resentment against her Master, was capable of anything other than a fabricated hyperbole. Conceivably, Walken's request was both a test and a desire for clarity. If so, she would tread lightly. “Master spoke of it in bits and pieces.” She fidgetted with her dress, misdirecting his attention from her lying eyes. Blatant deception remained a challenge for Gwen, so she had chosen instead to redact the truth. “Master said that in Eger, he, Mark, Agnes and my grandfather hunted down his wife after she started draining random people to feed her growing hunger.” “Did he speak of why her hunger grew out of control?” Walken enquired. His knowledge is incomplete, Gwen realised, noting the slight elevation in his tempo. Walken may have even spoken to Chandler at some point, but Gunther was hardly the type to leave a trail. “I don’t know,” Gwen confessed. “According to Master, it happened overnight.” She wasn’t about to say that against all expectation, Sobel had found herself pregnant and that in her desire to bear the future ‘Faceless’ to fruition, her Master's wife had embarked on a vitality-harvesting bender. If the world were to know that pregnancy could trigger such instability in a high-affinity Void Mage- Her face blanched at the thought. “I always suspected something had to have happened to Sobel,” Walken pondered aloud for his ward to hear. “When I first knew her, she had been a perfect English rose.” "You knew her?" "Both before and after Henry's intrusion into her life. As your Master's fiancèe, I knew her through dignitary functions. Before Brisbane, I had known of her while in England. She's the sole heir of a Baronet in Northumberland if I recall. I met her only once at a society-gathering, a childhood friend of mine, a future Countess, had planned a coming out soirée and Elizabeth tagged along." "I didn't know Elizabeth was gay before she met Master," she remarked with surprise, playing on Walken's archaism. "Maybe that's why she-" Walken opened and closed his mouth a few times; utterly flatfooted by her misunderstanding. "Coming out to society," his voice rose an octave. "Stupid girl!" "Sorry." She bit her lip. The things we do to please our men, Gwen sighed internally. It was a cynical truth that as an attractive young woman, the amount of effort she required to convince Walken of her naive simplicity was minimal. If she had been a Gunther-jawed young man, they'd be likely tearing each other apart by now. "If you recall, I attended a public school. And my family situation is... complicated." At least the girl's opening up to him; Walken considered Gwen's supreme embarrassment - though he was beginning to gain a deeper glimpse into the abyss that was the girl's bruised and battered psyche: a neglectful father, an abusive mother, and then a dead Master - she had done well to survive her Void talent in one piece. “I recall she was very meek.” The Magister's voice grew sympathetic. “As for your enquiry, all I can say is that Sobel was certainly the sort to attract a particular type of men.” Did he mean her Master? What type? Gwen knitted her brows slightly. What’s Walken getting at now? “You resemble Elizabeth, in many ways,” Walken continued, touching his chin contemplatively. “There’s a certain look, or quality; I should say, that you affect unconsciously. Have you never noticed that sometimes, men act strangely around you? They turn obsessive, jealous, or overbearing? You're a beautiful young woman, of course, but there's something unique to Void Mages, I noticed. A certain...” Walken then gave her the most fatherly expression of assurance he could muster. “Masochism?” Gwen blurted out her cousin's hypothesis, then immediately cursed her loose-lips, her face flushing with embarrassment. Watching her contradictions, her opponent grew considerably concerned. “It's a reasonable assumption, considering how so few of your kind survive to adulthood..." “Which Master offset by raising Sobel's Affinity," she smoothly steered the conversation back on track. “Ah yes,” Walken continued, taking her cue, equally eager to proceed past the awkward detour they had just taken. “As I was saying, Henry had to have found a way to increase Sobel's affinity. No matter her talent, there is no way to circumvent Allenberg’s Cost-Manifestation Quotient.” The Magister paused. “To wit, I had to consult with Sydney, trying to place your Master's training regime." "With Irene?” “That’s Magister Ferris to you,” Walken snapped. “You’d think Henry would have whipped some manners into you while he was busy picking away at your 'masochism'.” Gwen parried the psychic assault by not daring to meet Walken's eyes. Her opponent smirked as she clutched her dress distressingly. It was super effective. “It was Gunther Shultz, actually,” Walken continued off-handedly. “I am, after all, helping you in the IIUC. Magus Shultz likes to see you succeed as much as I. Sometimes, I am amazed at the restraint shown by those who walk the Tempered Path.” “Brother’s patience surprises me as well,” she grumbled. “It's a shame about that hellcat Sister of yours though; she's a right hellion. De Botton's lost her Caracal, didn't she? Had to drop the 'Scarlet' from her moniker. Now there’s someone I'd never figured for the Middle-Path.” Gwen felt her Almudj's Essence tickling her throat. How many times did he have to gaslight her before he was satisfied? How paranoid could he be? “Ah~, Alesia, the source of all our troubles," Walken continued to pry her weakness. "To think if she weren’t so blindly antagonistic, we would have profited each other in many ways. You could have been a liaison between Henry and myself, someone we both trusted, as it were.” Strewth, the gall of this guy, Gwen swallowed hard, forcing her hands to relax. Her distressed-Disney princess facade was keeping up reasonably well, though if she were to fidget any more vigorously with her dress, she'd tear it in half. Her Instructor chuckled. “But back to business. Gunther informed me that Henry had used a custom mandala for your twin-elements. After all, regular arrays account only for pulling one Familiar out of the aether. Looking at Ariel and Caliban, I see two pseudo-spirits in their infancy, each capable of growth. I guess your late Master knew that finding you a Lightning and Void Spirit is likely going to be impossible, not to mention they’d neutralise one another at the first opportunity.” If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. “Wait…” Gwen raised a speculative hand. “Caliban’s a Spirit?” “Of course.” Walken gave her a bemused look. “Why should Ariel be the only Spirit?” “That can’t be right. Caliban!” she called forth her Familiar. “Shaa!” Caliban coiled around her legs, its obsidian body stark against her white ankles. “Caliban, are you a Spirit?” “Shaaa?” “Can you bend this? Void Bolt!” She shot a sliver of Void-matter at a Force Barrier, imagining her Familiar bending her bolt like Beckham. Instead, Caliban turned to Walken, coiled to strike. SHIT! Her disappointment gave way to apprehension. The empathic honesty of Familiars was a troublesome thing. “SHAAA!” Caliban shrieked at the Magister menacingly. “What's it doing?” Walken studied her serpent as it opened its carapace and menaced him with barbed tentacles. “I am not doing anything.” Gwen shook her head vigorously, demanding Caliban calm the fuck down before it gave her game away. "Sometimes, Cali's got a mind of its own!" “Then Caliban must possess an Ego: ergo, Caliban should be a Spirit.” “But I can’t IFF my Void spells!” She complained desperately. Cali! She screamed internally. FRIEND! Well - Frenemy, she appended. But that might be too much for Caliban to understand. “A matter of time and methodology.” Walken smirked as the worm calmed considerably. “All you have to do is improve the animus of your Familiar.” “I don’t know how.” Gwen took the opportunity to pack her Familiar away. “Ah, but I think you do.” Her Instructor's grin grew wider. “You have access to crystals, or so I’ve heard - a great deal of it. I know of a way in which we can improve both your affinity and your familiar, striking two birds with one stone. It's expensive, but that shouldn't be an obstacle for you.” Gwen's heart skipped a beat. Walken, you bunch-backed toad! Her mind exalted. I’ve got your pound of flesh right here, you Je- Filthy Spider! “But crystals aren’t going to buy me Void Cores,” she fretted with her fingers. "No one knows if they even exist." “Don't be so ignorant, child. Cores aren’t the only things you can feast on.” Walken edged closer, his eyes glinting with triumph and mastery. “Am I right?” “Right…” Walken's outstretched hand reminded her of that scene when Aladdin had invited Jasmine for a late-night carpet ride. Only Gwen's date was the mangy old Jafar, and the old man's bird of paradise was a Winged Serpent. If he says 'do you trust me?' I am going to vomit on his shoes, Gwen thought. Thankfully, Walken wasn't nearly so romantic. Swallowing her revulsion, she took it, her fingers clammy and sweaty. Walken's brows pulled involuntarily. The man was a germaphobe. “Say the word,” Walken forced himself to squeezed her hand. “And I can offer you Demi-human... and human resources.” She stared at Walken; this time, her shock was entirely genuine. In all honesty, Gwen had expected more euphemism. “I am not a murderer,” Gwen whispered, still disbelieving her ears. “Squeamish? Don’t fret.” He warmed her frigid fingers paternally. “These are free-range products from the Frontier, harvested from the most ethical sources. Each one comes with a compliance guarantee, sealed and delivered in stasis. We can start modestly, and if indeed your talent can make use of them, our Faction is willing to invest in your future wholly and without reserve.” “But why?” Her voice drifted through the air, hanging by a silken thread. "Why me? Why should I trust you?" “I can be your guardian,” Walken promised. “And a friend.” When the girl failed to respond, Walken knew he had her against a cliff. With a final push, she would belong to the Grey Faction, where a single taste of the forbidden fruit would taint her in their colours, now and forever. “I can be as Henry was,” he swore with great solemnity, so much that he felt genuinely invested in his masochistic orphan. “I would be better than Henry. I would never mistreat you.” For a split-second, Gwen wondered if she had passed out from the sudden hypertension arresting her cardiovascular systems. “Enough!” she growled. “Enough?” Walken started. “Enough of what?” “Of your bullshit!” Gwen's retort cracked over Walken like a bullwhip. Dragon-fear poured from her body like a tide. Reflexively, Walken's knees faltered. Caught unaware, the Magister couldn't resist the natural compulsion of the girl's purer Essence. Alarmed, he realised she still held his hands, preventing him from casting somatic magic. “I am going to fucking kill you.” Gwen’s mouth was moving before she could think. “How can you remotely believe that you can replace my Master? Join your Faction? You’re dreaming!” Walken's expression shifted from surprise to anger to teeth-clenching anguish as Gwen ratcheted the pressure exerted by her hands, pressing the blood from Walken's fingers. “Release me,” he commanded her. The girl’s grasp was twin-vices interlocking his palm, sending blades of white-hot agony stabbing into his brain. “Gwen, listen to me, there’s no profit in your anger. I spoke in jest, okay? You’re too easily incensed, so much so that there’s no sport in it.” Further gouts of flaming fury blossomed in the furnace of her chest. Her Almudj’s Essence thrummed, thrilling her ear with the sound of hastened blood. No sport in it? A joke? Was the man daft? “Just you try.” Gwen let her mask drop. “How dare you gaslight me.” “Gas- what? You’re losing it!” Walken’s voice took on a higher octave, his eyes watering. “Gwen! It’s your Dragon-Essence. It’s controlling you! Fight it, for Henry's sake!” “Bloody hell, you’re so full of shit!” Gwen twisted her grip. “!” A current of Lightning-charged mana flooded into her body. But Walken’s mana lacked the purity of her natural affinity. Between Gwen's Essence-enhanced body and her au naturale Lightning-affinity, she withstood his assault with only a slight-numbness. 'Crack!' She crushed his off-hand. The full force of her pent-up Essence was formidable. “ARRRGH!” Walken desperately fought her death-grip, beads of sweat fell from his head like a spring-shower. “Gwen, how… how DARE YOU!” “And why wouldn't I dare?” Gwen screeched at him. “Come! Do your worst!” In the confusion that followed, she allowed the man to go. “Do you have a death wish?!” Walken materialised a Superior Healing Potion and stabbed it into his wrist. In the next moment, the Magister was upon her, his hand at her throat, his body swirling with Air, crackling with motes of Lightning. He was fast, almost too fast for her eyes to follow. The man’s mastery over Spellcraft was far beyond her ken. “Don’t hurt me!” She withdrew, suddenly afraid. With one hand at her slender neck, Walken paused. By now he had sensed that something was terribly awry. Why hadn't the girl erected a Shield? Did she realise she’d gone too far? As his mind cooled, he realised that her lips, glossy as they were, were curled in triumph. Shit! Walken baulked. What- In the next moment, to Walken's utter surprise, the girl took a step forward so that his outstretched hand pressed upon her neck, just above her collar-dimple. “Well?” Gwen mocked her target with emerald eyes infused with Essence. “You hunted me so untiredly, and now you pause for breath?” But her 'Gwenism' did not seem to have the impact she'd hoped. Walken’s tempestuous, rage-filled moment of irrationality receded as quickly as it had distended. In a way, it was immensely impressive. The man’s control over his emotions demonstrated that Walken had indeed mastered his Affinity-trait. “What’s gotten into you?” The Magister switched gears, reaching for her shoulders. “Oh, cut the crap, Walken.” Gwen rolled her eyes, brushing away his wayward hand. “Don't touch me. Let's stop the shit-shovelling, alright? It’s not like I don’t need you. I am just sick of all the crap that comes with your help. You're worse than bloat-ware.” Unexpectedly, Walken appeared struck by a sudden epiphany. “Are you being mind-controlled right now?” he demanded conspiratorially. “Who's in there right now? Are you willing to parley?” “Who-what? Don't be absurd” Gwen backed away. She tapped a finger at her temple. “There's no one in here-” Walken stared. “God damn it, _I am_ in here!” she stated seriously. “Me, Gwen Song.” The Magister's expression grew even more suspect. Now it was Gwen's turn to sigh. Was it that hard for Walken to believe that a teenager got one up on him? That he had lost? Was the theory that a bloody wizard had taken over her mind and was operating her like a finger-puppet easier to swallow than the fact that she had a mind of her own? Whatever the case, she would say her piece. The rest was up to Walken. “Magister,” she began her prepared speech. All the pieces she had planned were now in place. “I have a proposal.” “Alright, I am listening,” Walken remained on guard, both mentally and in the arcane sense. What if someone had one-upped him? He had heard that the Ashbringer's Dragon-consort was a user of Draconic-invocations: words of power tied to the creation of the Material world itself, unique to Mythic-class draconic-beings; if such a being- The girl began to speak. “You have knowledge and magic I want, and I can help you by emerging victorious in the IIUC, thereby ensuring you’ll be back in the good graces of important people,” Gwen kept her pitch low and her intonation perfect. “I want you to help me, really help me, without any of your manipulative bullshit. In return, I promise you full credit. Furthermore, when Alesia comes for you, I’ll do my best to ensure she keeps her vengeance in check, or at least give you a warning.” “Absurd!” Walken retorted. “What a ridiculous offer, why would I be afraid of Alesia de Botton?” “Because I’ll help her ambush you when you least expect it. Sure, maybe you're the superior Mage, but Alesia is tenacious. I’ll be astonished if she doesn’t blow up every venture you participate in, burn down every house you sleep in, turn to cinders every bed you lie in.” “…” What kind of absurd-logic was that?! Walken glared at the girl. Was this really the girl he’d try to sway to his side? What happened to the demure and pliant Void Mage with a history of histrionics? Who the hell was this Draconian that had replaced her? “Not only that,” Gwen continued. “I’ll make sure the relevant people get a hold of this-” “These are free-range products from the Frontier, harvested from the most ethical sources. Each one comes with a compliance certificate, sealed and delivered in stasis containers…” Walken’s voice played from a Message Orb hidden somewhere in the hem of her dress. Walken's expression grew rigid. He hadn’t even noticed! As devices predating Divination Towers, Ioun Stones had negligible traces of magic, not to mention the earlier models weren't of human origin. And to think he had presented it to her, bloody hell! “Are you threatening me, young lady?” Walken demanded, advancing on her. “Do you have a death wish?!” His voice answered him, followed by a girlish cry full of terror which unequivocally informed the listener of the circumstances under which the recording was made. “Don’t hurt me!” “You!” “Why would I be afraid of Alesia de Botton!” His retort mocked him. For a moment, the Magister imagined mincing the girl with a Blade Barrier. But then he would have to flee, living out the rest of his life in the Wildlands as a Rogue Mage. “I could just take that orb off you.” Walken changed the angle of his attack. “You can’t resist me.” “I’ll D-D out of here, screaming blue murder, in my birthday suit if I have to.” The girl smirked at him. “You’re welcome to chase me all across campus if you’d like. I mean, a disgraced Magister abusing a popular, beautiful student, the Worm… The Flower of Fudan! What would people think?” “You’re overestimating yourself.” Walken's forehead affected a sheen of sweat. “Give it here, now.” “Ha!” Gwen chuckled. “Over my dead body.” “That can be arranged-” She took a step forward. Walken backed away. The girl took another step forward, pushing herself against him until the Magister’s waxen face grew scarlet. “I could be bad to the bone,” Gwen remarked, her eyes boring into Walken's face, their nose almost touching. “Or I could be a good girl.” Walken straightened his posture. He wasn't a stubborn man. “Fine. I'll bite.” Gwen took a deep breath. Before anything, she had to draw the line. “I could Consume you,” she opened blankly. “I’ll be in trouble, a world of trouble. But its only trouble.” Walken’s mien grew grim. “Whereas you can’t silence me. Hell, you can’t even maim me or hurt me, at least not bad enough to count.” She kept her tone plain and simple. “If you did, Gunther, Alesia, my grandparents, Uncle Jun the Ashbringer, and by extension Ayxin, will hunt you down to the ends of the earth.” Her opponent chose to remain mum. “Besides, it was you who initiated the difficulties between us. What had been Dean Luo’s offer? Take us through the IIUC, and you get to work yourself into the good graces of your Faction? Then what? Receive a position in China? Is that what he promised?” “This and that,” Walken confessed. “And instead, you took advantage of me… and my weakness,” Gwen spat the word between her pearly teeth with a hiss. “I am a quarter your age. Does that make you proud? The mighty Magister Walken? A bully and a liar?” “I haven't lied to you.” “Maybe not, but the truth you are peddling is awfully diluted.” “Gwen…” “Eric…” Gwen affected the same tone that her Master liked to use in his recordings, an effect which made Walken blink before he grew suddenly scarlet. “You still don't get it. We’re not in a position of mentor and mentee, nor a position of superior to a subordinate.” “You and I…” she allowed the anaphora to linger, mocking Walken’s use of the words. “Are nothing alike. You and I: Eric, are at best companions rowing together up shit creek. We are equal in that regard. My benefit is your benefit; your gain is my gain. We both have to pull our weight and not drag each other down. If you think to profit from my loss, then you’re in for a world of hurt. Old Friend.” Walken had to back-paddle as to take in the entirety of the girl within the scope of his vision. On the surface, what presented itself was an exquisite combination of dark hair, striking emerald eyes, a breathtakingly aesthetic mien and nubile limbs extending from a feminine sundress. There was no hint of Sobel in Henry's old apprentice now. Instead, her presence felt far older, elemental. If he had not already seen her panicked and afraid, Walken would have thought her a Polymorphed dragon-kin, toying with his hopes and aspirations, laughing internally while he, Eric Walken, struggled like a vermin trapped by an Adhesion cantrip. There was no doubt about his blunder now. He had indeed entered their relationship full of purpose to empower the girl through her IIUC ordeal- But he couldn't help himself. It was true what they say: old habits died hard. When the moment arrived, when she stood before him, a bee box buzzing with indeterminate dark things thrumming to escape, the temptation proved too much. The girl had so much hurt in her that it threatened to spill like overwrought honey, the unintelligible thrumming of her aggression was a mob of maniacs. He’d envisioned himself the salvation she sought, a Bee Keeper. If he could take Henry’s Apprentice for his own, it would be the ultimate triumph against an existence he could have never bested, more so in the wake of Kilroy's passing. When Gwen had paled and shuddered at his every word, that old fancy had seduced him like the sweetest nectar. Walken did not sympathise with Henry’s manifesto, nor could he convince his old rival to believe in his. When he saw the girl, saw the gaping gash in her psyche, he instantly knew that she was the means by which he could finally put an old opposition to peace, not to mention mending his esteem. Watching her defiant eyes, Walken felt full of ambivalence that the old fox had indeed found a kit worthy of continuing their antagonism. But the time for moping had passed. He would yield, for now. Gwen was right. Her allies in both Australia and China were strong; her higher ground was unassailable. Of course, if they were successful in their suit, as Fudan's advisor, he would accompany the team overseas: to Japan, to Korea, to North and South America, and inevitably, onto England. And in England- “Alright, Gwen. You win.” He extended a hand. “Truce.” The girl took it; this time, she spared his fingers. “Thank you.” The girl's eyes glinted mischievously, so much so that Walken almost considered withdrawing his amnesty. “More of a ceasefire, I’d say, but I do look forward to working with you, Eric.”

Now considerably calmer, Gwen and Walken agreed that they would reconvene the next day to continue her lessons, each desiring space and time to digest their new partnership. Once outside, the two parted with an appearance of amiability, drawing mixed glances from the training hall's administration staff. Since arriving a semester ago, Fudan's Worm Handler had become notorious for her draconian training regime. Some admired her panache, others her appearance, but most of all, they drooled over the troop of Lecturers and Instructors that visited her on the regular. Perhaps, some joked sourly; there was good cause for her auspicious moniker. As for Gwen herself, she first made sure Walken was truly away, then conveyed herself to the privacy of the back gardens, shivering uncontrollably while her adrenaline receded. The recovery was gradual, supplemented by the spring-time sun, her shuddering nerves subsiding as sensation returned to her clammy fingers. When she felt well enough, an additional injection of Almudj’s Essence fortified her nerves so that she no longer felt like throwing up. In that final moment of confrontation with Walken, she had been fully prepared to Dimension Door into the Dean’s Office, damning all consequence. All in all, she had learned something today - it was mentally, physically, and spiritually exhausting to play the Lady Macbeth. That and she really should have held off on the XL milk-tea-plus-cream of human kindness before meeting with Walken. After a few minutes, her legs stabilised, Gwen mentally checked her schedule, then returned home for some much-deserved lie-down. The same afternoon, Gwen found herself back at the office. Still buzzed by the aftermath of taming a shrewish Magister, she slipped into her office-garbs, hoping the monotony of work would put her mind at ease. In the three months since her induction, the development of Tonglv had ballooned. As Professor Ma had suspected, it was impossible to keep the news of the project’s profitability under wraps, which meant by now the Clans and Houses had flocked to Nantong like vultures to carrion. So far, with sufficient foresight, the triumvirate of Patriarch Fung, Magister Chen and Vice-Chair Tu, backed by James Ma’s oversight, had kept the accounts arrayed. When her Quarterly-Progress Report reached its final ten pages, however, her attention was drawn to a segment under the sub-title Personnel Liquidation, marked under Human Resource. When Gwen began to read the record in detail, she came vis-a-vis with no less than a hundred names. Chen Hui - Embezzlement Lei De - Fraud Zhan Shun - Fraud, Bribery and Corruption, Manslaughter Tan Zhong - Embezzlement Fan Huan - Bribery and Corruption. Dong Luoyang - Market abuse and Insider Trading Liang Liuxian - Embezzlement Zhu Zhenya - Fraud, Insider Trading Xuan Chao - Fraudulent Record Keeping Yan Ming - Fraudulent Record Keeping The list went on for pages. Those whose crimes were below 1000 HDMs received a strike in their Party record, meaning their careers as industry officials were effectively over. For those whose offence exceeded 1000 HDMs, the standard punishment was being earmarked for the Front, returning only after achieving notable contributions to the state. For those with stacked-indictments, condemnation was life-long. Of the hundred people, ninety were Mages. The sight of names paired with crimes and a summation of their punishments was enough to make her feel ill. How can these people be so thoughtless in their pursuit of money? Did they think Patriarch Fung would tolerate their parasitic existences when the man had put his whole Clan on the line? “Ruì.” She fired an enquiry at her assistant, morbid in her curiosity. “How much crystal currency until you're willing to defraud us? What would it take for you to falsify your reports?” “I would never!” Ruì pulled back from her chair, her face alarmed and afraid. “I am doing everything I can to be of use to you, ma’am!” “It’s hypothetical,” she told Ruì not to worry, that the PA should entertain her boss’s curiosity if she could. “A thousand HDMs? Ten thousand? Effi? Terence? How about you guys?” Effi was the more effervescent of her other two NoM workers. A petite girl originally from Nanking, she had a heart-shaped face, long slitted eyes, and a bookish demeanour. “I wouldn’t want to risk it,” Effi stated warily, wondering if this was a test. “However, if I was desperate: like for example I needed a rare potion for my mother, or if one of my siblings Awoke to magic and needed tuition, I would at least think about it. So it's not an amount for me, but a matter of need. The amount would be just what I need.” “How about you, Terence?” “I would do it only if I am confident I can get away with it,” the young man raised his hand. “To be perfectly honest ma’am, knowing what we’re doing here and what Professor Ma’s doing, I wouldn’t dream of it. I think most of the offenders on the list have no idea that there are hundreds and soon to be thousands of NoMs working through every receipt, payslip and invoice. There's another problem though: I don’t think us NoMs have any way to spend that many crystals other than land, but the acquisition of property leaves a huge paper trail.” “Very perceptive, Terence. Well done. Ruì, back to you.” Gwen regarded her first assistant with interest. Ruì quaked under Gwen’s keen gaze. For some reason, her Mistress terrified her. “I… I can’t.” Ruì shook her head. "I love this job!" “Aww, I won’t force you,” Gwen consoled the poor woman with a few well-placed platitudes and a well-earned hug. She apologised as well, realising she had traumatised the girl. In her eyes, Ruì was a perfect ISTP follower on the Briggs-Myers scale: she possessed uncanny attention to detail, was loyal to a fault, and was meticulous with managing Gwen’s timetable, so much so that she had entertained moving Ruì downstairs into Gouding B1. For any sensible manager, the PA was a keeper. As for the others, more so than Effi, it was Terence’s answer that resonated with Gwen’s projection that having NoM accountants blind-audit Tonglv’s financial statements was a stroke of genius. Simply put - the NoMs had nothing to spend Crystals on. Their greatest wish was to live in a friendly, upscale District, have access to good quality food, clean air and water, quasi-magical amenities, and a chance for their children to have the same. They had no use for mountains of currency. For an NoM, procuring an excess of wealth wasn't a boon, it was a recipe for attracting disaster. In comparison, a Mage, a Cabal, a House, a Clan, or even a Tower, had infinite uses for currency; so much so that all the crystals pouring out of Tonglv wouldn’t satisfy the appetite of those seeking centuries of prosperity for their kith and kin. “Where’s Ken and Dai?" Gwen changed the subject. "I’d thought they be back by now.” “Sir Dai has gone to negotiate with the Yellow-River Trade Consortium, and Sir Ken is sending off reports at the CCP Tower,” Ruì informed her boss. "Oh, good on them," Gwen acknowledged that the two weren’t slacking off, then resumed the final few pages of her quarterly report. … Sun Kun - Bribery and Corruption. Xiao Cheng - Bribery and Corruption. Xiong Su - Embezzlement. Zi Fung - Fraud. Lang Fung - Bribery and Corruption, Insider Trading. Meiling Fung - Bribery and Corruption, Insider Trading. Three Fungs, Gwen paused, thinking of a Chinese idiom her Grandfather had muttered once. 'Men die for greed as birds die for feed.' How keen the Confucians were, she pondered as she stowed the report, and how cynically astute. For some reason, she had a feeling that the first century of offenders was only the beginning. Between now and the next half-decade, the Front would receive a flood of volunteers. “I’d keep an eye out at any rate,” Petra warned her. “Agreed.” Richard took a pull from a longneck. Her cousin had already added his piece, praising Gwen's quick thinking. “Seriously, that's some slick work; I didn't think you had it in you.” "Its payback for trying to malign my Master," Gwen explained. After a moment, she floated the Message Orb between them. “What should I do with this?” “Keep blackmailing him,” Richard proposed without so much as a pause for breath. “He’s a Lightning Magister. Get him to spill all his spells in exchange for the safety of what remains of his reputation. I dare say there are a few hundred CCs of savings there.” “I disagree.” Petra shook her head. “You don’t want to insult Magister Walken more than you have already, Gwen. First, it's not like you. What you're doing is more akin to what they do in Moscow: manipulating your enemies via Kompromat. But you don't have a Tower behind you. You have to remember that even a dog can scale a wall if they’re desperate enough, and Walken is an established Grey Faction Magister. If you keep pushing him, you'll both lose.” “Hmm.” Gwen chewed her lip. “Should I give him the orb as a gesture of good faith?” "Naw," Richard intervened. “He’s never going to be an ally we can trust; I don't mind treading on his toes.” “Let me stop you there, Richard," Petra interjected before Gwen could respond to her Australian cousin. "Gwen, so long as Walken believes the gains outweigh the cost, he’ll genuinely try to help you. For you, the best thing to do is to cut him loose once your relationship is over. If you hold onto his Kompromat, he'll spend the entire time, now and later, scheming to get it back.” “Petra has a point.” Gwen turned to Richard. “I’d rather you Consume him if you at that point.” Richard smirked. “He’s got to be at least tier 8, right. We could use some high-tier magic in our matches.” The two girls regarded their cousin, mildly alarmed. “Imagine that,” Richard continued. “It'd be pretty funny if you could launch a strategic-class AoE at our opponents during the IIUC.” “No time." Petra popped the Water Mage's bubble. "Gwen would have to finish third-year Spellcraft theory, take Advanced Mandala, complete Spell-Shaping 3004, then apply for a post-graduate position studying Strategic-Class Glyph Arrays in Europe. Unless Caliban gains the ability to 'consume' textbooks, we won’t be seeing anything beyond tier 6 at the IIUC. Not to mention Gwen needs Walken to take her through the contest, there are many nuances you and I cannot know." “Ah, you're all logic, Pats,” Richard chided their Mineral Mage cousin. "You're no fun." “We're not here to have 'fun',” Petra fired back. "But I don't want to argue with you, so let's change the subject. Gwen, what’s the deal with your Affinity predicament?” “I have to grow into it,” Gwen sighed. “That or balance my Affinity.” “Hey, you can trust us to watch your back.” Richard raised his hand. “Permission to restrain you if you turn half-dragon.” “Granted.” “I’ll keep looking,” Petra promised her cousin. “There’s bound to be something. You can't the first person with this problem.” “Thanks.” Gwen hugged her two cousins close to her bosom. “As for the Walken front, I think I've got a good idea. Pats, do you know what a sponge cake is?" The next day, Gwen finished her Divination and Economics tutorials, then joined Walken in the late afternoon at the Training Hall. The duo began their conversation with great care, stepping around one another like a pair of paranoid-drakes. When after a while, Gwen slid forward a Message Orb, Walken raised his brow with genuine surprise. "I appreciate the gesture." The Magister glanced at the Orb before pushing it back. "But allow me to make the same gesture. Why don't you keep it? It'll be a layer of insurance." Gwen hesitated. "It'll help the both of us focus, put our mind at ease," Walken remarked. His expression remained composed, his lips thin and pressed. She stowed the Orb. Now considerably unwound, the two laid out the minutes of their meeting, of which so far numbered three: Her Affinity-trait dilemma. Her Void-Affinity power-up. And details regarding the IIUC. After a few false-starts, Walken came into a well-worn groove, demonstrating why the Dean had chosen him for the job. “Unique solutions service unique problems,” Walken continued from where they’d left off. “If you recall, Affinity-Traits vary from Mage to Mage: it's as much a product of nurture as it is a problem of nature. In most instances, elemental-sympathy is acquired over a long interval, giving an Elementalist plenty of time to figure out their quirks. To take myself as an example: despite our unfortunately hot-headed kerfuffle yesterday, I am habitually in control of my inclinations. As one aligned to Elemental Air, I am often aloof and distanced from my peers, seldom feeling attached, even to my children. When Aella matured, I had to also contend with the renowned pridefulness of Lightning, as well as a certain stubbornness associated with Dragon-kin. Unlike you, however, it has taken me five decades to exceed a natural affinity of 6. As for Aella, our two-decade history grants me a conditional and proportional Lightning of 8.” “Goodness.” Gwen made a face. “How do you deal with it?” This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. “A mental technique is one solution. A method that allows me to distance myself from my immediate impulses. It was tiring when I first began, but the human mind is surprisingly malleable. If you find me sometimes cold, or perhaps divorced and unfeeling, my parallel meditation is to blame.” That explains Walken's charcoal-eyes, Gwen realised. Walken always hid behind a mask of observance, measuring the effectiveness of every word uttered from his mouth. “I don’t think that’s possible for me.” Gwen shook her head. She'd rather not turn into Walken 2.0. “Very well. If you had access to the School of Enchantment, you could also medicate with a Calm Emotion,” Walken suggested. “Or you can custom-order a Magic Item from our Faction’s Craftsmen which self-medicates when the need arises.” “Let's keep stop-gap measures on the back-burner,” she parried Walken’s second suggestion. “Does that mean no potions, Geas or Curses?” “Curses?” “Hexes,” Walken explained. “There are certain Cabals in Eastern Europe that still practice the old arts.” “No thanks,” Gwen refuted the Magister’s advice. Pharmacological and quasi-magical solutions would have been acceptable, but not if they evolved into a dependency. Across the table, Walken kept from commenting on her stubbornness, or the fact that after a dozen witches down Caliban's hatch, Gwen could potentially hex herself. “Very well then.” Walken exhaled gently. “Temperance and willpower it is.” “You mentioned something about my Familiars,” Gwen reminded the man. “You said my Master planned something around my future Familiars. Can’t I plug my leaks by doing something with Ariel and Caliban? Whatever happened to that?” “You happened,” Walken grumbled, flexing his off-hand. “But I digress. If you want to know, then I shall tell you. However, you mustn’t deride or grow upset at what I am about to tell you." “I won't.” “We'll see. Let us begin with some theory. Earlier, I noticed you used the term ‘leak’ - an apt if incomplete metaphor. For Mages, our Astral Soul naturally ‘permeates’ mana into our physical body, where it then dissipates into the Material Realm. With Primary Elementalists, the 'trait' is prominent because the body of all living beings naturally consists of Primary and Positive elements. The traits we observe are derived from nurture and nature. Earthen Mages find their bodies hardened and fortified, but the phenomenon is equal-parts elemental-sympathy and best-practice body-training to maximise Affinity. Likewise, Fire Mages grow resistant to heat and cold physically and excessively prone to passion. But did you know that if Fire Mages continuously suppress their impulses, their Affinity decreases? It's quite the dilemma. As for Water Mages, they grow averse to dry environs and are said to be easy going - but really, they're emulating the stereotype, falling into a mould of expectation. If so, are Water Mages laid-back and easy going, or did they learn to behave like that? Now, as for Quasi-Elementalists like us, our metabolism becomes hastened. We grow thirsty and hungry quickly-" Walken wetted his lips. "Suffer from insomnia, and have a reputation for pride and possessiveness-” “Speaking of hunger - I bought a sponge cake.” Blushing, Gwen materialised an enormous orange sponge-cake, an Australian staple, and a tea set for the table. As Walken had remarked, they had been at it for an hour, and their mutual Affinity had made them peckish. “I figured some nostalgic Aussie-fare would be a good ice breaker if things got awkward.” Walken stared at the pink-orange cake, transfixed. “It’s not poisoned,” Gwen assured him, cutting a slice, crumbling the hundreds and thousands. "That's icing sugar." “Ah, well, thank you.” Walken took a slice, touched by the kindness of buttery dough. “I was not expecting… yes. Very good. Thank you.” “Don’t mention it.” Gwen took a generous slice for herself, then dug into the sugary treat. It had taken Petra and her the better part of an evening to figure out the batter. In the end, it was Richard who baked the cake, folding the flour into the egg-froth with the deftness of a patissier. “You were saying?” “Oh, yes.” Walken swallowed before he continued. “You and I, of course, are additionally blessed by Draconic-Essence, which adds another layer of complication. Yours is purer than mine: Aella’s blessing, alas, accounts for little more than a commanding presence and a few decades of healthy living. Since you’re capable of generating Dragon-fear, I’d imagine it simmering at your throat at the slightest provocation.” “The Essence has got quite the kick, that’s for sure,” Gwen confessed. “Now, having rejected conventional solutions - Excuse me - Heat!” Walken re-heated his tea, added a spot of milk, then took a satisfying sip. As an Englishman, cold tea was worse than no tea. “I propose an unconventional method involving both of your Familiars.” “Oh?” Gwen cocked her head slightly. Had it taken a sponge cake for Walken to spill the beans? If so, she should get Richard onto Lamingtons next. "Go on." “First, are you able to exchange mana with your Familiars?” “I can give them mana,” Gwen replied. “It’s a one-way street though.” “To empower and engage their innate abilities?” “Yeah, Ariel transforms when fed,” Gwen explained. “It used to have a mongoose form, though these days it goes through ten shades of Kirin, pending on... how I feel, the time of day... and other things.” “An enviable guise nonetheless,” Walken remarked. “And Caliban?” “Caliban has many forms, the most powerful of which takes a quarter of my mana and virtually all of my vitality," Gwen answered, conscious of her evasion. “Good. Now, can your Familiars feed their mana or Essence back into your Astral Body?” “No.” Gwen shook her head. "Can you usurp or command the return of unspent mana and Essence?" "No. I had consulted with Magister Wen, Instructor Chen, and even Magister Birch as well. They said that it was impossible without higher Affinity with my Familiars." “Oh? I am surprised Hufei Chen wasn't more specific.” Walken raised a brow. “But I suppose that’s no surprise. As an Instructor, he doesn't owe you an answer by any means, not to mention he lacks the necessary School of Magic to verify a potential solution. You see, Gwen, exchange of mana and Essence from a Familiar requires synergy with the School of Transmutation.” Conjuration and Transmutation? She did a double-take. The only Conjurer-Transmuter Gwen knew of was Lulan, though the girl's Iron-Heart technique was far divorced from modern Spellcraft. “The original spell, Familiar Transfusion, was a way to use one’s Familiar as additional mana-pool,” Walken explained. “Unfortunately, the original designer wasn’t a Creature Mage and merely employed his cuy as a means to squirrel away an emergency supply.” “A cuy?” She cocked her head, imagining a monstrously mystical creature. “It's er... a rodent,” Walken explained, making a shape with his hands like a man moving an invisible mouse. “Akin to a hamster.” “Oo, cute!” “Mmm, yes,” Walken cleared his throat, thinking he'd likely have given up Conjuration altogether if gerbils were the best he could manage. “BUT - his spell had a propensity to incapacitate his Familiar while in use.” Gwen imagined a jiggly, puffed up, balloon-shaped cuy. “For now, I propose that you could use Ariel to ‘stow’ your mana-leaks, allowing you to manage your Lightning-Affinity and Draconic-Essence.” “But then Ariel would be stuck in its Kirin Form,” Gwen noted. “Only in combat, while you balance Void and Lightning elements within your Astral Body,” Walken nodded. “You have tapped into tier 2 Divination, yes?” “I have.” “Good.” Walken nibbled on the sponge cake, then dabbed his lip with a pocket-hankie. “Use Perceive Self to set a gauge of your mana-mix, then adjust accordingly. Of course, the prototype Familiar Transfusion won’t do. I’ll have to redesign it so that its transfusion and storage capacities are diminished enough to service your combat needs. After that, in the heat of combat at least, your Affinities should achieve a temporary balance.” "Question. Does learning Transfusion mean I can syphon vitality from Caliban?" "I don't see why not." “As simple as that?” “Synergy is never that simple,” Walken answered blatantly. “It'll be a work in progress. Do you always count your cockatrices before they hatch? Remember, it’s all conjecture at this point. We’re breaking new ground.” “I see.” Gwen sipped from her cup: as one brought up in an apartment like a peasant, she drank her tea cold. “One more thing, Eric, can you teach me Perceive Self?” "No." “But you know it.” “I do.” “Teach me!” “It's not my spell to teach!” Walken growled. "Are you attempting to entrap me with intellectual-theft as well?" “Ah...” Gwen blushed. She was too used to Magisters teaching her open-sourced spells or giving up their unique magic as favours. “Sorry.” “Hmmph. On that front, I want to say something for your benefit, so you better keep your earlier promise. If you want a cost-effect end to your problems, buy some Demi-human fodder for Caliban. We can't find you Void-beings or creatures to Consume, but you can upgrade Caliban to a humanoid form. I believe that may have been Henry's intention,” Walken stated stoically. “Before you start your bleeding-heart complaints, note that these Demi-humans are chattel either way, they're meat for the scholarly inclined Magister whether you buy them or not: if so, why not you?" Gwen stared. "There. Think about it. That's the last and only time I will implore you.” And with that, the congenial atmosphere turned frigid. Walken's captive audience of one stabbed her next piece of cake. Her advisor wasn't illogical, but the man was morally bankrupt. Of course, she had to acknowledge the hypocrisy of having Consumed Merfolk when she had travelled with Jun, as well as a sapient Dragon-kin. In practice, her revulsion over Walken was no better than someone with a belly full of Kobe beef campaigning for PETA. But the act of purchasing Demi-human ‘stock’ to test a hypothesis? Even if she verified Caliban’s ascension would work wonders for her dilemma, could she consent to such senselessness? In a round-about way, Walken's logos was that trafficked children got abused anyhow: so it may as well be her having a spot of fun: after all, no greater evil had been accomplished this day! How the hell was that an acceptable code of conduct? Her Master would rise from Sufina's Grot to spank her black and blue! The Tower would accuse her of Necromancy! They drank their drinks. “I had a curious epiphany about your potential approach to the IIUC last night,” Walken suddenly changed the subject, a move Gwen gladly welcomed. “You and your Familiars are infamous up and down all the campuses in Shanghai. If so, why not abuse this fact? In my opinion, excess and arrogance should form the basis of your IIUC approach.” “?” Her lips formed an 'O'. “Yes, indeed,” Walken smirked. “Henry wanted you to be seen and recognised by the Tower, did he not? Easier said than done, I am afraid. Between you and me, Fudan's a second-rate Magical University compared to Cambridge or Oxford, my old haunt. Though few could compare to your number of ‘Schools’ and ‘Affinity’, I dare say their Spellcraft is leagues ahead. At Oxford, any spell worth a damn would be tuned and perfected to within a half-a-syllable by generations of Magisters.” "Can't help that." She made a face. "Alas, I am a Frontier simpleton." “Which makes your statistics all the more enterprising," Walken persisted. “At any rate, someone with your ‘talent’ has nothing to hide. Instead, what we should do is advertise the fact that you’re an indomitable duelist whose very existence demands an inordinate commitment of resources.” “How the hell is that a good thing?” Gwen furrowed her brow. “Because your skills require hard counters. In which case, your team can pre-plan spell-lists. Let me give you an example: you are in control of Morden’s Hounds, yes? Together, you’ll summon ten-odd draconic-hounds-” “Seven plus Blood Hound plus Ariel,” Gwen reminded the Magister. “Only eight?” Walken raised a brow mockingly. “Well, we'll work on it. Across open ground, I doubt any team would want to face Lightning-Hounds capable of pack-tactics, not to-” “They're Draconic Deer-hounds,” Gwen interjected, feeling insulted. “Resistant to elements, strong as tier 5 Magical Beasts, telepathically controlled by Ariel...” “… Right.” The Magister paused with annoyance before continuing. “I stand corrected. Now, let’s say you were to Mass Haste, or boomerang D-D your Familiars behind enemy lines, to flank your enemies. Likewise, on open maps, Ariel plus your dogs would prevent any ambush, track targets, or make hunting down large prey trivial." Gwen took to the advice with a greedy, eager ear. "The point is - I would classify you as a specialist-class of Mage - a Soloist." "What's that?" "A contestant capable of besting any other Mage of an equivalent tier, using any School of Magic. There's usually a few in the competition, so one may as well be you; especially as Illusion and Mind Magic suffer from heavy restrictions." Her eyes lit up. "As a Soloist - your goal is to ‘eliminate’ designated targets from the competition. While your teammate's job is to 'peel away' targets for you to devour." "Metaphorically speaking..." "Right... Concurrently, you mustn't forget that having a team member going solo is a tactic. You by yourself won't be winning anything. The best teams possess synergy, and not just in Spellcraft." Pouting, Gwen cut herself another slice of cake. In hindsight, the man was right in that her spells rarely possessed synergy, whether with her teammates or within her Spell-list. If anything, she should work out a comprehensive list of by-products from her salad-mix of elements and Essence. “But let's return to our original topic. How to make your opponents wary of your histrionic talents and therefore offer your teammates an advantage in counter-spells.” “I am sorry. Everything you're saying is abstract to me,” Gwen confessed. She was beginning to realise just how much more she had to learn in the next six months. “I don’t understand half of what you just said.” “My fault, I am afraid. Public Spellcraft Education was underfunded because I vetoed Henry's package for state-schools.” Walken shook his head apologetically. “Let’s think about this pragmatically. In the instance that you face off against a team, they are bound to have ONE Abjurer. You’re not someone easily stopped without a hard-counter. Knowing you exist, opponents would have to include an Earthen, Dust, or Mineral Abjurer. In that case, let's resolve that problem-” “One - I’ll teach you Thundering Shatter, terrible mana-efficacy, long chant-time, but it’ll do. Two - one of your peers can prepare a touch-based Shatter, Stone Shape, or Scattering Impact, pending on their schools. Three - for an open-field competition, you pick your teammates for mobility, using run-and-cast tactics to outpace their stationary defence.” “What kind of opponents should we expect? Bloodline Mages? Noble Houses, Clanners, Cabals, that sort of thing? There’s bound to be specialisations, right?” “In a manner of speaking,” Walken's voice rose an octave. “Spellcraft sanctioned under the Imperial Metric is a given. You can’t have random individuals throwing out long-lost mysticism with unknowable consequences. Other than that, regional competitors tend to represent geographic and historical microcosms. Asian-casters are obsessed with their secretive ‘Clan-Magic’; while European elites possess superior Spellcraft with ethnographic variations between England, Middle Europe, Eastern Europe and the Mediterranean. Across the Atlantic, Meso and South Americans utilise a unique class of Spirit-Magic. As for Africa - well, you'll see. The ones to watch out for tend to be North American Universities favouring Magitech. America's a young country, and when a nation builds itself via witch-burning and enslaving the previous inhabitants, it tends to favour Magic of its own making.” “Magitech?" Gwen cooed. "The Yanks can use items?” “Only items the contestants have constructed themselves, with a nominated teammate as an operator," Walken assuaged her dismay. "One year, they even had an NoM pilot. That had caused quite a hoot.” “Fascinating!” Gwen tried to imagine the uproar of an NoM stepping out of a golem. “So, who’s favourited to win?” "Who do you think?" "Not us..." she moped. “Very astute. I’ll start at the top. Oxford and Cambridge are finalist staples, as well as the Royal London Imperial College of Sorcery. LMU Munich is a strong contender, PSL Research and Sorbonne University in France came-close a dozen-times, won once. ETH Zurich, Utrecht U, Moscow State have all had a turn to shoot for the top. The Americans have also staked their place - Harvard, Stanford, Yale, Princeton, the illusive MIT, we should be so lucky that they cannibalise each other before being fielded onto the world stage.” “Just how many do we have to face?” Gwen scowled. Just hearing those ground shaking names in her old world made her scalp crawl. “Ha!” Walken amused himself at the sight of her chagrin. “Two teams per region: Africa, Asia, Europe, North America, Oceania, and Meso-South America. You have to remember; the IUCC is objective orientated. In total, the competition accounts for thirteen slots, twelve teams from six regions, plus a seeded slot: usually the previous year’s winner - in this case, Oxford. Assuming you clear the Asian Qualifier, there will be four additional locations. Europe is a given, likely the U.S as well, and two other locations. The fifth match will take place in China: it'll be your ‘home game’. Other than that, match-ups are the luck of the draw.” “So, six matches?” “Seven,” Walken corrected her speculation. “Two to qualify. Considering how soundly Fudan was thrashed, your biggest competitors are likely Japanese, meaning two matches abroad. After which, I’d expect five matches, four overseas, one defending your turf at home.” “What determines the winner?” “Match-points. In the 80s, finals involved group-duels. Those inevitably ended in bad-blood. The IIUC is a spectator sport: you have to remember. Having children kill each other makes for poor sponsorship, especially when favourites were ganged-up on and maimed. If you make it past Asia, maybe the CCP will finally broadcast the match, ha!” "What if-" ‘Ding!’ Her Message bracelet chimed, displaying a previously unseen glyph. ‘Ding! Ding!’ “Sorry,” Gwen apologised, turning away. “Hello, who is this?” “Greetings, may I ask if this Miss Gwen Song?” A female's voice enquired. “Yes, this is she." This woman better not offer me a better rate on my Message Device, Gwen grumbled internally. Or ramble on about a Nigerian Prince needing a crystal transfer. “Oh, thank Mao! My name is Nurse Xie from Xiangming Municipal High School. It’s regarding your brother, Percy Song. He’s been injured in a duel and is currently on-route to the Second PLA Hospital. You were on his emergency contact list-” “What?!” Gwen stood up so fast the chair shot out from under her like a Rock Shard. “HOW!” The fucking hospital?! In a school with magical healing, her brother had to go to the fucking hospital?! Did babulya know? Did her grandfather? Somebody is going to get fucked something serious when Guo finds out! “I’ve tried to contact Percy’s father, but the glyph is dead, do you know if…” “Where is he now?” Gwen snapped. “Did you contact Secretary Song?” “Secretary Song left us his department number so I’d thought I try you first," the nurse answered awkwardly. "The medical Mages left ten minutes ago, so-” She slapped her forehead. Well, of course, a school nurse isn’t going to call the Chair of the bloody MSS to say that someone fucked up his grandson. “Deep breath…” Walken appeared beside her. “Control your Essence.” She inhaled and exhaled. “Thank you; I'll go to the hospital now." The Message glyph died. “Can we reschedule?” “Don’t lose your head.” The Magister studied her scarlet face, blushed from ear to ear. A vein throbbed just below her jaw, aristocratic and blue against her pale skin. “Think of this incident as training. People you love are going to get hurt, either by accident or by virtue of your talent and influence. That’s just how it is. What would happen if you lost your head each time?” Gwen’s mouth moved to form a polite thank you, but her lips felt paralysed. Abruptly, without a word, she was gone from the training hall, leaving Walken with a quarter of a sponge cake, still glistening with hundreds and thousands.

Xiangming Municipal High School had been famous since the yesteryears of Shanghai's founding as a Britannic Mageocracy Concession. Now, eighty years later, its towering multi-storey structure and generous, blue-lawn campus sat in the Goldilocks zone of Shanghai’s burgeoning centre, in the heart of the Jing-An District, flanked by some of the most expensive real estate in civilised Asia. It was here that Percy Song, first-year senior and younger brother to the infamous Worm Handler, daydreamed from a nineteenth storey window, marvelling at the vista of Shanghai’s splendour and wealth. In sharp contrast to the exterior, his homeroom's decor was clinical and austere, akin to a monastery, its atmosphere made insensate by polished concrete floors and pale chalk walls. The furniture, likewise, was ascetic and severe, industrial in its combination of steel and oak. “Yo! Xiao-Song!” Percy tensed as a heavy, well-muscled arm clasped him by the shoulders. “What's on your mind, Brother?” “Nothing in particular.” Percy pushed the far-too-friendly young man away. It wasn’t that he despised male intimacy, more so that in Australia, guy-friends were seldom so clingy. “Do you always have to be so close, Shun?” “Ha!” Tang Shun, also a first-year senior, pulled up a chair, straddling the seat like a saddle. “So, what’ll it be?” he implored his friend. “Are you going to take Captain Ma’s offer?” “Of course.” Percy smirked, thinking of Kelvin Ma, a young man whose position he most certainly aspired to one day usurp. “Who would refuse an offer like that?” “To think you were just a squirt six-months ago,” Shun tsked, tut-tutting with his lips. “How the hell did you get so good, so quickly?” “I am training double shifts both here and at home,” Percy remarked defensively. “You know I train like a dog daily, and I spar every fortnight with Mages from grandfather's department. At this rate, I am going to become a hermit-Doushi.” “Ah~, I wish I was a guan-er-dai,” Shun grumbled. “So much resource.” “YOU ARE ONE!” Percy punched his friend in the chest, snorting with derision. “Your dad’s the Inspector-General of the Pu-Tou District!” “Doesn’t count, he’s not a 'central' Official,” Shun snorted back. “Pfft! What’re you missing that I don’t have? Crystals? Instructors?” "You want to know?" "Yes, Shun, I do." “A SMOKING-HOT lamēi for a sister!” Shun’s lascivious grin grew from ear to ear. “Brother Song, I am telling you, I have never in my life seen a mēizi as pretty as Sister Gwen, want to watch that Lumen-cast again?” “NO!!” Percy attempted to shut Shun down before the others could hear, glancing about nervously. "Nope. Nah. NAW. Shut up!" "Come on! It's not like she's a secret anymore! Bring her to school! Don't be so selfish. You can't keep her to yourself." “We’re not having this conversation!” “Woa, what’s this about Percy’s sister?” “Percy’s sister’s coming to school?” “When?” “I’ll pay admission, Brother Song!” Burying his head in his arms, Percy groaned. The boys in class had known since last year that Percy had a sister in Fudan, and Percy had made it no secret that she was indeed the infamous Worm Handler, famed around Gouding Road. It was a childish thing to do, he knew, one that gave his sister a world of trouble last year. At the same time, it also rewarded him eminence with the seniors, who refrained from bullying him or forcing him to take on chores, as was the culture in a school like Xiangming. All in all, things had been chill until a few weeks ago, when one of the students returned with a lumen-cast of Gwen duelling a famous Mage from the Tei Clan, going toe to toe with the Abjurer while wearing nothing more protective than a liberal sundress. "Wait, that's Percy's sister?" "That's the Worm Handler?" "Isn't that the Flower of Fudan next to her?" "Percy's related to the BOTH of them?" After the lumen-cast made public Gwen's beauty, his days of peace also came to an end. Upsettingly, even Instructor Chew, their popular Transmutation P.E. teacher, subtly enquired if his sister was single until Percy declared very loudly and carelessly that she was seventeen. "S-SEVENTEEN?!" Percy knew then that he had screwed the pooch. The seniors exploded. The third-years at Xiangming were only seventeen themselves! How in Mao’s name was it that Percy's sister was seventeen and svelte, enrolled in Fudan, while they moped about, losing hairs over their National College Entrance Exam? The crowd flew into a frenzy and refused to relent until he gave up every secret on his sister, starting with her Schools of Magic, her Elements, and her three-sizes. In response, Percy turned deaf and dumb, tuning out all external stimuli until those that bothered him went away hungry. As a little brother, the worst thing in the world was hearing licentious compliments for one's sister. Ofttimes, the awkwardness was enough to make him want to slam his head against the school's concrete facade. “Mao! You're always like this whenever your sister comes up.” Shun knew there was no talking to Percy while he was in his self-imposed catatonia. “Well don’t just sit there like a sha-bī, come on, Practicals are next.” Practicals took place on the bottom oval. As a young bloke, Percy struck a striking figure, positively dashing in all of his uniforms, be it summer or winter, sport or formal. Thanks to proper nutrition and ironically, the lack of training with his Salt talent from an early age, he was now just a few centimeters short of Gwen, sitting at a happy five-foot-eight as he arrived at the cusp of manhood. Like his sister, he was long of limb, with a compact torso supporting a set of broad shoulders. His face took after Hai's, possessed of a well-chiselled jaw, a sharp chin, a straight nose, and dark eyes affecting a perpetual affability. The most evident difference between himself and Gwen was his honey-tanned complexion, owing to Surya’s Indonesian origins. Though he'd only been in Xiangming for nine-odd months, Percy maintained a good reputation among both the seniors and juniors, far better managed than Gwen's ambivalent treatment by her old alumni at Blackwattle Bay. Unlike most schools in China, the school's presiding Principal, Magister Nuì Renji, desired no quotas. Instead, he declared that Xiangming was a place of pure meritocracy, with an intake consisting of the top 0.2% of Shanghai's exam-takers. The result was that with less than thirty per cent of the senior cohort consisting of girls, the majority of the male student body could only stare thirstily as their fairer counterparts entertained well-spoken days of courtship and bliss. As a direct result of this imbalance, the forever-alone students of Xiangming High took on a cursed moniker - the Thirsty Lonely Monks of Ruijin Road. As for Percy, he was a certified lady-killer. “Brother Percy!” “Song gege~…” Percy waved at the young women greeting him from across the training field. Due to unforeseen circumstances, he was closer to the fairer sex than his same-sex peers. When he’d first arrived at the school, the local lads had been too snobbish to welcome a stranger into the midst of their well-established cliches - but not so the girls, who found great interest in the exotic Eurasian Salt Mage. When they later found out that he had a sister in Fudan, the university of their dreams, the girls' friendliness only grew. “Brother, please open a path for us.” Shun saluted fist-to-palm in an archaic gesture for ‘please’, drawing giggles from the gaggle of girls. “That's right, Percy! Don’t leave us behind!” The fair-faced boy who intruded was one Percy preferred to punch in the face, but couldn’t find the gall to jeopardise his built-up position. He wasn't Gwen, after all - there are things she seemed to do without effort that would make his life impossible. “Pei.” Percy kept his greeting short and austere. “Senior Pei!” A few of the girls warily greeted the newcomer. The Sword-Mage's skills were well known, though thanks to Percy's prowess at propaganda, the lasses now figured Pei a snake in the grass. Against all expectation, Pei Li remained the most-likely heir of Huashan despite his catastrophic tussle with the House of Song. As for the boys' friendship, the incident had frayed what little goodwill the two had engendered when Percy began schools the previous year. In a way, it was no loss, as Percy's group of power-progeny friends held little regard for the Clanners. Like their parents, they saw Clanners as parasites sucking on the heart-blood of China’s great resurgence as a central power. “Mei, Anling,” Percy greeted the girls, ranked by his heartfelt affection for each of them. “Leilei, Ming, Xiao-Jai. It's lovely to see you as always.” The girls giggled; open compliments were rare. Ones delivered so naturally were rarer. Of the five girls, it was Mei Yang who held the title of the ‘Flower of Xiangming’ and whose stature and fame towered over the others. She was a scion of the Yangs, a Clan of antiquity, possessing the rare gift of Lightning. As for her craft, she was a Transmuter combining Western Magic with her family's secret arts. To Percy's eyes, Mei was wonderful, for the girl combined a compact and agile dancer’s figure with a pleasing, girl-next-door appearance. A quality he preferred over the heart-stopping visage Gwen assumed; particularly when flushed with Draconic-Essence. “Percy.” Mei slid closer. “So, are you taking Senior Ma’s offer?” “Naturally,” Percy flashed a set of pearly teeth, glancing at Pei. “Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Senior Ma is an honour.” Seeing that Percy was ignoring him, Pei left the group. Percy watched the boy go, knowing that Lulan and Kusu had taken up with his sister from their adventure together in Nantong. Furthermore, Percy had found out from one of the girls that Pei's faction were the ones behind the siblings' plight. If the rumour held weight, he would see Pei squirm sooner or later. “Mei, you look p-pretty, as usual,” Shun spluttered. Percy knew his friend had a big crush on the girl, though Mei had told Percy that under no circumstances did she have any interest in the muscle-headed Earthen Evoker. “Are you doing anything this weekend?” “I am…” Mei wanted to say she was occupied, but she didn’t want to miss out on Percy. “Percy, what are you doing on the weekend?” “Training.” Percy wondered if Shun could take the hint. “It's sparring week.” “Oh.” Mei twiddled her thumbs, glancing between Percy and Shun, blinking at him with her glimmering eyes. “I am… free in the afternoon,” Percy relented, looking away guiltily from Shun. He couldn’t bring himself to disappoint a girl. Increasingly, Percy found pretty faces to be the bane of his existence. Already he had gotten into fights and duels a dozen times because some guy in school wanted to challenge him for Mei, or Anling, or some other girl with whom he was on the level - even though they were just friends. When he boasted of his popularity to his sister, Gwen had this to say: “Are you stupid or is your opponent slow? Mei belongs to herself, not to you or anyone. How the hell is duelling you going to get Mei to ‘go’ with them? The fact that you accepted the duel means you've gone down the Path of the Douche. Go and apologise to her on Monday, first thing, you bloody troglodyte.” And so Percy did, relayed Gwen's message word-for-word to Mei. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Afterwards, the girl's eyes sparkled like anything. Which was why for several weeks now, Mei had begged Percy for a date - to see his sister, arguably the coolest person Mei had ever seen in a Lumen-cast, a real-life Battle Mage, pretty as an idol, wise to boot, and most importantly, a Lightning Mage like herself! Naturally, the students had taken the duo's newfound intimacy the wrong way. It was now common knowledge that Mei Yang, the unassailable goddess, had fallen. All in Xiangming suspected that the delicate flower had stuck itself onto a cowpat stamped with the name Percy Song. “Woohoo! Wonderful!” Mei squealed, jumping for joy, taking Percy’s hands and swinging them back and forth. Feeling the softness of her palms, Percy took a moment to enjoy his female company, fantasising just how awesome it would be if he had a younger sister instead of a quasi-draconian worrywart. “Thanks, Percy, I’ll buy you dinner after, okay?” Meanwhile, Shun remained by the wayside, waiting for an answer that would never come. When finally Mei began to swing from Percy like a baby monkey, something shattered in his chest. “YOU BASTARD! Hands off Mei!” A voice came from the wayside, more bark than human speech. The speaker was the very devil Percy loathed to see. “You refused my duel, and yet you dare approach Mei-mēimēi?!” The crowd collectively cringed. Alain Yang was Mei’s cousin, twice removed. A brash young man about six-foot tall with the face of an auroch and the constitution of one as well. The boisterous bloke was well known for his excessive passion, for he had inherited a bloodline variant of the Yang’s Fire talent, a fluke of nature that allowed his flames to burn hotter, stronger, and douchier, drawn from the 'heart' of the Plane of Fire. To Percy’s knowledge, Alain was the child of a side family, born in Hong Kong then brought over to Shanghai by the Clan. It was for this reason that Percy suspected his peer’s interest in Mei was two-fold. One, Mei was the catch of the school, and two, marrying Mei would legitimise his claim to the Clan of Yang. “Mei, get away from him!” The boisterous Fire Mage commanded ‘his’ woman. Mei rolled her eyes, but said nothing, leaving the bucks to joust. Percy liked that about Mei. His sister acted shy in front of her elders, but she was as much of a hellion as that friend of hers, Yue, and her confidant, the Scarlet Sorceress Alesia De Botton. Despite having made up with Gwen, no amount of hugs and kisses was enough to gloss over the fact that she had coveted his Amulet. But for now, the conflict was over Mei, a girl whose tolerance for the antics of people like Alain astounded him. If anything, Gwen had a lot to learn from her junior if she ever wanted a boyfriend. “Hello, Alain.” Percy turned to face the young bloke with a forced grin. “What’s the matter?” “The matter?! Stay away from Mei, you Gweilo bumpkin!” “As you wish.” Percy stepped back - “Good!” Alain grunted with approval. “If you know what’s good for you...” \- then placed an arm around Mei's shoulders. The girl took it without complaint, her liquid eyes fluttering mischievously. “Sunday afternoon at Fudan, then dinner - your treat. Is that alright with you?” It didn’t escape Mei that Percy had left out some very important details. “Anything you say, Percy.” Mei bit her lower lip to prevent herself from giving the game away, incidentally multiplying her cuteness. “I can’t wait to see what you’ll show me.” “I'll show you the largest worm you've ever seen. You can touch it, even.” “Pfft! Hahaha…” Mei was in tears. She knew Percy was referring to his sister’s Familiar, infamous across the metropolitan schools. That was another thing she liked about Percy: he was a funny guy with a sense of humour, entirely unlike the other power-progeny she knew. “Fire Bolt!” Alain had just about enough of his fiancèe's public flirting with another man. “Shield!” Percy’s barrier had half a second to spare. “INSTRUCTOR CHEW!” Percy cried out in mock panic, his voice projecting across the field with ease. “Alain’s gone crazy again!” “Alain YANG! I SAW THAT!” A roaring voice poured over the bottom oval. “STAFF ROOM, NOW!” “I am going to kill you!” Alain screeched at Percy even as two prefects dragged him away. "Just you wait!" “Sure thing.” Percy wiggled his brows. “I’ll see you at the Duelling Club, reserve member number nine Alain Yang.” Their audience, a collection of first-year seniors like themselves, burst into merriment. That Percy had previously bested Alain to gain Captain Ma’s favour was well known across the school. It was the reason why snitching to Instructor Chew was a gesture of hilarity, not cowardice. Percy joined in with the laughter. Though he had arrived as an ‘import’ student from overseas, aided by family connections, the Salt Mage's growth had turned heads all over campus. In June of last year, the Acolyte was only beginning to grasp his elemental talent, but when he returned to school in the new year, it was as though an Ancestral Spirit possessed him. Not only were his existing spells faster and stronger; he picked up Abjuration and even bits of Transmutation with the ease of a seasoned senior. Teacher Lu had even joked to the faculty that the boy might have gone through a second Awakening. After a brief investigation, it was revealed that the boy’s sister was the genius girl Fudan had picked up mid-May last year - the Lightning-Void dual-elementalist. When another one of the Instructors pulled a few strings, the faculty was astounded by the fact that the girl had confirmed proficiency in FIVE schools of Magic. "What are they feeding her?" The head of Spellcraft demanded. "Spirit pills?" In the old days, elite Daoshi cultivators wielded Transmutation, Evocation and Conjuration concurrently; some had gone a step further and dabbled in Divination and Enchantment. It was only in this age of the Imperial Metric System that multi-school achievements became impracticable. Conversely, however, none of the Instructors faulted the Westernisation of magic: in the days of yore, a Clan would burn offerings to the ancestor when they were fortuitous enough to produce a dozen combat ascetics. Now, over twenty-thousand Mages graduated from Shanghai’s two-hundred or so secondary institutions per year. If so, with a sister capable of tapping into five Schools of Magic, why should one be astounded that the brother showed promise in three? “Okay, now that the eyesore is gone,” Percy grinned at the girls. “Who wants to spar?” “Please be gentle,” Mei cooed, evidently still in a playful mood. Beside her, Shun drooled like a fool. “Look, er... I’ll warm up with Shun first,” Percy decided to do the bro-thing and save his friend from playing the red-arsed monkey. “Come on Shun, show the girls what you got!” At 3.15 PM, after the academic schedule, students shuffled off to mandatory club activity. The most popular extra curriculum was the Duelling Club, a place not infrequently visited by headhunters from the top universities. Not long ago, Kelvin Ma, the Captain of Xiangming’s District Competition Team, had received scholarship invitations from Fudan, Tsinghua and Jiantong. It was highly unusual, therefore, for Percy, who aimed for a scholarship himself, to be absent; enough at least to attract a comment from the captain. “I’ll go look for him if you like,” the vice-captain, an affable-looking young man with a military-crop, steaming with sweat, offered to resolve his captain’s query. “More importantly, where’s Mei?” Kelvin Ma scanned the crowd. The girl was a close family friend, and he had promised his uncle to look after the girl. “Maybe they’re together?” “He better not be doing what I think he’s doing.” Kelvin scratched his stubble. He trusted Percy, to a degree, but Percy’s father had a reputation. With Mei hanging close to Percy ever since the boy joined Xiangming DC, he got the jitters whenever the two snuck off on breaks. “You know what, Don, go find em.” Don Li saluted. “I’ll bring em back safe and sound, or in pieces, if Percy turns out to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” Kelvin frowned unpleasantly. "Hahaha, are you jealous, Brother?" His friend burst into merriment. "You could have any of the girls you want, you know." “Just… bring them back.” The captain pinched his brows. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t want a girlfriend, it was more so that he didn’t dare. His family’s secret arts made no sense in the parlance of Western Spellcraft: what the hell does being a virgin have to do the rigidity of his Mao-damned crystals? “Ah-Bān, get em!” Alain urged his bodyguard. “A hundred HDMs if you pin him!” “Alain! Don’t you dare! Ah-Bān, back off!” Mei snapped at her cousin and his henchmen. “Ha! Hiding behind a woman!” “Says the man hiding behind a brick-shithouse! Come at me yourself, you little bitch!” Percy spat. “Salt Shard!” Ah-Bān parried the shard with an infused forearm. “You dare attack the future heir of house Yang?!” “Oh, for fuck's sake, what is wrong with you people?” Percy growled, rolling his eyes. “Gwen's right, maybe you are slow. You ambushed us! The hell are you expecting? Should I roll the fuck over?” “Destroy him, Percy!” Mei’s face grew flushed with excitement. It was always thrilling to have men fight over oneself, more so when it was her self-proclaimed dog-faced fiancé taking a beating. “I’ll take full responsibility. Let’s see Uncle Yang try to squirm out of this one!” “Master Yang is too precious to have to deal with the likes of you!” Ah-Bān's voice was loud enough to bounce off the walls. “F- You know what? Suffer in ya jocks,” Percy couldn’t help but revert to a more comfortable slang. “Mei, you sure about this? We’re in public. We only have provisional licences.” “Mom will take care of it, or one of my aunties will. Don’t you worry!” Mei assured her companion. “This is self-defence! I’ll be our witness. Who would take Alain’s words over mine?” “Alain, you hearing this?” Percy held onto an half-incanted Shield. “You want to cut your losses, or you happy to play silly buggers? You are fucked either way, buddy, you're a slab of raw fish, mate!” "Ahahaha, oh Mao," Mei rocked back and forth, shaking with mirth. "It's carp on the chopping board!" “Caonima! Ah-Bān! I want this sha-bī to die!” The novice Fire Mage exploded. “Mei, get back!” Mei Yang skipped back a few steps, safe in the knowledge that whoever got hurt today, it wasn’t going to be her. The other reason she wasn’t worried was that Alain was stupid enough to accost them while she and Percy were getting bubble-tea. With a face full of peevish anger, her cousin had informed them that he needed to speak to Percy in private. When Mei said she would come along as well, Alain told her to go home, which resulted in her locking arms with Percy. Two blocks later, the dead-end alleyway they had arrived at was typical of the old hutongs around Shanghai - a small lot surrounded on three sides with residential apartments. With any luck, a city-guard or a police officer would be along shortly. "Rock Armour!" "Too slow, asshole!" In front of Mei, Percy performed one of the most daring manoeuvres she had ever seen anyone execute. Using a combination of Spider-Climb and Enhance Dexterity, Percy flanked his opponent by stepping against a wall then launching himself into the air with 'Jump' so that his path of attack became diagonal and top-down, an angle difficult for anyone but Abjurers to defend with their Shield. “Salt Shard!” “Hammer Throw!” Ah-Bān, Alain’s bodyguard, was a house servant with two decades of service to the Yang’s side branch. From what Mei knew, he wasn’t the brightest Lumen-orb in the Storage Ring. A Transmuter, the man was a good bodyguard for an abusive, impulsive little-emperor like Alain, but made for a terrible source of temperance if Alain’s parents had intended their son to stay out of trouble. To Mei's knowledge, the school forbade students bringing servants and bodyguards, so Alain would be doubly screwed when the matter went up for review. Furthermore, as they were still in schooling hours, the school was accountable for the students' safety, meaning a suspension was all but assured. If Mei herself had to do something as absurdly stupid as ambushing a fellow student, she would have waited until after club, on the way home, after luring them indoors. 'Crack!' Ah-Bān’s slab of whirling stone grazed Percy’s shoulder, snapped away a chunk of pink-salt. Meanwhile, Percy’s crystalline shard pierced Ah-Bān’s rock-armour, drawing first blood. Mei felt a wave of impressionable worship firing off her teenage hormones. In the space it took for them to walk from the bubble-tea shop to the alleyway, Percy had secretly buffed himself! To her knowledge, only someone like Kelvin could have had the subtlety and skill to apply something like this, and Percy was almost two years his junior! “Tough bastard!” Percy formed a Shield just beneath his feet, then used the layer of salt to launch himself away with another Jump. “Salt Smite!” A blast of powder struck Ah-Bān, covering his defensive armour with blue-grey grains of desiccating residue. “Don’t let him drain you!” Alain shouted from the side. “Fire Bolt!” Percy Shielded himself. “Hey!” Mei screeched from the sideline. “Don’t you dare, Alain Yang! That's unfair! I’ll fry you like a fish!” Alain’s bolt clattered against Percy's Salt Shield harmlessly. “Going soft?!” Percy laughed at the pathetic sight. “Good luck on your wedding night!” “PERCY SONG!" Alain looked as though he was drunk. "Ah-Bān!” “Come on, big guy,” Percy taunted the Earthen Mage. “First to Shield Break?” “I'll die before you dishonour Master Yang!” Ah-Bān roared. “Hammer Throw!” “This isn’t the fucking feudal era!” Percy dodged another blow, flinching as the concrete wall behind him cracked. “You serious, big-guy? You’re trying to kill me?” Ah-Bān glanced at his Master. “Get him!” Alain insisted. “Mei, call the school! They're going too far.” “Okay!” Mei raised a bracelet to her lips. "You are going to be in a world of trouble, Alain!" “No, don't!” Alain reached for his cousin. “Magic Missile!” “Shield!” Mei erected a Lightning Shield, but defensive magic wasn’t her forte. With a sizzling ‘ting!’, a missile found its mark, striking her wrist and snapping the bangle. Mei stared at Alain in disbelief, clutching her wrist, her eyes watering. “Cao…” Alain’s sunflower puckered. “S-sorry, I didn't…” “Body of Lightning!” Mei rushed her cousin with a technique akin to Blink conjoined with Bull Rush. “Mei, No!” Percy called out. If Mei succeeded in maiming Alain, they would all be in a world of shit. He needed her to be a helpless witness, not an accomplice! “Master!” Ah-Bān likewise accelerated toward Alain. “ARRRRRGH!” Alain wanted to flee, but three Transmuters were converging toward him, the intensity of which was preventing him from using his secondary Schools of Magic. “Shield!” Using his Salt-Shield as a springboard, Percy was the first to arrive. He was confident that Mei would stop as soon as she struck his Shield, and that his barrier was strong enough to hinder the Earthen Mage, at least enough for him to dodge - Mei struck Percy square in the chest. “Percy?!” Mei did her best to abort, but her Body of Lightning wasn’t the sort of half-assed technique that allowed for things like mercy. Despite her best efforts, the discharge from her invocation poured into Percy, paralysing her companion. As for Percy, his mind was momentarily white-hot. Every nerve in his body convulsed as the electricity ate away his Salt-Skin. What happened to his Shield? Percy baulked. What happened to his buffs? For several months now, he had activated his Abjuration with a thought, as effortless as breathing. Even Kelvin Ma, the Abjuration prodigy, had marvelled at the speed and accuracy of his manifestation, praising it as but a step behind chantless invocation. For Percy, the faultless nature of his secondary Schools was his trump card, his ‘signature move’, it was the means of his selection into the team as a first-year senior. ‘Wham!’ Next, Ah-Bān's body-slam connected, the man’s surprise equalled only by the force of his collision with Percy. Like a carcass of cured pork, the Salt Mage rag-dolled through the air, limbs akimbo. Mid-way, Percy struggled to find something with enough purchase to halt his trajectory. When he flew over Alain Yang, he willed his paralysed limbs to move, reaching out toward the young man so that he could at least anchor himself to something. Seeing Percy flying overhead, Alain ducked. FUCKING TYPICAL! Percy recalled himself thinking as he caught a fistful of Alain’s hair. “ARRRRRGGGGGNNNN!” Alain screamed. Percy's trajectory continued, now with twenty per cent more hair. In the next moment, past a few stickybeaked faces at the entrance to the dead end alleyway, he landed in the middle of Ruijing 2nd Road, the main thoroughfare of Shanghai’s golden commercial district. ‘Screech!’ ‘BEEEEEEP!’ ‘THUNK!’ The last thing Percy recalled seeing was a two-ton cargo truck - that and the fact that for the first time in three months, he couldn’t erect a Shield.

“He’s going to be healthier than ever.” Gwen’s babulya patted her on the shoulder. “Give it a week, and Percy can return to school.” Beside his hand-wringing sister, Percy was suspended above a levitation module designed to prevent pressure-sores while he recovered. “Hey, sis…” her brother moaned. "I am... fine!" At the sight of several hundred acupuncture needles sticking out from Percy’s full-body plaster cast, her eyes grew moist. “It's not as bad as it looks, the bones need to set properly, that’s all.” Klavdiya tapped on Percy’s vitals while Gwen shivered at the sight of the needles. “I've foregone Regeneration to implement a strengthening technique. Why waste a perfectly good opportunity?” Her brother moaned, his every utterance plucking at Gwen's heartstrings. His face retained a mess of blue bruises where the truck's grill had said hello. She had wanted him recovered by the hour, though babulya's advise that gradual healing was always superior to the brute-force of battlefield triage. “Who did this?!” Gwen snapped, her hair rising into the air as though she’d turned half-Hag. Her flaring temper elicited a quiet 'eek!' - revealing a meek existence hiding behind her babulya in the form of a girl in Xiangming's charcoal-ivory uniform. “You there! What do you know?” Mei trembled. She wanted to meet her idol, not be eaten by her. “A truck!” Mei spluttered. “A truck hit Percy!” “That truck has seen its last haul!” Gwen seemed to almost rise into the air. “Where’s the driver?!” Her babulya intervened. “Arrested - the driver is an NoM, and he is entirely blameless.” The old woman stared her granddaughter down until she acknowledged the unfortunate man's innocence. Mimicking Caliban with a prey denied, Gwen returned her attention to Mei. “Alright, then why were you playing in traffic? Belay that, how the hell can a bloody truck hurt a Mage? Percy’s got Abjuration Shields!” Mei teetered on the verge of tears and would have cried but for the fact that she couldn't breathe. “Not… Mei’s fault…” Percy moaned. “Blame… Alain…” “Who the fuck is ALAIN?” “My cousin…” Mei squirmed. “He was fighting with Percy.” “YOUR KINSMEN PUSHED MY BROTHER ONTO THE ROAD?!” “His servant did,” Percy’s schoolmate cowered. “It was an accident!” “I’ll show him an accident!” A sliver of Dragon-Fear licked at Mei's ashen face, made paler by the bright cobalt emanating from Gwen's electric eyes. "You better not be lying to me." ‘Slap!’ “Gwen!” Her babulya struck her head from behind. “Enough! You're in a hospital!” “Urrrrghn!” Percy keened like a wounded cat. “Sis, the needles… why…” “Shit, Percy! I am sorry,” Gwen knelt by the bedside. “Where does it hurt?” “Where does it... not hurt?” Percy's complexion turned to paste. Klavdiya sighed. “Gwen, leave us. I need to reset the needles.” “Sorry, Babulya. Sorry, Percy.” “Mei, go explain what happened,” Klavdiya commanded Percy's schoolmate. "Away from here. Your grandfather should be here shortly." “Yes, Nainai.” Stepping outside, Gwen and Mei were met by two boys who had been waiting for them to exit. The older of the two was an able-bodied youth standing close to six-foot, with a sharp, angular face and semi-transparent, pale amber irises. The other was a boisterous looking troublemaker with slicked-back hair, a head shorter than the first, standing with the gait of a wannabe triad hoodlum. “Brother Ma, Senior Li!” Mei bowed deeply. “I am sorry about Percy; it’s all my fault.” “No need to be so distressed," the Ma boy answered after a ninety-degree bow. “Miss Song, it’s a pleasure to meet you finally. I have heard nothing but praise from my Uncle in regards to your abilities.” Gwen scanned the boy's face, her brain quickly connecting the dots. “You’re Professor Ma’s…” “Nephew, Ma’am. Please call me Kelvin.” The two shook. “Well met, Kelvin.” “This is Don Li, my vice-captain. We’re Percy’s Seniors.” Don bowed deeply as well. “Please accept my most sincere apologies." Don lowered his head. "I was supposed to be looking out for Percy, but I arrived too late to stop Alain.” “I take it all of you know who this Alain may be?” “He’s my cousin.” Mei swallowed. The dual-Elementalist's glare wilted the girl with its intensity. “Let’s talk outside.” Gwen pointed to the balcony. “I need some air.” The three teenagers regarded one another, passing a measure of understanding before following the renowned Worm Handler. Once outside, the trio was surprised to find that Gwen had summoned both her Familiars. “Shaaa!” Caliban slithered about in its obsidian serpent form. “EEE!” Ariel emerged fully fluffed with Almudj’s Essence. The sight of the Worm Handler's twin monsters stupified even the usually stoic Kelvin. Beside their captain, Mei took up his right arm, shivering uncontrollably; on Kelvin's left, Don clutched his captain’s left arm with equal vigour. “It's alright. I am working on something.” To ease their apprehension, she coiled Caliban behind her, while Ariel set forth on a diplomatic mission. “Eeee?” Ariel cocked its head, its luminous eyes blazing with a rainbow-hue. “Can… can we touch it?” Mei instantly melted. She had been waiting for this moment for the better part of a month. “Of course," as a generous God, Gwen offered her Ariel for petting. Ariel took the better part of a minute to charm its targets, who instantly became its servant, hungrily massaging its mane, brushing its tail and touching its feet. “Watch the horns,” Gwen warned them, sending a stream of Essence into Ariel, feeling the mounting stress in her Astral Body decrease. “They discharge electricity, sometimes.” “Senior!" Mei raised her hand. "I am a Lightning Mage too!” “That’s good to know, Sister.” “Hee hee hee.” Mei's anxious face broke into a grin, growing so giddy that she bodily embraced the fluffy body beneath her. “Shaa!” Caliban sulked. Why does Ariel get all the fun? It seemed to say. Not wanting Caliban to feel left out, Gwen picked it up bodily and coiled it around her shoulders so that it could nuzzle her face. "Wow, Caliban looks magnificent," Mei remarked. Gwen ignored the unintentional double entendre. Instead, she commenced her gentle interrogation. “So, you kids got a tale to tell?” “Ma’am.” Kelvin dipped his head awkwardly. “We’re the same age. You’re seventeen, right?” Gwen measured Kelvin from head to toe. “Sorry,” she apologised, realising working at the office amongst adults had thrown off her biological metronome. “Gents, Mei, I would like to know what happened to Percy. I wish for every detail.” Mei faced the Void Sorceress and her Mongolian Death Worm. “I’ll start. It’s my fault that all of this happened…” With a tender voice that matched her petite face, Mei told the tale of Percy helping her rebuff Alain’s possessive jealousy, finishing with Alain’s ambush and her friendly-fire. The final result, she explained, was a serendipitous convergence of circumstances, truck included. “And his Shield didn’t manifest?” Caliban's faceless mien slithered closer. “I think I paralysed him,” she explained, guilt written all over her face. “I hit him with my Body of Lightning; there’s a paralytic effect to the attack.” “I see." Gwen remained all business. "Gents, your turn to verify.” “As Percy’s Team Captain.” Kelvin stepped up. “I can verify that Alain had an issue with Percy. A part of their conflict is because I chose Percy over Alain for the final slot of our team. If anything, I may be the originator of their conflict.” “Not true.” Don stepped between Gwen’s Familiar and his captain. “Alain’s a reptile. I was the one who was negligent. I should have smacked the little er-bi before this happened.” “Don, watch your language!” Kelvin chided his second. “Sorry, Miss.” “It’s fine, Don.” Gwen considered the two boys, carefully observing their body language. Don appeared to be a Water Mage, while Kelvin was a high-tier Mineral Mage. The act they were putting on was likely for her benefit, though she had to applaud the fact that the two boys covered for Mei, who, in her opinion, was the real catalyst. “I should have gone with Alain.” Mei appeared crestfallen. With a glance from its Master, Ariel stood on its hind legs and licked the girl’s face. In return, Mei hugged Gwen’s Kirin around the neck and buried her face into its mane. Gwen sighed. The kids were wary. “I see, so Alain’s to blame. Tell me about him.” “He’s my cousin,” Mei reinstated the unfortunate fact. “He’s potentially the next head of the family after Uncle Tsung died in Tibet. In our Clan's bloodline, it's just my sisters, me and another cousin left, that and our mothers." All women? She glanced at the boys. “The Yang family is well-known,” Kelvin intruded, realising that their gweilo senior likely had no idea. "They’re descended from THE Yang family of yore.” Gwen's stone-like mien remained unimpressed. “They’re a family that’s existed since the Song Dynasty,” the Mineral Mage made another attempt to impress. “The one who lost three generations of sons to the Khitani Centaurs in the Song Dynasty, then again lost all their sons defending Southern Song against the Mongol Clans…” “Alain came from Xian originally,” Mei nervously continued, stroking Ariel to calm her nerves. “He received a bloodline talent from his mother, which is something our ancestors call the ‘Pure Yang Body’, meaning he excels at Fire Magic. His grandmother's my great aunt, so we’re twice removed. His mother suggested that he and I should wed so that we could reignite the old bloodline.” “Your family's renown notwithstanding.” Gwen furrowed her brows. “Let’s say I beat Alain up, who’s going to save him?” “His… mother?” Mei's voice was barely audible. “She’s a Fire Magus.” “Miss Song, you’re not thinking of…” Kelvin felt the need to interject before the matter escalated. “I am kin to the Yangs. My Uncle is married to one of the Yang women. If you want reparation from Alain, please let me know.” Gwen cleared her throat. "Very well. I want a public apology, fair punishment from the school, and all medical expenses paid-” Gwen paused. “Plus something else as compensation. I’ll leave that to this Alain.” “…” Kelvin looked at Mei, who looked away. “What? Don't tell me that's too much?” “Crystals and favours are alright,” Kelvin spoke with great care. “A public apology is a bit…” “A bit what?” “I don’t think-“ “Then I’ll break every bone in the little twirp's body, an eye for an eye.” Her threat echoed across the courtyard like thunder. “Where is he now?” “At h-home.” “Your home?” Her orbs scorched her quivering victim. Mei pleaded with Kelvin: the boy subtly shook his head. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it “Miss Song,” Kelvin thought he’d give assuaging another go. "If it would-" "Gwen?" Guo Song, Chairman of the Confidential Communications Committee, pushed open the door the to balcony's exterior. “SIR!” Kelvin bowed deeply, quickly followed by the others. “Yeye!” Gwen ran to her grandfather, suddenly a teenage girl. “Percy’s injured, and I know where the culprit is.” Gwen's statement of intent was enough to Petrify the horrified Mei. It was one thing to face the famed ‘Worm Handler’, but quite another to displease a man capable of sitting on one of the twenty-four inner seats of the CCP’s central committees. “Very good.” Guo turned to the others. “You may go.” The trio retreated, not daring to attract Guo's ire. “Grandfather, I think you scared that girl half to death.” “I am sure that was you,” Guo remarked dryly. “Why would I scare her? Percy brought her home once. We spoke.” Gwen raised a brow. “She’s a Yang, right? Good family. A respectable bunch.” “Well, it’s another Yang that did this to Percy,” Gwen quickly explained the situation. “... rather than taking it out on the duelling field, he tried to ambush Percy in public.” “Hmm.” Her grandfather's bulldog jowls quivered. “Your counsel, Grandfather?” “What's your intent?” “Bring Alain here as a companion for Percy,” Gwen ground her teeth. “A tad worse for wear, of course.” “That might be unreasonable.” Guo's mildness caught her off-guard. “The right thing to do would be to get them to issue compensation and an apology.” “I asked for that,” Gwen complained, wondering if Percy had fallen out of favour. “The Ma boy said Alain's too proud for that. But I am perfectly capable of squeezing blood from a rock if need be.” “Hmm... even for the Yangs, not offering a public apology is a little presumptuous.” Guo raised a brow. “If you're indisposed, Grandfather, I can handle this myself,” her voice grew impious. "No one touches Percy." "A commendable sentiment." Guo appraised his granddaughter's passion. “I’ll go and challenge the little prick and anyone else they’re willing to throw at me. I could also take Tao's advise. I am sure an apology is easier to stomach than being homeless.” To her astonishment, Guo patted her shoulder disarmingly. “The Yangs… have given much to the Party.” Her grandfather pointed to the city below. “One son during the first collapse of the Front, then another in the Reclamation. Only recently, they lost their sole remaining male heir to a rebellion in Tibet. They have no Magisters left; a few women Maguses remain, but no one of note. Do you truly wish to browbeat a family like that, knowing your guan-xi with the Fungs? With me? With your Uncle Jun and his... dragon?” “I…” The fire she'd been stoking dimmed. “That would be bullying.” “That is the correct answer.” Guo took a deep breath. “Still - an apology must be had. Direct involvement of Jun or I would only make our House lose face, so I'll leave it to you. Can I trust you handle it, tactfully?” “I’ll do my best, Grandfather,” Gwen replied, thinking of her brother's broken body next door. “Percy will have his apology, one way or another.” Unaware of his family discussing the matter of his vengeance outside, Percy readied himself for restful slumber, hoping that when he woke, his bones would have mended and he could return to school. Not only that, grandmother had promised that after her acupuncture technique, his bones would be better fortified against future mishaps. Other than that, Gwen's screw up aside, it had been a good day. Having Mei, Captain Ma and Vice-Cap Li visit him was tremendously inspiriting, filling his chest with a cosy warmness. Conversely, having Gwen teary-eyed as she attempted to feed him in front of Kelvin, Don and Mei was torture. Thankfully, he was soon left alone. With his family and friends gone for the night, he circulated a mote of mana into the Kirin Amulet nestled against his chest, then descended into darkness. When Percy opened his eyes again, he knew it to be a lucid dream. He knew this because the sensation of estrangement from his physical body was identical to the one he experienced while under the influence of the Amulet’s ritual. Calmly, without undue alarm, he scrutinised his surroundings. A mausoleum. More precisely, the Song's family tomb in Hubei. The oppressive atmosphere was as he recalled, made more so vivid by the hundreds of Spirit-plaques decorating the place, each with names of his ancestors carved into chunks of incense-wood. “Hail, child of Ying Xing.” A voice floated through the air as an unearthly chill infused his spine. Holy shit! Percy sniffed the air and scanned the scene, scanning for the source of his unease. Stay calm! He commanded himself. His stoicism surprised even himself. The lite-Necromancy he had committed in Hangzhou was doing wonders for his tolerance against supernatural surprises. More importantly, what had the voice declared? Song Ying Xing? Wasn't that the progenitor? His first suspicion had been that the dream was brought on by the entity in the Amulet, whose presence he had felt but could never decipher. Strangely, his second thought was of his sister. “Hail.” Percy bowed, his body feeling distended and displaced. “May I ask who…” “This one knows of the living heir.” The disembodied voice resonated across the hallowed hall. Living heir? Percy recalled his grave-sweeping visit with the family to their Hubei home. As the heir of House Song, he had spent three hours dusting down every nook and cranny of the mausoleum, eyeballing every plaque an inch away from his nose to make sure that not a single spec of grime remained. After Guo saw just how eagerly he had applied himself, Percy’s grandfather grew mightily pleased, praising Percy in front of Ying Xing’s plaque with such fervency that for a spine-tingling minute, he'd thought Guo was enacting a Necromantic ritual. After that, they left to join the rest of the village, setting off hundreds of lanterns, filled with wishes and messages to their ancestors, into the sky. The spectacle had touched Percy quite profoundly: there was something to be said when at the stroke of midnight, from all around the mountain, the river, the village below and the city in the distance, a great river of lanterns lifted into the air, turning the horizon into a vista of light. So, was this 'being' one of his ancestors? Had 'he' come to answer the messages he wrote on the lantern, asking for a blessing no less than Gwen's? If so, could an ancestral blessing be considered Necromancy by the Tower? “My Lord.” Percy swallowed, remembering his grandfather’s instructions. “This descendent greets the Ancestor.” Slowly, the miasma coalesced within the chamber collected until it formed into a shape more familiar to Percy than even the Ancestral Hall and its plethora of dead Songs etched onto plaques. First came a stag’s horns, then a tiger’s maw, fishes’ scales, lion’s mane, carp’s whiskers, solidifying until Percy gasped with breathless anticipation. There was no doubting it. From its presence, it’s guise and aura - he was facing the real deal. This must be the being inside his Amulet! Swirling motes of Negative Energy surrounded its body. Percy recognised the mana of the miasma shrouding the Kirin's skin like a rash; it belonged to him. It was the ritual used by the Songs. A sudden thrill ran through his body. If Gwen could tame herself a Kirin, why couldn't he? Whatever she could manage, he was confident he could as well. “Long has this one slumbered.” The Kirin’s voice was rumbling thunder on a stormy, cloudless night. “Until awakened by the intrusion of a nameless one.” Nameless one? Was that Gwen’s doing? Percy racked his brain. “Lord Kirin.” “Do not patronise me, Child of Song, let us broker no words of deceit.” The Kirin thundered. “This one and the heir are not allies.” “Umm… we are not?” Percy almost kicked himself. Did he fuck up already? What did Gwen do to get on the Kirin's side? An offering? Offer what? Herself? “Foolish youth. It was your ancestor who deceived this one.” The Kirin exhaled two churning streams of jet-black ash, slicing the air with its whiskers. "A despicable man.” Maybe I should get the hell out of here. Percy eyed the exit. To his chagrin, the gate of the Ancestor’s Hall opened into an abyss of space. “Having now roused from slumber, this one shall broker for thy pitiable ritual no more! The heir will no longer usurp this one's strength!” Wait, WHAT?! Percy did a double take. What the hell does that mean? What about his training? From above, the Kirin's eyes were twin orbs of smouldering stone. No, that can’t be right. Percy willed himself to focus. Necromancy was always 'take', never 'give'. “If it's your Essence” he accused the Kirin. “I bet I can still use the ritual and compel your stone to give up its nourishment.” Perhaps because it had been caught lying, the Kirin grew in stature. Instantly, its presence filled the tomb. Before its Demi-God visage, Percy was a slab of fish! But the motes of Negative mana cascading from the Kirin's side told a different story. For a minute, boy and Kirin both observed one another. “Your words hold some weight,” the Kirin’s annoyance rocked the interior of the mausoleum, cascading dust and ash all over. “Yet how soon you forget the reason for your sad state. Did your Fulu not fail when you needed it the most?” Fulu? Percy searched his brain for the unfamiliar term. Fulu- 'Fu'- those were Taoist talismans, were they not? Did the Kirin think his westernised Spellcraft was a form of sectarian Taoist magic? “What are you saying?” Percy demanded. “What does my Spellcraft have to do with…” “The Protection charm which you abused with such liberty,” the Kirin continued. “And your body-transfusion sorcery, do you truly believe they belong to you? That you’re a genius?” “It was you?!” Percy was an intelligent and perceptive young man. “Good, thou comprehends," the Kirin gloated. "This one could go on, but one tires of unprofitable word-games. As thy ancestor had broken his compact to this one, so now one demands reparation from his descendant.” Though his instinct told him to leap out the door and into the abyss, Percy remained in front of the Kirin. Did this mean that he had been chosen? Was he elected for some higher purpose? What of his sister? Did she not meet the ancestors? “What did the progenitor promise you?” Percy carefully enquired. “Servitude, then freedom.” The Kirin loomed over him with the oppressiveness of a tombstone. “But then an imbecile split my heart stone in two, negating the possibility of this one's eventual emancipation!” Grandfather Guo! Percy blinked. Holy Kirin shit, no fucking way! His Grandfather had split the family amulet in twain to give both Jun and Hai a chance, breaking the Song's tradition of having ‘one’ true heir. “Lord Kirin, what is your desire?” Percy kept his voice level and steady, hiding his excitement. “The other half of this one's heart-stone.” “...” Percy's silence refuted the Kirin’s claim. There was no way he could do anything to uncle Jun, nor did he want to. “This one does not make demands without commensuration,” the Kirin continued. “Within this one's wisdom lies the knowledge of your ancestors, two hundred generations of them, each a Master in their own right. Even in the parlance of thy ineffective Fulu, this one can trivialise all obstacles in the heir's cultivation!” "Your meaning?" "This heir would be a Master in no more than a decade!" Though the Kirin spoke of his ascension, for some reason, all Percy could think of was Gwen returning victorious from the IIUC. In three years, it would be his turn. He would join the IIUC, and there, he would supersede Gwen's accomplishments! His future would be incandescent! But still, he didn't trust the creature at all. “No,” Percy swallowed his desire. Too much ambition was a dangerous thing. “No deal. I am not harming my family.” “FOOL!” the Kirin roared. “Dost thou believe that this one demands the lives of thy living kin?!” “Then…” “As heir, the other half of the Amulet will return to thee, one day,” the Kirin explained. “Be it naturally, or via conspiracy, that is not for this one to enact nor say. This one is an immortal being. What is half-a-century when this one has waited for over a millennium? This one desires a deal - that within thy natural lifespan, thou shall join the two halves of this one's heart stone and free one from servitude.” "And in return?" "This one shall aid in thy training; thou shall be as heaven to the mundane earth." Percy mulled the Kirin’s clarified offer. The damn thing was desperate, but they both had their backs against the wall. Without the Kirin’s tacit support, his new found talents would come to an abrupt end, his future training all the more arduous. Instead of catching up to his sister, he would be swimming upstream against the current. The Duelling Team, his university placement, being his sister's equal, they would all have to be forfeited. As for the cost of the Kirin’s offer? The Song’s would lose their Amulet, presumably. But by the time he was an old Magister on his deathbed, who would be left? Guo and Klavdiya would be long gone. Hai and Jun, most assuredly. And Gwen? He somehow doubted someone who could manifest a pseudo-Kirin at seventeen would be hankering for a training crutch. Though Gwen could benefit from the Amulet, her need wasn't dire. Simply put, she couldn't pass on the family name, her training was already leagues ahead of Percy's, and she was in no shortage of Crystals nor Spirit. Percy's final concern was for his future scions, though as a teenager himself, he couldn't conceive of such a thing. Even his grandfather's obsession with the House of Song was but a parcel to his ascension. “Once free, wouldn’t you run amok?” he demanded of the beast. Probing its offer for weaknesses. “If thou cannot best this one even during the infancy of one's rebirth.”The Kirin’s expression grew twisted as a tendril stroked its chin. “Perhaps the cultivator should give up his Dao before he hurts himself.” Fucking dick-mouth, Percy snorted internally, deriding the Kirin's fleshy, prehensile whiskers. His gut feeling told him that the damn thing would absolutely not go peacefully. But then again, who said Percy would hold his end intact? His ancestor was a perfect example, wasn’t he? In time, with power, research, another century of advancement in Spellcraft, he may very well end up with a Kirin for a mount! “And you would accelerate, rather than delay my Spell- Cultivation?” Percy reiterated. “Thy ascension shall be celestial.” The Kirin's whiskers oozed a strangely thick, black liquid. In the light of the tomb, the Kirin's appearance was positively demonic. Wait-a-second, what if this was all just a dream? Percy reminded himself. He was taking a lucid fantasy far too seriously. So long as he had control over himself, over his mind, and so long as he had his sister to give up a helping hand, what need he fear? Why, if he told Gwen- “Thou shall keep this one's contract in confidence,” the Kirin’s burning orbs narrowed. “Else do not blame this one if thy Fulu fails at a most desperate hour.” “What, and lose you the only means of your freedom?” Percy fired back. “… the descendants of the Song are crafty,” the Kirin grumbled. "If this heir is unwilling, this one does not mind if one is returned to his superior Kin." "Kin?" Percy's spine turned to ice. "What Kin?" "One's Sister." The Kirin's visage grew cruel and haughty; its maw dribbled with dark malice. "She and this one could be happy together." The fucking nerve of the damned mongrel! Percy's expression grew instantly dark. "Listen well." He strode toward the beast, his body suddenly alive with vigour. "You and I are in the same fucking boat. Do you understand, ya MUTT? I am your best hope. Gwen will eat you up; you won't even have a whisker left." "The heir is willing then?" With a dire vehemence, Percy caught one of the Kirin's whiskers with a terrific grip, feeling a dull heat singe the skin on his hand. "Yes, I am willing!" The bond between them, the connection previously engendered through the ritual, grew immeasurably more intimate. Percy felt lifted into the air as the haze entered his body, filling every pore with its strange Astral energy. "You fuck me over, mutt," Gwen's brother growled with a fury he didn't know he had possessed. "And I'll make sure you'll be living in limbo for all of eternity." There was a pause. "Then one... obeys." The Kirin bowed. "So long the heir keeps one... fed." In the material world, where Percy's body floated over a bed of air, a warning glyph flared. A night nurse rushed into the room to check the patient's vitals, only to find that all was well. After she triple-checked the Biomancy array, she wrote it off as an error, then resumed her patrol. Meanwhile, hidden under Percy's bandages, the Kirin-Stone Amulet turned the colour of jet. Jun shot awake, covered in a snail-sheen of cold sweat. “You were murmuring something.” Ayxin sat by the bedstead, her eyes casting a gentle glow over the hotel room. “Bad dream?” “... Do you always watch me sleep?” Jun remarked, unnerved by the sight of Dragon-kin looming over his once sleeping form. He reminded himself that Ayxin was, despite the perfection of her current guise, an apex predator. “My kind rarely sleeps outside of our domain, so yes.” Ayxin’s eyes swept over her lover’s body. She could sense the rushing of his blood, the air in his lungs, the Ash in his mana conduits, and the thrumming Essences of Magical Creatures stowed within the amulet around Jun's neck. Now that her man was awake, what had once been a tranquil balance of the metaphysical was now thrown into disarray. “What’s wrong? Why did you rise?” Jun touched a hand to his pendant. “Nothing. Just a bad feeling.” He circulated a mote of mana into the heirloom device, failing to find any irregularity. Ayxin slipped back onto the bed, serpentine in the manner her waist arched and her limbs folded around Jun’s torso. She pressed her palms against his chest, then circulated her Essence into her lover’s body, probing Jun’s conduits for symptoms of damage or distress. “I sense nothing.” She laid a pale cheek against his neck. “You’re fine.” Jun took her hand in his own, his other hand resting on her thighs. “If we were on the Mount, I could use the Scrying Pool,” Ayxin advised. “Maybe it’s that niece of yours again. According to my father, her time of peace should be ending very soon.” “I'd imagine that being the case.” Jun wetted his dry lips. “No one ever said the IUCC would be safe.” “There is no need to fret.” The corner of Ayxin’s mouth formed into a curl. “Father promised her that Golos would be there thrice. She’ll be fine.” Jun wanted to say the Yinglong's involvement made it worse, though he knew Axyin was right. There was nothing he could do, not to mention Gwen was more than capable of taking care of herself. Relaxing his shoulders, Jun guiltily kissed the Dragon-kin's delicate fingers. With Ayxin's white-jade figure lounged against his chest, Jun couldn’t help but feel that he had betrayed something of the life he had lived, tempering his craft like an esoteric Daoshi, waist-deep in Undead. “Hahaha,” Ayxin’s laughter was accompanied by daring fingers. Jun looked down. “You did that on purpose!” He couldn’t help but taunt his insatiable lover. Once Ayxin had gotten past her prudish pride, it was as though a dam had broken. As for Jun, his usual apathy to delights of the flesh was swept away by the supply of draconic-vigour supplied by Axyin. The first time they had finally gotten down to business, the double-king frame snapped under the vigour of what Gwen had sulkily dubbed the horizontal fandango, attracting a mid-night apology from the management of the Pudong Ritz-Carlton. “Privacy Mode,” Jun commanded the room. The double-drape curtains, enchanted to block Divination, closed of their own volition. The first time Ayxin had invited him to enjoy the view, he had remarked with a throbbing vein a very terrible observance. On his right was the looming form of the Pearl of the Orient, A.K.A the Pudong Tower, looming only five blocks away and close enough that he could see the Mages working late into the evening. On his left, some six kilometres away, was the CCP Super-Structural Tower, looming at half the height of the Ritz-Carlton but covering a dozen-times the ground space, one of its Towers pointed right toward him. Was it a coincidence that the presidential suite just happened to be wedged between the two Towers, within strategic-Scry range? Ayxin pushed him against the bedframe. He was a patriot, Jun grumbled. But he wasn't THAT patriotic.

Eric Walken took a sip from his bone china cup, closed his eyes to savour the taste, then gingerly rested it against the porcelain saucer with a crisp clink. “Did you manage to keep your head?” “Mmm,” Gwen murmured over sips of Royal Earl Grey. “You lie better when you're angry.” Ignoring her opponent's smug superiority, Gwen instead allowed the scent of Wildland cornflower and bergamot to enliven her tastebuds. It was Walken's shout; according to him, she should be glad because there was only so much tea left from the pre-colonial days. “So?” “So what?” “What’s your plan?” The Magister indicated to the table, or perhaps he was referring to herself. "Go on; help yourself." To return the favour for her sponge cake, Walken bought tea and scones with fresh cream and homemade jam. When she marvelled at the spectacle of a Magister making strawberry conserve, Walken expressed that thanks to a diluted aristocratic lineage, his mother had possessed a deft hand at crafting artisanal preserves of all kinds, a trade he had inherited after her passing. In fact, within his storage ring, he had no less than fifty jars in fourteen flavours, each a unique product of his physical labour. Cautious but curious over Walken's boastful narrative-laden conserve, Gwen halved a warm scone with her butter knife in readiness. “To answer your question, I am going to pay the Yang family a visit this evening,” Gwen informed her Instructor. “Grandfather wants a public apology.” “That's what he wants. What about you? What do you want?” “A good grovelling would be a good start.” Gwen applied the jam liberally. The cream was a little runny, so she dipped her conserve-covered morsel instead. Walken watched as the girl bit off a tad more than she could chew, cramming the rest into her mouth before the jam and cream dribbled on her dress. How was it that this scone-eating glutton had cornered him? Walken reflected as he passed her a serviette. He suspected that not even Kilroy would have believed his Apprentice of attaining such heights of larceny. The girl dabbed the cream from her mouth, then gave her lips a once over with her tongue. Having tasted its sweetness, she eyed the rest of the marmalade hungrily. “Eye for an eye,” the girl answered, crumbling a second scone. “Surely that’s not asking for too much.” “That's not what you told me earlier.” “No,” she grumbled. “The family’s protected by some Saving Private Ryan bullshit.” “Saving who?” Walken raised a brow. “Some guy called Ryan,” Gwen explained, feeling generous. “Lost a whole bunch of brothers, so he’s the last Mage standing in his House. Tower says maybe this family should have at least one child surviving after giving so much to the Frontier, so they send in a Hero Magus trying to extract the boy from the Front. Hero leads a party into the heart of the war, losing guys left and right until he finally finds junior Ryan. The problem is, Junior Ryan refuses to leave his mates, so Hero stays and fights, ultimately dying so that Junior Ryan could return home. That's who this Alain Yang is, the last man, and he thinks he’s bloody invincible because anyone who kicks his ass would be bullying a venerable old House filled with widows.” “That’s… quite the story.” Walken racked his brain, bemused that the girl was telling the truth. “Yet, I don't believe I’ve never heard of this.” “Master told me the story.” Gwen cloaked her uneasy deception with a scone. "Mmmmph... maybe a different war? Somewhere in Europe?" “Right…” Walken studied her face. “But you know, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.” “Oh, I know.” “Do you now? Then tell me. What type of revenge have you planned? What are you after? Despoilment? Leverage? Control?” “There are types of revenge?!” “Revenge should never just involve brutalising your opponents.” Walken raised a finger. “It shouldn’t be immediate either. Before one takes on the role of an Avenger, one’s purpose must be made explicit. Needless vengeance brings nought but suffering; retribution should accompany restitution." Does Walken think he's Titus Andronicus? Gwen ruminated upon the buttery dough. I am not fomenting a blooding Roman tragedy here! “I just want an apology,” she explained carefully. “I don’t see why they would refuse. My ire carries some weight these days; I'd imagine.” “How optimistic.” Walken chortled. “Why, do you have something to add, Eric?” “Gwen.” Eric Walken formed the tips of his fingers into a triangle just under his chin. “Care for some advice from someone who has survived three decades of intrigue? I promise to satisfy.” "You talk big." "I never just talk." Gwen considered her Instructor's confidence. Walken reminded her of a manager waiting to show her a project proposal. "If this goes pear-shaped, I want ten flavours of conserve as compensation." "Deal." Walken winced, touching a finger to his Storage Ring. "Consider this a trial for the wisdom I shall dispense in the IIUC to come." “Well then.” Gwen inspected her piece of cake. “What did you have in mind?” “Master Alain has taken ill and is not taking guests,” a pale and shuddering servant informed her stone-faced guest, cowering before her towering visage. Almost disbelieving her ears, Gwen turned toward her guide, the affable Mei, who stood red as a beetroot beside the giantess. “Tell Alain he has five minutes to present himself and make his case in person.” Gwen reiterated her demand, dispensing with the politeness. “Or else he can stay cooped up in there for the rest of his natural life.” “Yi, tell Alain to get out here!” Mei hissed beside Gwen. “This isn’t a joking matter! Where is Aunty Vivian?” The servant quickly scurried away. Sweating profusely, Mei invited Gwen to sit with her in the main living room while they waited. Visibly fuming, Mei's guest settled into a tub-chair with her back arched and her legs crossed, her simmering furore just shy of its boiling point. Beside her, Gwen’s host remarked the way her senior seemed to fill up the spacious living room effortlessly, her worshipful orbs studying every inch of Gwen’s smouldering visage. Gazing into the middle-distance, Gwen thought back on Walken’s divined foresight. Though not explicit on details, Walken had correctly described the core strategy the Yangs would employ: to delay and hope Gwen would go away. That Gwen herself had miscalculated Alain Yang's resolve was also infuriating. After all, just for the occasion, she had prepared a battle-garb. Considering the information at hand, she had hoped that a first-impression foot-in-door approach would suffice. To that end, she attired herself to appear bold and resolute. From the feet-up, she had equipped a pair of four-inch black stilettos with stockings in sable, paired with a high-waisted plaid skirt, finished with a charcoal collared blouse and a white-ribbon tie. Additional auxiliary arnaments included straightened hair, bold eye-liners and a matt lipstick with a palette called ruby-revenge. But for all her imposing impressiveness, she struck a wall the moment she requested Alain's presence. Beside her, Mei's head lowered apologetically. “Please accept my apologies, Senior. Mother is away on assignment, and Aunty Vivian has run of the house, if you don’t mind waiting just a day or two, I am sure we will have a satisfactory answer for you.” “Mei.” Gwen reached over with a finger and lifted her chin. “This isn’t your fault. I don’t even want to harm Alain. I want a public apology for my brother.” “I know that.” Mei glanced in the general direction of the west wing courtyard. The Yang estate had a setup just like the Songs, consisting of four quadrants. Mei's family lived in the east wing while the branch family lived in the west. The south held rooms for the servants, including the main kitchen, and the north consisted of a communal area connecting to the central feature-garden. When neither Alain nor a servant with tea emerged after five minutes, Mei keened for the future of her House. “Take a seat,” Gwen implored her host. “I am a patient woman. Why don’t we talk about something, Percy said that you wanted to see me?” “I did, Ma'am!” Mei flushed. "I am sorry we had to meet under these circumstances." "No worries," Gwen assured her. "So, what do you want to know?" For the next ten minutes, Mei fired off a barrage of inquiries. What was it like in Fudan? When do the courses start each year? How competitive were the students? Who were her Instructors? Why did she pick Fudan over Jiantong? Gwen meanwhile, engaged in counter-intelligence, affirming that Mei's mother worked as a low-level Secretary for an outer District west of Shanghai's CBD. It would appear that other than their Matriarch, the rest of the family lived on a collection of government subsidy and widows' pensions. It was why Alain's mother, an only child enjoying the rare support of her family, positioned herself as an economic cornerstone within the surviving Yang household. “Can… can I see your Void Magic?” Mei pleaded, her eyes glimmering with desire. “Does it consume everything as they say?” Not adverse to humouring the girl, Gwen performed a little experiment with a tea-cup, handing over to Mei half a glass perfectly sliced in two. “Mao!” Mei thumbed the half-consumed vessel as though she had uncovered an unearthly treasure. “Would you like to see Ariel?” “CAN I?” “Of course,” Gwen addressed Mei with a friendly smile. She felt a motherly affection for the girl - though arguably, their shared Lightning Element was likely the culprit. “Ariel!” “EE! EE!” Ariel appeared on the plush carpet, poised and handsome, its mane moved by an unseen breeze, a star in its very own dog-food commercial. “Oh, ancestors.” Mei trembled with excitement. “Can… can I feed it?” This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. “Of course,” Gwen directed Ariel to play nice with Mei. “Take your time.” It took all but a few minutes to lure out the rest of the household. “IS THAT A KIRIN?” “Leilei! There’s a KIRIN HERE!” “AEEEE!” “Lingzi greets Senior Song.” “Leilei greets Senior Song.” “Yaozi greets Senior Song.” “Hello, girls,” Gwen greeted Mei’s relatives. Embarrassed by their lack of manners, Mei introduced her family members. Lingzi and Leilei were her younger sisters, while Yaozi was her cousin. “Ah-Hui, Ah-Jia, come look, a real Kirin!” An older woman in her thirties joined the gaggle of giggling girls. “Greetings Ma’am.” Gwen rose from her seat. “Don’t mind us, Miss Song.” Mei’s youngest aunty flanked the fray, unable to resist Ariel’s allure. “It’s we who should be apologising.” Servants as well, came from the other sections of the house to witness the fabled Kirin of Fudan, powerless to constrain their curiosity. By Gwen's count, there were almost twenty individuals in the central courtyard, all of which were women. Good God, her cheeks twitched, wondering if anyone had ever been hen-pecked to death in a place like this. As more women emerged, a picture began to paint itself. Why was it that Alain Yang refused to present himself for a scalding? Why did the Yangs fear no retribution from a family like the Songs? Where did the boy get his confidence? The answer was right here. The noble and distinguished Yangs had been reduced to a house of women; ones who lived in an ivory palace, protected by reputation and sympathy. And Alain? The boy grew up in such a place! How suffocatingly must he be doted upon, the vehicle of the lineage's bloodline talent, knowing that only he could carry on the name ‘Yang’? “Mrs Yang,” Gwen accosted the aunty. “Are you able to speak for-” “No, I am afraid.” The woman gave her a wane expression of helplessness, already regretting not recusing herself. “But I will ask my late cousin's wife to come and speak to you.” “That would be great. Thank you.” Gwen breathed out, watching the woman saunter away. “Eeee! EE!” “So cute!” “Adorable!” “I am in love!” “Feel its fur!” Gwen almost felt guilty watching the guileless women gang-petting Ariel, drunk on fonts of oxytocin. After a while, the aunty returned with a servant. "This is Ah-Bān," The aunty's face was a cloud of harried displeasure. It wasn't hard to imagine the tongue lashing she'd just received. "Vivian says to take him and... excuse yourself." Ah-Bān immediately collapsed to his knees, touching his head to the ground. "It is Ah-Bān's fault that Young Master Song was wounded." Ah-Bān grovelled. "Please punish Ah-Bān." That they sent out a servant to be vilified incensed Gwen considerably, though her feeling of the moment was a crushing sympathy for the pitiful attendant. To Gwen, punishing Ah-Bān was no different than shooting an irresponsible owner's dog for biting her kin. The guard dog was doing its job; why should it be punished for loyalty? A single word from Alain would have tethered Ah-Bān to the ground, harmless as a statue. "Ah-Bān." Gwen's stiletto was an inch from the grovelling servant's face. "You don't have to apologise for Alain, and I won't accept your apology." "Please, it's Ah-Bān's fault!" The simple man begged. "No, as I said..." "Please punish this Ah-Bān for his transgression!" To her surprise and mild disgust, the man touched his forehead to the tip of her shoe. An arc of electricity zinged from the metal plate holding up her four-inch heel. "Ah-Bān! Get up!" She slipped a sliver of Dragon-fear into her voice. As though bitten in the ass by a Mongolian Death Worm, Ah-Bān stood. "Miss, please punish-" "Ah-Bān, shut up," Gwen growled. "Have some respect for yourself man! You're a human being! Not a masochistic dog!" The man slowly raised his head. He'd thought himself tall, but this Mistress Song was taller still by an inch. "You stay here and don't move," Gwen gave the man an order before turning to Mei's younger relatives. "So, this Aunty Vivian of yours: is she a naked Mole-rat or what? In what stratum, under what subterranean depth is she hiding?" Lingzi, Leilei, and Yaozi all burst into laughter. "Eeee! Eeee!" Ariel joined in as well. "What's a naked mole-rat?" Mei asked, fighting her impolite mirth. "A hairless rat, ugly as sin, looks like a wet bag of pink skin. It's got a nose like a star, with five little fingers it uses for digging - look, I'll show you. Minor Image!" Horrible at anything other than graphical data, Gwen conjured an abstract testicle. "Haaa! Haahaa!" "Haaa! Oh, Mao!" "I can see Aunty as a naked Mole-rat for sure." “ARE YOU QUITE DONE YET? MISS SONG?” Finally! Gwen breathed out. The voice that next emerged from the west wing filled the air space like a raid-siren. Like Helena Huang, Vivian Yang possessed the sort of banshee timbre that assailed one's eardrums like nails on a chalkboard, a decibel away from decimating wineglass. The crowd parted to reveal who could only be Alain’s mother, a hellcat of a woman with a scrunched face, her hair piled in a manner that screamed 'I demand to see your manager'. Unbowed, Gwen straightened herself, meeting the woman halfway. When they finally stood toe to toe, Gwen was almost a head taller, awarding her a clear physical vantage. “My Alain will not be bullied by the likes of you!” Gwen could feel the elemental Fire radiating from Vivian's body like the glow from a roaring furnace. “You think your family can threaten us? Just you try! Let’s see how the PLA likes it when the Yang family's trodden on, huh?!” The woman wasn’t uncomely, though Gwen noted she was extremely annoying. “Miss Vivi-” “YOUR BROTHER~!” Alain’s mother continued, her chest enormous and heaving, threatening to body-check Gwen's less endowed attributes. “Is a little white-faced soft-rice eater!” Gwen blinked. What the hell is a soft-rice eater? Did the woman mean porridge? Beside her, Mei’s face turned the colour of liver even as her sisters giggled and snickered. Like a Tiger Shark sensing blood, Vivian Yang fell upon Mei. “YOU LITTLE STRUMPET!” Vivian barked, her face a mask of indignant horror, as though she'd caught Mei looking for Li's at Nanjing Road. “I wonder, are you still a virgin? If not, Alain will take one of your sisters. How do you like that?!” “Ewww!” “I don’t want to! Alain's ugly!” The sisters immediately burst into protest. “Now, now.” Gwen put up a hand to interrupt aunt Vivian's rebuttal. “Let’s keep this civ-” “DON’T TOUCH ME!” the woman snapped at her, almost biting her fingers. “Who do you think you are?!” “Aunty Vivian…” Mei pleaded. “You shut your whore mouth!” Vivian Yang howled the girl into submission. “Wait until your mother gets home; the things I am going to tell her! To think she’s working herself to the bone at the government office, keeping you girls at some of the best schools in Shanghai, and all she’s getting in return is ungrateful children who…” Gwen locked out the female equivalent of white noise. She hated to admit it, but Walken had been right on the marmalade. A contingency plan made controlling one’s temper far easier. "Caliban!" she silently commanded her other Familiar. "It's time." Caliban stirred. It had waited, invisible, on the roof for so long that its grey-drool had encrusted into crispy snail-trails against the seams of its carapace. “!” An order came from its Master. Void-tinged slime oozed from between its reticulated chitin. With a barely audible plop, it landed in the bedroom of the one who had attracted the ire of its Mistress. Alain Yang stared forlornly at his abused visage in the mirror. His handsome mien was ruined, destroyed, despoiled by the hated Percy Song. First, the bastard stole his Mei mēimēi, and now the er-bī had ravaged his good looks! Apologise? No way. He would rather die twice over than to cower in front of Percy Song, watching the young man’s self-righteous mug twist in satisfaction. How could they fault him? Be it the House of Yang, or Mei, they all belonged to him, and he would go to any length to ensure that it stayed that way. “Hmmph!” Now that Alain thought of it, wouldn't the greatest pleasure be to deny Percy Song his love of Mei? The only reason Alain had felt so strongly about Percy's friendship with Mei was the fact that Percy wanted what belonged to him. Alain rechecked his reflection. A part of his scalp, about two fistfuls of hair, was removed entirely, leaving a bald-patch that the Medical-Mages said may never recover naturally. When he protested, they informed his mother that nothing short of a minimum tier 5 Regenerate would be enough to re-grow the boy's decimated follicles. But the House of Yang didn’t have the clout to spare for such a thing. A civilian-tier Regenerate scroll wasn't rare, but it was classified and subject to supply-constraint. Conversely, A military-issue Spell Scroll was too difficult to acquire without the necessary connections. Angrily, Alain glared at his appearance, growing more upset with every moment. Just now, after his mother’s youngest sister came, his mother had sent out Ah-Bān as an offering of peace. Having grown up with Ah-Bān, Alain had been unwilling - though he knew better than to try to rebuke his mother. After all, it was Ah-Bān who had launched Percy into the street, an act which Alain had awarded 10 HDMs. But as expected, Ah-Bān wasn't enough. After the whole courtyard erupted into laughter, his mother could take it no longer and went to deal with Gwen Song herself. Even now, he could hear her banshee screeches going off at full tilt at Percy’s sister. Alain smirked. His mother was a Mao-damned force of nature, but when she could steer her destructive potential toward outside forces, the woman was without equal. “Let's see how you like her banshee wail…” he chuckled to himself. ‘Plop!’ A strange sound resonated through the space of his spacious bedroom. Alain turned. “Hello?” he said to the room. Perhaps it was one of the other servants, Yi maybe. His eyes floated over the unmolested details of his bed, his bannister, his table, his chest-of-drawers. ‘Tsssss!’ Something sizzled. Alain looked down. A drop of some strange liquid had fallen between his legs and was now eating a hole through the chair. Reflexively, he looked up. "!" A sensation of sudden vertigo slammed into his brain as Alain fought to keep his eyes peeled. The hellish visage that emerged consisted of an open maw, fully a meter-wide, pink and lined with razor-sharp teeth, from within which two tentacles writhed as though pregnant with slithering horrors. Petrified, Alain's helpless eyeballs followed the contour of the beast until they took in the creature's visage in its entirety. From above, limbs that were spindly and spider-like, akin to rapiers, long, thin and obsidian, trapped him as though a bone cage had descended overhead. “SHAAAAAA!” A splatter of grey-goo fell on his face. “ARRRRRGH! ARRRRGH! ARRRRGH!!!” His handsome face was forfeit! Though the gloop was merely cold and clammy, all Alain could do was scream. In an instant, the boy became a marionette of whatever natural impulse his failing biology chose to impose upon its terrified flesh. First, he pissed himself; then after a moment, as though his large intestines were trying to flee his trembling, paralysed form, Alain fertilised his underpants. “SHAAAA! SHAAAA! SHAAAA!” the creature matched his screeching, bar for off-tune bar. Caught in the odious-throes of his noxious expulsions, Alain vomited, kneeling over until he was curled into a ball, hugging his shit-stained knees to his chest, his eyes spinning in their sockets. ‘Click!’ A door opened. “Master! Are you alright?!” A girl-servant who attended Alain’s needs from outside the bedroom pushed into the room. Like the others, she had been distracted by the commotion caused by the Kirin and hadn’t noticed her Master’s cries until they grew loud enough to penetrate the sound-warded walls. “AEEEEYAAA!” She burst into a terrific clamour. Her Master was rolling in a puddle of his own sick and excreta! As more details filled her vision, her heart sank; at this moment, she hated the young man so much it was difficult to put her agony into words. Was this - was this a new way to abuse her? Was it because she laughed at his hair?! Gwen returned her consciousness to the present once Caliban was safely tucked away in its pocket dimension. “You white-eyed wolf! How could you invite the sister of that soft-rice eating whore-son into our home…” Jesus Christ, Gwen took a breather to gather her wits. How is it that the woman was still going? Vivian Yang's capacity for inventive abuse was expert enough to attract an hourly rate. “ENOUGH!” she snapped back, her Essence-infused command cracking the air like a super-sonic bullwhip. A wave of Dragon-Fear radiated out from where Gwen stood, paralleled by twin-circles of electric blue illuminating the amber of her eyes so that her irises grew viridescent. “Another word out of you, and I am leaving. And once I leave, I am not coming back.” “THEN LEAVE!” Alain’s mother grew triumphant. Her face full of self-exaltation as her Fire-Affinity fought off the paralysis imbued by Gwen’s projected prescence. "Very well." Gwen turned to Mei. "I will say my piece, then go." "Gwen-" “Mei.” She took the girl’s hands. “If you do not want to marry this woman’s 'whore-son', you just let me know. If you're willing to trust me, I can assure you beyond any doubt that NOTHING can compel you into an unhappy marriage.” “HOW DARE-” Gwen glared at the woman. This time, she focused her Essence. Alain’s mother choked as though taken by the throat. Mei shuddered as Gwen continued. “Regardless of your relationship with Percy, know that I am offering you not only my protection - but also my Grandfather’s as well. If need be, even the Nantong Fungs will give you and your mother a helping hand.” “Thank you.” Mei swallowed. “I…” “No need.” Gwen hugged Mei close to her chest to hide a pang of oppressive self-loathing at having to play out Walken's advise. “If your mother is keen to move to a better Secretarial Department, she can speak to my grandfather. He’ll put in the right word with the right people.” “Senior Song!” “Miss Gwen!” “Thank you, Sis!” Mei’s relatives gushed with adoration, swept off their feet by Gwen's unexpected generosity. To think that the Worm Handler had come for retribution, only to deliver salvation! What a good person she was! How rare and precious! “As for you.” Gwen turned to the dumbfounded mother of Alain. “Pray that we do not meet again.” “Mei!” Gwen extended a hand to Mei. “Yes, Sister!” “My coat.” “Right here!” Gwen slipped into her jacket, assisted by her fellow Lightning sorceress. “Ariel!” Her Kirin followed overhead. Like a queen in the finale of a film, she strode from the central courtyard on clicking heels, cutting a dashing and unforgettable picture through the door - beyond which a chauffeur Gwen had earlier requisitioned from Mina awaited. Key to the ploy, Walken explained, was to get the hell out so that the ball was firmly left in her opponent's court. ‘Thunk!’ The door slammed. With a final wave at Mei, Gwen was away. Vivian Yang was the first to recover. “Mei!” Alain's mother immediately caught the object of her ire. By now she had realised that the girl had left a world of troubles at her doorstep. If Mei's mother was to move to an actual department with influence and power, there was no way she could pressure Mei or her sisters into marrying Alain. Moreso, if word of the generosity of the Songs spread, there would be mounting pressure for Alain to apologise. “You’re in for a world of-” “MILADY!” A servant rushed into the courtyard. “WHAT IS IT?” the wannabe Matriarch barked at the servant. “It’s Master Alain!” “What is it?” “Master Alain… h- he’s…” “Out with it!” “Master’s Alain’s not himself! He's shat himself!”

It took another week for Percy to return to school. Meanwhile, the public news was that Alain Yang had taken seriously ill and that the boy would be taking the rest of the term off to recuperate. Naturally, rumours were cultivated, then flew circles around the campus. Some said that Alain’s condition was a result of his House’s inter-factional drama. Others alluded to the strange co-incidence that Percy’s sister had visited the Clan of Yang. A few well-connected informants remarked that after Biomancers had performed examinations on the young Alain, they found no injury nor signs of magic used on the boy. As for Gwen, she had been with the family the entire time, going as far as to take Vivian Yang’s abuse for a good ten minutes before she lost her temper and left in a huff. Later in the week, new rumours surfaced. Gwen's culpability was further 'refuted' by Mei herself, who proudly informed the others of the fact that Secretary Song had recommended Mei’s mother for an escalated promotion. In one bound, she moved from the relatively impoverished District of Zhejiang to the Central Administrative Region of Shanghai proper. The student cohort took note, as did the teachers. The incident impressed upon the minds of the busy students that the House of Song had repaid insult with unbridled generosity. That and no one wishing to keep their pants unsoiled should mess with Percy Song. But Percy's school life was no longer Gwen’s concern. Percy’s sister was now neck-deep in training, paddling through her mid-semester practicals and Tonglv paperwork, riding her Essence like a bucking dragon as April approached, bringing with it the pre-selection round for the IIUC. Buoyed by their mutual understanding, Walken took up the majority of Gwen’s training, working to push her toward her best condition. When Week 8 came to a close, Gwen paid another one of her bi-weekly visits to Magister Wen, whose stoic undertaking of harvesting Void-Matter continued unabated. This time, for Wen's biometric update, an unwelcome guest in the form of a cocky Englishman overlooked her shoulder. Once all the measures were done, Walken, babulya, Wen, and Petra all sat together looking over Gwen's records. Annoyed with the stickybeaks over her shoulder, Wen read out the numbers aloud one by one. “Evocation 5.01.” “Conjuration 5.74.” “Transmutation 3.25.” “Abjuration 2.44.” “Divination 1.65.” “Illusion 2.25.” “St Peter's ghost.” Petra sucked in a breath of cold air. “Your Conjuration growth is absurd! Every tier of Affinity is exponentially more difficult." "You haven’t been snacking, have you?” Wen remarked suspiciously. Even Petra, with all her practice and research, focusing solely on Enchantment, just edged past tier 6. Gwen's expression grew instantly sour - were effort and hard work that hard to believe? “Why the surprise?” Walken placed himself between his student and her critic. “She practices with hyper-tier magic, and she has two Familiars conjured most times of the day. Her expenditure on a good day of practice exceeds 800 VMI, over five times an average acolyte of her age. Perhaps the question should be why her Conjuration isn't higher.” The two Magisters exchanged a chilly back and forth. “Doing unusually well with Transmutation as well,” Wen continued, tapping the paper. “Care to explain?” “Flight tutorials,” Gwen declared her extra-curricular activities. Thanks to a suite of body-enhancements, she was growing accustomed to the G-force exerted by the drops, loops, and sudden accelerations required for dog-fighting, though she had years of catching up to reach Alesia's state of absolute ease, likewise lacking Kitty's natural talent. For now, aerial Void and Lightning Bolt were at a passing rate, while higher-tier magic required momentary immobilisation. Her other first-world regret was the disuniform flight capacity of her creatures. The entire time Ariel dog-paddled beside her effortlessly, she had fantasised about Caliban flying alongside. Capturing a Magical Beast capable of Flight, however, would have to wait until her next opportunistic adventure. Likewise, if there were ways to get her Draconic-deerhounds aloft, it would revolutionise her tactics. “And your VMI…” Walken read on, ignoring his counterpart. When he got to Gwen's metrics, he couldn't help but take a moment to process what he was seeing. "Marie, is that reading accurate?” “It’s correct, Magister Walken.” Magister Wen cleared her throat. "And its Marie-Roslyn, you may call me by my title." “Of course, Marie-Roslyn,” Walken thought out aloud. Seeing Gwen's statistics, he couldn't help but be reminded of his fight with Sobel. “Looking at Gwen, one wonders what Elizabeth Sobel could measure. When we fought, she certainly suffered no shortage of mana nor vitality. The woman was a veritable engine of Void-infused destruction.” “A high Affinity with a VMI over a two or three thousand ought to do it,” Wen observed with displeasure. “I read your report of the Sydney incident. Volumetrically, the Conjure Elemental she deployed would have consumed just over a thousand VMI.” "Mmm... yes, her coverage was certainly... impressive," Walken noted. "I hope you mean monstrous." Gwen's grandmother raised both brows. "I worry for Gwen if that woman's her enemy." "Shultz and de Botton are Sobel's enemies too," Walken reminded Gwen's babulya. "If I were Sobel, I'd worry about the Morning Star first and foremost." Beside her Instructors, their student was in a world of her own, thinking about her Void Elementals, recalling what they had done to that herd of Draconic-Stags. Just the memory was enough to make her shiver. That somehow, combined with Caliban, such a thing had brought her the most orgiastic experience of her life - a euphoric encounter arguably better than sex - AND boosted her Lightning Affinity, was most disconcerting. ‘CLAP!’ Walken's hands met in prayer, waking Gwen from her chamber of horrors. “Well, that’s it!” he announced. “Time to send our baby chick into the world and see how far she could fly.” “It’s only April.” Gwen regarded her Instructor with alarm. “The IIUC doesn’t start until August.” “Nonetheless.” Walken was brimming with confidence. “You and your teammates will have to pass muster. The first few should be without incident, I would think. As for the others, we shall see.” Gwen nodded. With Petra having declined her invitation, it was down to herself, Richard, Lulan and possibly Kitty. Of the three, it was Lulu who worried her. Though the Sword Mage was a fantastic disrupter, her lack of a Spirit made her uncompetitive when pitted against Mages who could rely on their Spirit to manifest magic, possessing both IFF and the means to divert Lulan’s attacks and attack at the same time. Likewise, while Lulan could use her Spell-flurry to negate bodily damage, her berserker-state required extensive recovery time, mayhap even medical attention. For this reason, since January, Gwen had asked Mayuree to look out for Earthen Cores with Elemental Spirits, even a minor one, though no suitable specimens had made it through the House of M’s Auction House since the beginning of the semester. Still, they had until August. If Lulan were to be knocked out, Gwen would lose a vital ally. “If you are all done, I am returning to my laboratory.” Petra's teacher appeared not in the mood for socialising. Considering Wen's research had saved Walken's life, Gwen found it strange that the Magister seemed turned off by Walken. Likely, the astute academic instinctively sensed that Walken was a rotten apple. "Not staying for lunch?" Gwen's babulya implored. "Not today, Klavdiya." “Magister Walken.” Gwen’s babulya extended an open hand. “Will you be joining us? Petra?” Petra looked to her Master, who gave consent. “You have until 2 PM.” Wen bowed her head, then left. “Very well, then.” Walken took Klavdiya's fingers, an act which immediately attracted his student's ire. “Allow me to intrude upon your generosity, Director Song.” Marong and Mayuree sat opposite the radiant form of Miss Maymyint, eldest daughter and the preeminent heir of the House of M. Of the nine surviving children of the Matriarch’s lineage, Maymyint was the oldest, a true child of the worshipful one’s womb, blessed by the Goddess. Maymyint was the tallest of the three siblings present, elegant in her silken saffron attire, her auburn hair pulled back and half-covered by a jewel-encrusted shawl. Her face was sharp, bird-like and predatory, beautiful and imposing, as one might feel while observing a Mithril-taloned Harpy-eagle. Her lips, unlike her siblings’, were tight and severe, a red gash across her pale face. Her eyes as well were formed of twin-slits, darkly made up with bold liners to emphasise her grey irises, punctuated by a hooked hawkish nose. Besides the three, Lei and another young man, Maymyint’s attendant, stood still as a statue, waiting for the slightest need from Miss Maymyint and the siblings. “The Tyrant has demanded his tribute,” Mayuree’s eldest sister informed her lessers. “And you are of age, Mayuree.” Marong’s amber eyes narrowed dangerously. A condensed sliver of smoke oozed from his nostrils until it curled about his general vicinity. Mayuree meanwhile, sat across from Maymyint, pale-faced and loitering, fighting to keep the content of her lunch inside her. Since this morning, she had been suffering a splitting headache; with Gwen so close and all her immediate problems resolved, however, she couldn't figure out why her Divination was screaming blue murder. Now she knew. But she did not regret holding off on a self-Scry. A tangent of fate such as this was more likely a result of her interference than one of unmolested probability. “But I’ve contributed so much to the House!” she protested feebly. “I can’t be the last!” This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. “You did indeed.” Maymyint ignored Mayuree's agitation. “You are not the last this time. In its growing greed, the Tyrant has requested three girls. The House, on the other hand, needs more time. As you are ranked 5th, you will join Mayindra and Mayshweyi. Still, you may survive yet, you of all people should know.” “Maymyint,” Marong growled. “That’s not the deal.” “It is now." Their sister sighed. "Why are you fighting me? I didn't deliver the verdict. Blame the Tyrant." “We’re not accepting it.” “Makes no difference to me,” Maymyint scoffed at the Smoke Mage derisively. “The Manipuri Shadowmen will return you to us, one way or another.” “You forget I was trained in Manipur.” Marong’s form grew hazy. “And you forget why you are ranked third.” Maymyint untangled herself from meditation, freeing her hands for spellcasting. “Brother Marong…” Mayuree interjected before things could escalate. Marong was strong, but when it came to combat strength, Maymyint was preeminent. As for Mayuree; she was dead last. “Mayuree dear.” Maymyint reached across space between them with her claw-like fingers and touched the trembling skin under Mayuree’s fringe. “Do not fret. You were born for this, as was I, as was Marong. Why else would the Goddess bring us into this world?” “But I don’t want this.” Mayuree recoiled as though Maymyint's fingertips were branding irons. Born for this? What kind of life exists to be surrendered? Was the House of M a luxurious cattle pen? Since she was a child, Mayuree had heard the stories. Away from Shanghai, deep in the old country, there slumbered a creature of tooth and nail, scale and tongue, fire and madness, all compressed into a body capable of unimaginable cruelty. Every so often, once a year or a decade if they're lucky, the Tyrant would demand a tithe. The last tithing had occurred when Mayuree was a child, Magus Maymaruya had spoken of how two of her siblings, twins, had been given up, along with hundreds of others. As for her self-Scryed vision, her dalliance with taboo... Mayuree had seen herself, exposed and trembling, waiting for violence to descend. If she were lucky, there'd be gnashing of bloody teeth. If not, her suffering would be unimaginable. It was in that moment of crisis that she caught the silhouette of a familiar body, accompanied by a visage of viridescent irises. But Divination wasn't an exact Spellcraft. What she had seen was a vision, more impression and abstraction than reality and representation. What the revelation foretold was an interjection, not how, when, where or why. In the comfort of recent events, Mayuree had begun to wonder if Gwen had fulfilled her prophecy. When the accounts for the Centurion program came in, herself, Marong, and Magus Maymaruya all could only gawk at the surreality of the Short-Loan Credit Program. Via the House of M's new membership initiative, all of their ventures had been tied into what Gwen had called a closed consumer eco-system. Furthermore, inarticulate in the accounting of credit, their competitors had been mired in the mud of bureaucracy. The company's coffers swelled like a noon-tide. Though Mayuree had no military exploits, no gifts of Spellcraft and no political clout to speak of - she had fattened the family's standing as no fellow sibling had done before. She was no longer last. Far from it, she was fifth! Gwen had saved her life. It wasn’t at all what Mayuree had expected, but her friend had bought her time. The Centurion program would generate countless crystals yet, vastly more, infinitely more. It was a proverbial money tree. When the program reached its maturity, would the House have garnered enough HDMs to move a Tower Faction to eradicate the Tyrant? Safe in fifth-place, she could even wait for her friend to ascend. After all, Mayuree's saviour possessed five Schools of Magic, two Elements, and if age were to be taken into account, her combat potential wildly out-classed their eldest sister, Maymyint. Moreover, Gwen was the scion of an even greater power! When Gwen stated that she desired a Tower one day, Mayuree was under no doubt that her friend would have her way, that given time, Gwen would bestride the world atop her floating fortress! Then, and only then, would Mayuree invite Gwen to her ‘home’, below which the Tyrant would cower! Together, they would put the infernal beast down like a rabid dog and harvest its Core so that finally, Myăma would have its due, and the House of M would no longer be the house of Mú, the House of nothing. That had been Mayuree's plan; until Maymyint appeared. Had the Tyrant sensed something? Was she the victim of a conflict within the House itself? Did someone desire the business that she had built up, wishing to take it for themselves? Either way, refusing to return home was futile. As for Gwen, at this moment, Mayuree no longer could confidently say that her friend had yet to fulfil her destiny. If their ties of fate had indeed been satisfied, then she would only invite Gwen to her death. How could she lead a sister into a trap, knowing that an indomitable foe lurked below? Mayuree lowered her eyes. She had played herself into a Divination paradox. Knowing that Gwen would save her, she had approached her and messed with their fate. Now that Gwen had saved her once, it was unlikely that her friend could do so again. When one railed against fate, strange things happened. Mayuree was a bloodline Diviner, but she was no Oracle of Delphi. “You don’t want what?” Maymyint broke into a mocking bout of bitter laughter. “Since when had what we want mattered?” “Mayuree.” Marong nudged his sister. “Tell Maymyint about Gwen.” Mayuree gaped in horror. “No!” she blurted, tongue-tied and panicking. She couldn't do that. To continue her futile struggle would only endanger others. “What’s this?” Maymyint’s grey eyes scanned over the siblings. “You have a prophecy? Why haven’t you informed the Matriarch?” “I have…” Mayuree swallowed. “But it’s not important.” “Mayuree!” Marong chided her. “This is not the time for sentimentality! It's your life! You gave Gwen the Eland Core! You helped her with her lodging! You gave her opportunities at every turn! It’s time you received the help you paid for!” “Gwen's not a thing I bought!” Mayuree protested. “She’s saved me already! Don’t you see?! Maymyint’s here as punishment for my trespass! You know the rules, a Diviner should never Scry themselves! I interfered needlessly, and how it's all too complicated!” “This 'Gwen'.” Maymyint licked her lips. “Do you happen to mean Gwen Song? The one who proposed the Centurion program?” “That’s right,” Marong interjected. "She's fated to save Mayuree, which means she must have a way to deal with the Tyrant." Mayuree leapt at her brother, but the Smoke Mage’s arm-thick haze was enough to keep the powerless Diviner subdued. “I know this Gwen. She’s an eater of Dragons: a Void Sorceress. I’ve fought her once, and the stink of the Tyrant radiating from her body was enough to insinuate she made a habit of killing their kind. If it’s her, I don’t doubt Mayuree’s vision. That girl has the means to change Myăma’s fate.” “Marong!” Mayuree crashed against her brother, almost hysterical in her desperation. “Shut up! Shut up!” “This is for your OWN good!” Marong pushed his sister against the sofa forcefully. “Stop fighting me, you fool!” Beside her distressed mistress, Lei bit her lip with such vigour that her complexion took on the colour of the table cloth. If she could only get away for a moment, she could contact Mistress Song, and her Mistress would be saved from this indignity! Marong continued, deadset on the course he had set. “Gwen Song has two Familiars. One is a Kirin, thick with Draconic-Essence, the Goddess knows how many Draconic-beings she had consumed to metamorph it from its original form. Her other Familiar, a Death Worm of some kind, takes on the form of creatures it consumes. It’s a Void Beast - nothing like anything we have ever seen before. Its potential is unfathomable. Furthermore, from the reports we managed to skim from Fudan, the girl is proficient in Five schools of Magic, and her VMI rivals that of a seasoned Magus.” “Mmmmphm!” Mayuree struggled against the smoky tendril keeping her lips sealed. “Her Uncle is the Ash Bringer, the Hero of the Northern Front, currently dallying with the Huangshan Dragon-princess called Ayxin. Her grandmother is the director of a PLA Research Hospital. Her grandfather is a CCP Senior Secretary. I have also received reports that she is a family friend of the Scarlet Sorceress, Alesia De Botton and the Morning Star Gunther Shultz - that she could be related to the late Magister Kilroy of Oceania. She's the one who collected the Dragon Cores we bought!” “And that’s who Mayuree thinks will ‘save her’?” “Correct.” Marong nodded. “That was Mia's original vision.” Maymyint lowered her hands, then adjusted her shawl. “And how do you propose we move someone like that?” the sibling’s eldest sister demanded. “You’re inviting destruction for the House of M.” “We have to persist in the Mayuree’s prophesy,” Marong proposed. “The girl is going to be in the IIUC in a few months.” “Is that so?” “I believe the Matriarch can submit a Questing application to the governing body of the IIUC. Our coffers are overflowing right now.” “What a curious proposition, Marong. How confident are you that this will go well?” Mayuree kicked out at her brother. Marong caught his sister’s legs and held them down with his hands. “I want to give Mia a chance.” Marong held the girl’s feet immobile. “Gwen Song will come, and she will make a difference. I have absolute confidence.” “Very well.” Maymyint’s smile was positively rapacious. “I will confer your offer with Mother.” “Good. So - Mayuree stays here in the meanwhile?” Maymyint shook her head. Before Marong could object, she turned to Mayuree. “Are you going to tell 'Gwen' about all of this, Mayuree?” Before Marong could stop her, Mayuree nodded furiously. “Ngar lee…” Marong groaned. “You idiot!” Freeing her legs while her brother despaired, Mayuree’s feet finally connected with his face, snapping his head backwards. “Sar!” Marong covered his face. In the next instance, a torrent of blood poured from between his fingers. She had gotten him square on the nose. “I can’t tell if you’re putting on an act, or if you are that naive,” Maymyint remarked, looking at the siblings. “Either way, I will be taking Mayuree with me to the old country. Pending on Mother’s approval, I will contact you shortly. You can bring this ‘Gwen’, or you can not. It makes no difference to Mother. The tithing cannot wait. You have until Thadingyut, the Festival of the Naga to save your sister. Mia, be a good girl now, and come along.” Shocked by the violence she had committed on her brother, Mayuree froze in horror. Marong had always picked on her, though she never had she wounded him. “I’ll take you back in a stasis field if I have to.” Maymyint straightened her back, her body long and slender, her neck elegant and serpentine. “Your servant can pack for you.” “Mia…” Marong had just managed to stop the bleeding. “You’ll be safe…” “Don’t involve Gwen in this,” Mayuree begged her brother. “Sorry.” Marong half-closed his eyes, then exhaled deeply. “I don’t care about her. I only care about you.” “Then I’ll tell her everything!” Mayuree spat from between clenched teeth. “She won’t come!” Marong groaned audibly. Maymyint began to laugh. “One wonders how you hope to survive.” The sister’s mood improved considerably. “Enfeeble Mind!” A flash of Radiance emanating from Maymyint’s fingers blasted through Mayuree’s forehead, equipping her with an enchanted halo. Instantly, Mayuree’s eyes lost their lustre, their eldest's spell bypassing the House of M's Mind Shield charms. The raw emotion that had hovered all over Mayuree's face ceased at once. Her mouth open and closed, but no words issued forth; it was as though the girl had grown suddenly dull. Marong shuddered with barely suppressed anger. “Don’t look at me like that, little brother,” Maymyint jeered. “You want to save her or not?” Marong held his tongue. “To repay your good behaviour, I will make a case in front of Mother. Send me all your reports.” She turned to her servant. “Thum, help them pack. Lei, you’re coming with Thum. Mia is going need a lot more looking after. Once you have her things, have Marong arrange transportation to the ISTC. We leave this evening.” “Yes, Ma’am.” Lei remained impassive. “By your will.” Maymyint’s manservant bowed. The House of M's eldest paused. “Marong, don’t go against the will of our Matriarch. Who knows, the Tyrant might prefer men for its subsequent tithing.” Marong remained stoic and stationary. He couldn’t bear the sight of Mayuree taken away, but what he could stomach was what came next. Even if Mayuree loathed him for the rest of her life, a sister that hated him was better than one that was dead or driven to insanity. Lei closed the door behind her. She dug into her dress and produced the communication Device her Mistress had left her. The Message bracelet was for her use, manufactured by Magus Maymaruya for Lei so that Mayuree’s friend could call and ask what and when was dinner. Lei punched in the glyph clumsily. She had never used an outbound Message before. With any luck, Miss Song wasn't in training, because once Mistress Maymyint was out of Shanghai, it would be impossible to- ‘WHOMP!' A ball of air struck the side of Lei's head. “I am astounded.” Thum held onto Lei’s body as she slumped. “Miss Maymyint said that her sister would be a handful, but who’d have thought a mere NoM servant would have the gall to oppose the eldest?” “She better not be dead.” Marong’s voice came across dangerously. Maymyint’s servant gave the House of M’s No.3 a wry grin. “Miss Maymyint will ensure the both of them arrive safe and sound.” Thum pursed his paper-thin lips. “You should probably inform my kinswoman. I find it hilarious that she’s absent at a time like this. I had been expecting to test her growth.” “Kitty being here wouldn’t have made a difference.” Marong creased his brow. Had Kitty been present, things could have gotten infinitely more complicated. For example, how could Marong explain why Gouding B1's penthouse exploded? “Of course not.” Thum wrinkled his nose. “I’ll be taking the NoM now if you don’t mind.” Marong stepped aside. “I respect you, Sir Marong.” The Mage bowed. “Please live a healthy life, at least until the Matriarch asks for your ultimate service. Dimension Door!” With a burst of silvery Conjuration, Maymyint’s bodyguard departed. Marong took a moment to stifle his haggard breathing, then raised his Message Device beside his face. "Maymaruya, is Kitty with you?" “She is, Young Master Marong. What’s wrong?” “Come to the penthouse at B1 as soon as you can." Marong materialised a lit-cigarette. " I have something that we need to discuss.”

"Try adding a spin," Gwen instructed her companion. Lulan grimaced with concentration, then let loose her projectile. "Thrust!" A slab of iron 'wooshed' through the air, spinning and swirling until it made a terrific 'CLANG!' against the Force Barrier. "No, not like that- here." Gwen closed her eyes and concentrated, then materialised the thing she had in mind. "Minor Image!" A jagged pie-chart materialised, mimicking a saw-blade. "That's a whole other sort of magic." Richard tossed in his two-cents from the sideline. "I can do it with Lea's help, but I don't think it's possible for a Sword Mage. Lulu, watch Lea." The petite form of Richard's Undine lifted a hand into the air, then made a sphere. Gradually, the orb began to spin until it flattened into a disk-shaped object. "That's it!" Gwen clapped. "That's what I wanted." "It's not a sword." Lulan studied the spinning 'disk' with evident frustration. "I can only do Swords." "It's a sword spinning REALLY FAST." Gwen looked toward Richard for advice. "Clanner-magic's not that rigid, is it?" "I think its best if we teach her with Western Spellcraft," Richard observed. "Let's try this again," Gwen informed her companions. "Shield!" A double-glazed semi-sphere Shield materialised. "Give me your best attack! Add a SPIN!" "Slash!" Lulan's face grew flush with effort as an enormous blade, almost the height of her whole body, descended onto Gwen's Shield after making several rotations. 'CRACK!' The entire frontal quarter of Gwen's Shield turned white as the mana compressed. In the next moment, with great expedition, her barrier returned to its usual transparency. "It's too hard!" Lulan growled. "Nah, you are getting stronger," Richard assured his party member. "Gwen just has a little too much mana to spare, don't worry." "Lulu, give me an 'Impale'." Gwen took a deep breath and readied a receiving stance. She manipulated her Minor Illusion to show a cone rotating on its centre-line. "Try adding a spin like so! Like a drill!" Lulan wounded up a straight; her face grew red with concentration. "IMPALE!" A slab of gleaming iron materialised, then accelerated forward suddenly, it corkscrewed a few times, then drifted slightly off-course. 'THUNK!' The better half of Gwen's Shield turned opaque as she slid back about a meter. Had she not been ready for the immense impact, she would have been knocked over. Earlier, when they sparred, Lulan had kicked her through the air like a billiard ball, sending her bouncing all over the training hall. "I think the spear-point is Lulu's best attack, to be honest," Richard remarked. If anything, he could parry the sweeps and slashes, but there was little his water could do to against a head-on collision. Gwen meanwhile, struggled to recall what little physics she had learned. For Void magic, an element that did not exist in her world, she had no idea how to apply her scant recollection of Senior Physics. For Lightning, however, she had some idea of how her self-generated electricity could empower future technological phenomena, though that would have to wait for a time when she could avoid being burned at the stakes for witchcraft. As for Lulan's giant roving slabs of iron girders, she was sure that there had to be a better way to utilise the girl's ability to summon construction material. For a while now, they'd been thinking of a way to improve Lulan's Sword-spells. Lulan's basic skills had been honed to a razor edge, but, lacking support from Huashan, she wasn't getting any new tricks, as the saying goes. If so, Gwen wanted her companion to develop something awe-inspiring, something that would blow the examiners, and ideally their competitors, away. Considering the brutal-physics of Lulan's attacks, Gwen had racked her brain for something that could drastically improve the girl's offensive potential. At first, she had imagined Lulan's 'Slash!' and 'Impale!' as tree-lopping, lacking finesse but high on destructive-momentum. Then thinking of arboreal professionals, she recalled hiring a pruner to cut down a half-dead gumtree in her backyard. That particular memory had then elicited the notion of a chain-saw. Naturally, Lulan couldn't summon a chainsaw. But what about spinning saw-blades? Just thinking about the scene gave her the shivers. What would a creature or a Mage think when a free-floating angle-grinder spinning at 2400 RPMs descended from above? The chances of Lulan learning higher-tier magic like the vibrating blade the Elder had used was nil. If so, why not set Lulu on a new path of Spellcraft, one that combined Gwen's knowledge of physics and Lulu's penchant for armed metallurgy? Take the saw for example - Gwen was sure her Shield, or any barrier for that matter, would be decimated by a spinning, 24-tooth saw. Failing that, how about a rotating 'shell' of metal 'fired' from the Elemental Plane of Earth? Didn't Wikipedia say that the old smooth-bore rifles could only manage 40 odd meters, while the simple addition of a rifling groove made the same weapon shoot over 400 meters with unerring accuracy? If so, Gwen hypothesised - could Lulan become a skirt-wearing 88mm tank gun? What if people mistook her as a Melee Mage - only to cop a 15-kilogram solid-slug projectile to the face? She had learned enough from Spellshaping to know that such a thing was entirely possible - after all, basic Earthen Evocations like Catapult and Stone Lance followed the same principles, only their designers lacked the aerodynamic knowledge necessary for ballistics. "Are we done?" Richard mopped the sweat from his body with a flick of his wrist. "Got fifteen minutes till the party." "Yeppers." Gwen moved to change out of her exercise clothes. No one wanted to attend a tea party smelling like sweat. "Come on, Lulu, you change too." “Gānbēi!” “Gānbēi!” “Cheers!” “Gānbēi!” “Cheers!” "Thanks, everyone!" Teacups, wine glasses and beer bottles clinked. Since summer in Shanghai was intolerable, it was only between March to May that alfresco cafe sprouted like spring flowers across Gouding and University Road. Taking advantage of the temperate weather, Gwen had organised a final get-together at a floral Eden called 'Birds-sing and Flowers-fragrant' to catch up before the IIUC selection. On the family front, Richard and Petra, Mina and Tao chatted across the long table beside Gwen’s usual companions, Lulan and Kusu, who occupied the middle. To her right, her workmates Dai and Ken accompanied the timid figures of Lily, Pu and Jon, who huddled on the far side, too tongue-tied to speak. “I wonder where Mayuree’s gone,” Gwen declared to Petra and Lulan. “Kitty too, strange that they’re not here. No one's answering either.” Richard shrugged. Petra affirmed that she hadn't seen Mayuree for at least a few days. “Sorry, I am late!” Gwen looked up, surprised to find that it was Marong who had come in the Diviner's place. “Marong! A pleasure.” She extended a hand. “Here, take a seat! Where’s Mia?” “She’s gone back to the home country for a while,” Marong explained. “Urgent family business. She’s asked me to come and see you in person to offer an apology.” “No worries.” Gwen gave the man her best smile. “Please, don't stand on ceremony, we're all old friends here.” Betraying her projected ease, Gwen felt strangely haunted by Mia's uninformed absence. It was queer that she didn’t leave her a Message. For so long, almost a year, Mia had been a constant companion by her side whether Gwen willed or no, and now her company, and Lei's meals, suddenly ceased. "I think that's everyone." Gwen gestured for the NoM waiter. "Six Afternoon Delux sets." "At once, Mistress." Turning back to the table, Gwen re-introduced her cadre of friends, family and acquaintances to one another, thanking them for coming to her luncheon on such short notice. The whole ordeal had been spontaneous, she explained: she had fancied a proper afternoon tea after tasting Walken’s scones, then serendipitously, a group luncheon resulted. “Stop, you're making me self-conscious.” Dai and Ken laughed when Gwen told everyone that they were the eldest of the bunch. Ken especially appeared awkwardly out of place with his suit and tie. “We’re old men compared to you folks, but we're young at heart.” The table resounded with mirth. The truth was that Lulan was the youngest of them all: she had turned seventeen in November, followed by Gwen, who would finally hit the big one-eight in May. Richard was already twenty and would finish his accelerated three-year degree at the ripe old age of twenty-two, the same as Kusu, who had joined Fudan a little later. Dai had his birthday in late February after a private party which Gwen had declined to attend, while the oldest was Ken, who confessed to being twenty-six. “There’s another wunderkind here?” Ken indicated Lulan, sceptical that he could be ten years the girl’s senior. “I see why you booked a tea house.” “Last time, Gwen took Lulu to a bar…” Kusu confronted Gwen accusingly. “Lulu came home raving like a lunatic, soaking from head to toe in sick.” “Hahaha…” “Haha…” "A cute thing like you, Miss Li? That had to be a sight!" “Ow!” Lulan pinched her brother. “So, any plans for your eighteenth?” Dai took the opportunity to put forward a plan he’d been fermenting for some time. “Don’t tell me you’ve got nothing planned.” “Well, depending on the Selection…” “Nonsense!” Dai interjected. “Why would you of all people have any problems with the April round? What are they going to do? Hire the other dual-element Void sorceress Fudan has lying around?” “I shouldn’t underestimate-” If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. “Nor should you overestimate their selection criterion,” the boisterous young man assured his teenage employer. “Father is vouching for you. Dean Lou is vouching for you. Your family, I assume, is vouching for you. I don’t even think you need to attend the interview, to be honest. There's going to be blood on the Dean's carpet if they reject you.” Listening to Dai's audacious claim, Lily, Pu and Jon immediately re-calculated what they thought they knew about their long-time classmate: anyone else being so obnoxious would be vexatious - but this was the Princeling of the Fung Clan! “I am more concerned about Lu,” Dai snorted. “You remember Lu? He's Wanli's owner. He aspired to join as well, but you’ve filled his niche and then some.” “I am sorry to hear that,” Gwen offered her condolences. She then turned to Marong. “What about Kitty? Is she going to be a part of the trials?” “I dare say she will,” Marong assured Kitty’s least favourite neighbour. “She’s in seclusion right now to wrap up her final training.” “She is?” Gwen cocked her head. “I saw her just last week!” “With Mia absent, she's gone with the wind.” Marong shot her a waning smile. “You know how she is.” Which was true, Gwen had to admit. Kitty had no love for herself nor Marong. With Mayuree gone, nothing was keeping her at Gouding B1. With a week to go, going into seclusion for that final push may be just the thing. Soon, servers arrived with tiers of delightful petit-fours, scones and jam, fresh fruits from the Wildlands, and daintily cut sandwiches in alternating flavours of cucumber and rabbit-terrine. After working her way through a double serving of pastries, Gwen turned her attention to her cousins. “Tao, did you ever get your new single off the ground? Was my editing any help?” “Aww yeah.” Tao gave her a cool nod of acknowledgement, making a 'W' with one hand. “Yo lyrical flow got my juices flowing, Gee. Dem sick beats kicking up ill rhymes, yo lambs be helpful, Gwennabitch.” “Iambic meter,” Gwen corrected her cousin, wondering what the hell her Ioun Stone was doing to translate Tao so well. Tao was under the impression that her analogy had been about lambs bleating in two-beat syllables. “Shaaa!” A cry emanated from under the table. “Woa! Cali-bitch, you back fo mo?” “Peaches, language…” Mina groaned. Why did Tao persist in making every gathering a place for social suicide? “Shaaa!” Her family was used to Tao's befouled linguistic antics, but Gwen's other friends couldn't help but stare. 'Cali-bitch?' 'Gwennabitch?' what were these words coming out of the man's mouth? “EEEE!” “I got Ariel covered!” Lily declared from her end of the table. Gwen's Conjuration crew of Fudan's 'normies' had taken up with Ariel to absolve the need for awkward conversation with the strange and haughty folks sitting opposite. “Sorry Lil, thanks for looking after Ariel.” Gwen flashed an appreciative grin. With her hands, she drew the audience' attention. “Lulu, you recall Lil. Right? You guys met last time we had dinner, about a month ago.” “Greetings.” Lulan nodded, though it was clear her memory was fuzzy. "I do remember you." “Hello,” Lily inclined her head. She vaguely recalled Lulan. "I think we met." “…” “…” The two girls stared at one another. “My father was recently promoted to the Chief Superintendent of Jiading,” Lily stated, switching to a universal ice-break the Guan-er-dai used to pass the time - speaking to each other by talking about their families. "How're things at Huashan?" “My Shifu is dead, and I am excommunicated. Were it not for Gwen, I would be homeless,” Lulan explained carefully. "... right. How about you, Tao?” Lily shifted her conversation to the other side, hoping their parents were alive, hale and well-connected. “Mah old man? He’s Bao Wang, the biggest dawg in town. My fam owns Wang Group Enterprises, ho.” “Peaches!” Mina scolded her brother. “What did father say about bragging? Sorry, Lily, Peaches is a fruit.” “This bitch was the one who asked! Ow! Why are you slapping me, fool?” “…” Lily sipped her tea. Was anyone here a 'normal' person? She was beginning to be very thankful of Pu's advice that they should NOT look Gwen up for Questing and adventuring. “So, what courses are you guys doing?” Kusu suddenly cut in. The whole ordeal was much too painful to watch. “Conjuration.” “Evocation.” “Wow, that’s great; I am doing a mix of first and second-year courses right now..” “Cool, who’s your Lecturer?” "Birch, Lee, Griggs, and Wu, you?" “Which university are you attending Mina?” “I am studying at a vocational Hospital.” “Wow, you’re from the Wang family, and you’re still working?” “Dad says we all need a trade, so…” “That’s an admirable attitude!” Good work, Kusu. Gwen applauded Lulan’s brother. The young man was level-headed and for a Clanner, possessed an admirable temperament. Once they were out of university, she was sure that there would be a place for Kusu in her organisation. Lulan might be the superior Mage by far, but Kusu was talented in other ways Lulan couldn’t begin to match. In her eyes, the man had the making of a Majordomo. With the further side of the table finally talking, Gwen returned to Dai. “You never gave me an answer,” Dai implored. “Well?” “Are you going to organise one for me?” Gwen could read Dai’s face like a book. “Well, you’re my boss, and my...” Dai coughed, suddenly sensing a chill. The rest of the table perked up. Mina's expression darkened. Giving her cousin the A-okay, Gwen turned to Dai with a bone-tingling smirk. “Don’t worry, sweet prince." Her luscious lips kissed the air. “We’ll be friends and colleagues, always.” The others collectively winced. Having delivered the Friend-Zone kiss of death, Gwen relented. “A party sounds like a good idea.” She patted Dai on the shoulder before turning to Marong. “Is Mayuree going to be back in May? That's May 25th.” “I sure hope so, if nothing goes awry.” The Diviner’s brother chuckled along with the rest. “You’re welcome to use one of our establishments if you like.” “Or one of our hotels!” Tao counter-offered. “Father will clear the whole grand ballroom of Park Hyatt on the Bund if it’s for you.” “No problems there,” Mina confirmed. “I’ll speak to dad. How big are you thinking? Two hundred guests?” “I was thinking of something a little less public…” Gwen baulked. Two hundred? Was she going to invite her whole university cohort? “Just family and friends, you know?” “Not possible!” Dai bolted upright, brimming with anticipation. “It’s your eighteenth! You’re one of the instrumental members of the Nantong Tonglv Committee! A teenage prodigy and soon to be selected for the IIUC! You’ve never come out, right? No one in our high-society circles has seen you in the flesh! That has to change!” “Dai’s right,” Richard remarked expertly. “A society-gathering is a great opportunity to gain some ‘Guan-xi’. Perhaps you can do a demonstration to spread the news of your prowess to our future competitors. They have their IIUC selection right about now as well. Remember what Walken said.” Ergh - Gwen's head swelled to twice its usual size. She caught Petra looking and realised her cousin was right yet again. Why did she always make herself suffer? "Don't hurt yourself." Magister Lee loomed over Gwen and her Death Worm. "Though I am happy you are making progress, that was a close call." Week 9's workshop took place in the lower campus, in a place unceremoniously called 'Spellcraft laboratory No. 5', an open-plan arrangement spanning the space of several classrooms, divided via single-pane Force Barriers. Due to its limited capacity to house individual students, the Spellshaping cohort had split into morning, afternoon and evening sessions, with twenty-odd students attending each of Michio Lee's lessons. Just now, Gwen's Void-spell misfired, sending a splutter of Void-matter into the range. "I am still trying to stabilise the spell." Gwen pointed to a white-board filled with arcane Glyphs and incantations. "Though Void is unstable by nature." The spell she was trying to create was an original Invocation of her own making. Though Walken had given her innumerable advice, her 1001 puzzle assortment of Major and Minor Incantations was proving to be a significant cerebral challenge. "Start from the beginning." Magister Lee conjured a saddle-chair. With his broad chest and well-muscled arms, the man cut a dashing figure anywhere, even on a faux-saddle. "Explain your rationale." Gwen cleared her throat. "As you would know, Sir, the quality of Void as an offensive element lies in its ability to 'disappear' materials. Motes expend themselves to 'absorb' anything it touches. In work carried out with Magister Wen, we rationalised this as the Void 'consuming' matter by diminishing itself to send its target into the Quasi-Elemental Plane of the Void itself." "My current staple is Void Bolt, or black-lightning; a spell which conjures a mass of Void Matter to strike my enemies. More accurately, it should be called an unguided Void-missile which emerges from translocation point A, projected toward a predetermined direction. Compared to Lightning Bolt, it has significant travel time and can be dodged." "Considering the limitation of expending Vitality, I wanted to create a spell that possessed the lethality of the Bolt but at a far lower cost - one that maximised the characteristics of Void." "Very good - go on." "In essence, I wanted to materialise a projectile form that is energy-efficient while generating maximum tactility." "Proceed carefully this time." "I can show you the tier 2 variation, Sir. Right now, I can't manage Homing or propulsion." "That's fine." Gwen focused her mind. "Chakrum!" The air hummed. Had Lee been standing at eye-level, he would have missed the paper-thin ring that materialised half-a-meter in front of them. From an elevated angle, however, it was as though an 'O' shaped hole had formed in time-space, with the light at the ring's centre becoming distorted and warped. "A combination of Evocation and Conjuration!" Lee observed. "Marvellous." "It's the most efficient form-factor, Sir," Gwen explained. "The ring is spinning too, though you can't see it. That was as far as I managed. Next is propulsion, and ideally a homing function." "Does it cut well?" Gwen scrunched up a piece of paper and threw it at the ring. Soundlessly, the paper-ball fell into two sections. The smaller portion, trapped in the ring's midst was then reduced to powdery snow. "Would you consider 'Chakrum!' anti-personnel or anti-creature?" "Creature, Sir. 'Charkrum' is one-tenth the expenditure of a Void Bolt, at least so far. Once we factor in distance and other capabilities, I anticipate one-quarter." "Excellent, well done!" Lee slapped her shoulder. "My recommendation would be a channel function to decrease or increase the diameter of the ring. Likewise, you could test if adding or decreasing revolutions impact efficacy of the spell. In the future, I would venture to say that what you may consider an alteration to Blade Barrier that could make the spell a Void Element staple! Likewise, imagine if you can create an offensive Shield that's a perimeter disk of Void-Matter, and co-currently activate it with a neutral Mana Shield, it would make a most excellent melee counter! A disk with a hollow core! Who'd have thought?" Gwen wasn't about to tell the Magister that she came up with the idea after working with Lulan and thinking of Xena, Warrior Princess. "After our examination in week 13, go to Fudan T2 at once and have your spell registered," Lee reminded her. "You haven't disappointed me, Gwen. High five?" Observed by a dozen others, Gwen coyly gave her handsome Instructor a high and a low. Her draconic-strength however, ensured that both were thunderclaps, drawing ire from the girls as only she could. "Wow, she certainly did leave in a hurry." Gwen glanced over the penthouse apartment where Mayuree's things remained here and there. "She'll be back soon enough," Marong smoked on the lounge. Without his sister, he could puff as he pleased. "Too bad she took Lei with her." "I miss Lei already." Gwen sighed. "So, you're living here alone?" "I'll be gone next week." Marong gave her a strange smile. "You've been orphaned, Miss Song." Gwen laughed until she caught the man's mirthless mien. "Gwen." Marong exhaled, tipping his fag. "Can I ask you a serious question?" "Sure, shoot." "How do you feel about Mia?" Much to her dismay, Marong's expression grew strange and severe enough for Gwen to take a seat. "Not... romantically, if that's what you mean," Gwen replied apprehensively. "I mean, girl-friends do slumber parties, and Mia does have a super-king bed, so..." "How close are you guys, as... what's the word? Mates?" Gwen smiled at the sound of Marong's attempted slang. "Mia's a sister, I suppose. She's small and petite and cute and innocent, kind of reminds of another little sister I have. God, I miss her. Hell, I miss Mia already, and it's only been a week." "A sister? Are you serious?" "Do I look serious?" Gwen raised a brow. "I suppose you do." Marong paused. "Thanks." "Why, you feeling a little protective?" Gwen laughed. "I thought you loved bullying her. You're the big bad brother, right?" "Hardly - did you know we're not direct-siblings?" Gwen blinked. What did that mean? "In the olden days, in the old country, before even the Great War in Europe, there was a King by the name of Thibaw Min, son of Mindon and the Priestess Mibaya, of the Royal Kingdom of Myăma. The King was a cruel and wicked man. Fearing succession from his young siblings, he slaughtered all of his half-brothers during his coronation, keeping alive only his half-sisters, whom he would wed to loyal ministers, or give as gifts to the aristocracy." Marong's captive audience blinked, wondering why the Smoke Mage was waxing history midway through a conversation about Mayuree. "The Britannic Mageocracy had little patience for indulging a small South East Asian nation's civil war, however, and it wasn't long before Thibaw Min capitulated, becoming a Protectorate of the Mageoracy and renamed Burma." "Thibaw knew then that he had made a terrible mistake killing the most talented of his family members, whose talents were now lost to him. After the British introduced the Imperial Magical System, he expended a thousand year's collated wealth on hundreds of concubines, fathering countless children with talented abilities so that when the time came for the Kingdom to rise again, they would not be bereft of talent." "So you and Mayuree are half-siblings?" Gwen inquired. "Thibaw Min has been dead for half a century." Marong chuckled. "Mia and I are cousins, but our blood is a little more intimate." "Like... Clanners?" "Indeed." Marong nodded. "It's a complicated matter, but to summarise, we descend from a pair of half-sister Priestesses from the King's harem, who themselves were related to the old King." "A harem!" "Is that so surprising?" "I suppose not..." Gwen forced her brows to lower. A person needs to be culturally sensitive. "So, is Mia a princess?" "Without name, title, or country?" Marong scoffed. "Not to mention we are half-bloods, carrying maybe a quarter of Min's stock at best. No, Mia and I are not royalty, though there are those of us who are directly descended. We are... spares." "Oh, er... Sorry." Gwen lowered her eyes, wondering if she had stepped on one of Marong's funny bones. Heir and spares, eh? That seemed to be the way any royalty functioned, look at Will and Harry. "Look, I don't care about that. Mia's an important friend and a sister; that's all that matters." Marong did not dignify her with a response. It was as though all the words in the world had dried up. After an awkward 'goodnight', Gwen left for her apartment. Marong reached into his suit-pocket and extracted the recording crystal of a Vid-cast recorder. He dialled a Glyph into his Message Device. "Maymaruya." "Master Marong?" "I have a testimonial I'd like to send to the Matriarch. Can you arrange it for delivery to Yangon?" "At once, Young Master." Marong closed his eyes and tried to picture the girl who had just left. She was so young, so fresh, and so inundated with the Tyrant's scent. Had he made the right choice or had he doomed himself and Mayuree? But that was a moot point now. Without his sister, his life would be Mu - nothing. And for Mayuree, something infinitely worse.

It took only six more days for the fated '/' Gwen had marked off on her calendar to become an 'X'. As it was a Wednesday, she cleared her schedule of both classes and work, practised a few mock-interviews with Walken, filled herself up to her throat with Magus Kumiko’s summons, then joined the others for her afternoon appointment. According to her Instructor's insider-information, unless she cock-up by boasting about the dubious nature of the Void, its hunger, and her many mental malignancies, her selection was assured. Additionally, a case for Lulan and Richard's inclusion should be put forward in the manner of a 'package deal'. If one had leverage, Walken remarked, then leverage away. Nonetheless, the waiting room and the attention of two dozen others made Gwen ever more conscious of the expectations laid at her feet. “I feel sick,” Gwen expressed a distinct desire to retire to the bathroom to practice Rodin's Thinker. Petra, Richard, Lulan and Kusu gaped at their ventilating sorceress. “It's the anticipation.” She tried to put her eccentricity into words. “I can't help thinking that something's going to go wrong." “Once bitten, twice shy?" Richard pointed out. "You did fail some pretty important tests, I recall." “The first was when I was ten.” Gwen retrieved her alter-ego’s memories. “I failed the first aptitude test and got placed into a public high school when I turned twelve.” “You did?” Petra had never been privy to her cousin's true mediocrity. “Now that I think about it, she tanked her PMAE too,” Richard appended the other’s knowledge of their almighty sorceress. “Did you manage to pass your AMAE?” “I skipped it, remember?” Gwen grinned guiltily. “If I had gotten back to Australia, we would have continued onto Year 12 and then had our Advanced Magical Aptitude Exams in July.” Her friends, particularly Lulan and Kusu, stared. “Y-you’re not even a high-school graduate?” a gobsmacked Kusu stuttered. “You don't have a Higher-Education Magical Aptitude Certificate?” “Ah-ha-ha…” Gwen cringed. “Wow, that's impressive." “Incredible!” Lulan gazed upon Gwen with awe. "I had Questing Credits, but you received an LCS scholarship without higher-education qualifications?" The combined visage of the Flowers of Fudan was drawing attention from all over, though as usual, the ever-resourceful Mineral Enchanter had earlier set up a Privacy Ward. "You enrolled younger than I did though," Gwen praised the youthful Lulan. "I mean-" The corner of her eye caught a pale and lithe silhouette. “KITTY!” There was no mistaking it. Gwen could spot the pale-skinned pixie a mile away. “I’ll bring her over.” She left the group before the others could react. As she approached, Kitty seemed to drift further away. When she finally got to the other end of the hall, watched by the two dozen or so contestants scheduled for the first round of interviews, the girl was gone. “That’s strange,” Gwen moped when she returned to her friends. “I think she’s avoiding me.” “Well, you can be exceedingly bothersome,” Richard quipped. “Caliban sniffs and licks everything; you leak Dragon-fear without warning, Ariel zooms around the apartment, knocking down anything not bolted down, leaving a fine dusting of fur over every conceivable surface, including my cereal.” “Hmmph! Sif!” Gwen pouted. "My babies are perfect!" The others joined the jeering. “At least you're not nervous anymore.” Richard cracked his knuckles. "Nor am I, to be honest. Walken's a good bloke to have around." “I am scared,” Lulan confessed. Though Walken gave her a pep talk, she had little in the way of a true speciality. “What if I don’t make it, Gwen?” “Oh, Lulu, you’ll be fine!” Gwen hugged the girl close to her chest, feeling her thudding heart jackhammer against Gwen’s own. “You did well against me in our sparring sessions. You’re kick-ass, okay?! Just wait till we find a Spirit for you and finish our Signature Spells. You'll be an unstoppable Panzerschreck!” "Armour... scare?" Richard laughed at her Gwenism. "What?" Between herself, Richard and Lulu, the three of them were making decent headway. Their current problem was the lack of sufficiently powerful propulsion. Lulan’s ‘sword draws’ materialised her blades as she spell-flurried, using the kinetic energy of her heavy-blades to crush or slice her targets. With an alteration to the original spell, it should be possible to exponentially increase the expulsion rate of Elemental Iron by reducing the weight and mass of her Conjure Blades through compression. Assuming it was possible to attain a projectile velocity of a large-bore gun, which Gwen recalled to be almost a thousand meters-per-second, they could then work on generating torque to stabilise Lulu’s shot. Unfortunately, as a half-assed physicist, Gwen could only half-guess as to the mysteries of conserving angular momentum, leaving facts to trial and error. Had she been forewarned of her interstellar adventure, she would have taken the subject for her HSC. “Oi, I think one of us is up." Richard was the first to notice the Proctors standing at the door. “GWEN SONG - S.I.D: 12598 S0203, are you present?” an announcer called out, his voice permeating the room. “PRESENT!” a shrill voice answered. Gwen took a deep breath. "Wish me luck!" "You won't need it," Richard scoffed. "Don't forget to give us a plug!" “Gwen Song, S.I.D: 12598 S0203,” Gwen announced to the tribunal overlooking her selection. The converted training hall had a lesser Cognisance in effect, materialising a stream of Quasi-Elemental Lightning as her boot-heels echoed through the enormous chamber. Observing her were four Adjudicators: one she knew, one she had seen prior, and two she did not. Chief among the gathered was the Dean, Jiang Luo, sitting beside the Chief Registrar, a lady-Magister called Clarine Lee. To her left was a Caucasian man she had never seen before. To her right, was another, a grey-haired Asian man with an austere appearance. These two had the bearing of Tower officials: presumably, one was from Pudong, and the other was a CCP Tower Mage. “Miss Song, we welcome you to the 2004 IIUC selection interview. In the next few minutes, we will ask you for a demonstration, as well as answer a few questions. Should you wish to withdraw, you may do so at any time.” The voice that spoke was shrill and sharp, belonging to the Registrar. “Dean Luo and I will adjudicate, while Magister Eckermann and Wu will affirm or reject our decision. A majority of three out of four is needed to pass. Should our votes tie, you will be included as a reserve member.” “Yes, Ma’am.” Gwen straightened the hem of her cotton blouse. All in all, the scenario reminded her of the time she had to apply for a Citibank 'Young Women in Banking' Cadetship grant. For this momentous occasion, she had taken great care to dress her team. Richard, thanks to his tall and athletic bearing, made for a natural model. With a healthy dash of gel to style his hair, an expensive jacket, boot-cut chinos and a pastel shirt, the young man was effortlessly cool. Lulu was a little more challenging, for the girl had a reputation and Gwen wanted the interviewers to see her as someone adorably in 'control' of her notable capacity for ultraviolence. After dragging the wide-eyed girl through half a dozen shops in K-11, she dressed the petite athlete in semi-formal belted shorts, knee-socks, booties, and a linen jacket in sunburst yellow. Kusu was, of course, confounded by Lulan’s new look, which to Gwen signalled a sign of success. As for herself, she had a very particular appearance in mind. Considering the infamy of her worm-handling moniker and her reputation for sassing authority when confronted by her betters, her preference was for something ambivalently wedged between youthful exuberance and earnest industry. Her usually straight-brushed hair was thus left loose and comfortable, juxtaposing an upper body hidden demurely behind a neutral-toned long-sleeved blouse. For her lower body, she favoured full mobility with a pair of cargo shorts that showed off the entire length of her white legs, ending with a set of pumped steel-toes. The style was minimalist, military, and urban-chic, clean in the extreme, but simultaneously aesthetic and pleasing. Gwen's only regret was that Petra wasn’t competing. If so, she could guarantee her cousin's selection on the Vid-cast ratings alone. “Miss Song, why do you wish to participate in the IIUC?” Walken had coached her on this topic already, and so Gwen channelled a mote of her Essence to fluff-up her confidence before attending to her viva voce. “Lord Magisters - Dean, thank you for giving me the opportunity to be here. For your consideration, I would like to offer an official and a private rationale for my inclusion in Fudan’s IICU team. In the capacity of myself as a student of this austere tertiary institution, I would like to put myself forward for Fudan because the university has helped me in my time of need. When I arrived as a refugee from Sydney, terrified, helpless and confused, it was Fudan who offered me - a mere girl from the Frontier - an opportunity to study with the best Shanghai had to offer. For this reason, I wish to repay the Dean for his generosity and to show the world that Fudan is a first-class institution.” If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The observers took notes. The Dean beamed. "Why do I want to join the IIUC? I fear my rationale is a selfish one. I desire a stage, one of of great influence. I am a Void Mage, and we all know that Void Mages are unstable, self-destructive, deranged and dangerous. This is simply not true. For me, the Quasi-element of Void is a tool - one via which I will exact a price on the Demi-humans who dare to invade our domain and slaughter our people! I will use the IIUC to prove to the world that Void Mages are not to be feared, but celebrated! That Mages like me will be the catalyst of a lasting peace! That one day, atop a Tower of my own making, Humanities' enemies will quake in its shadow and loathe the prospect of war!” ‘CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!’ ‘Clap... Clap. Clap...’ Confused by the other's inaction, Gwen searched for the second source of ecstatic applause, finding Ellen clapping mirthlessly beside her boisterous Master. The other three Adjudicators marked the Dean with unfriendly warnings before turning back to Gwen. “Miss Song. What is your desired position?” “Offensive Caster or Battlefield Controller, Lord Magister.” "Very well - begin your presentation." Gwen stepped back and took a deep breath. After careful deliberation with Walken, they had decided on one hell of a show and tell. For weeks she had been preparing a spell that would not only impress, but demonstrate her absolute control over the Void. After raising both hands, she paused for drama. “You may feel a slight discomfort.” “Proceed.” Gwen drew a finger through the air. A Glyph materialised, darker than black, gnawing into the fabric of space and time. Entwined with Almudj’s Essence, Void-matter flooded through her mana conduits, feeding into the modified Conjuration staple made timeless by Magi Morden. With herself as the epicentre, a wave of Dragon-fear and vertigo radiated from Gwen’s body. Having anticipated her spell, the Dean was already channelling mana through his Astral Soul to offset the side-effects of Gwen’s creature-conjuration, snickering as his peers paled in unison. As for the Dean's pet subject, she was now wreathed in midnight, visible only thanks to her viridescent irises casting a pale emerald glow across the Draconic-deerhounds slithering into being from a rift in space. All were familiar with Morden’s Hounds. Most of them had seen the unique effects of Draconic-magic as well and arguably, at least two of them had seen Void Mages up close, but none had ever borne witness to the terrific visage that was the amalgamation of all three. Dean Luo was the first to shake himself from the horrid sight of Void-tinged deerhounds. Activating a suite of diagnostic magic, he took an intimate gander at the alien creatures now paddling across the training hall’s floor. Visually, the creatures were dogs - large ones at that, measuring a good two meters from head to toe, though the proportion of the animals appeared to possess more head than any other anatomy. That was the disconcerting thing: Void-clad in obsidian plates, about half of the hound consisted of a large, phallic-shaped head that ended with no face, but what presumably was the beginning and end of a meter long jaw. From between the slit, a viscous grey-goo oozed as the Void-beasts prowled, all seven of them. “Caliban!” The beasts' alpha slinked into being. “Shaaaa!” The jet-black Death-worm screeched. As one, the hounds stood to attention. The Void Sorceress turned to face the judges, her complexion heart-breakingly pale, as fragile as white-jade porcelain. “They obey every command,” Gwen explained, not a hint of exertion to her voice. “The hounds have also inherited the Elemental traits of Void-beings. In tests conducted with Magus Kumiko’s summoned creatures, they can recover from physical damage by consuming bio-mass. Furthermore, unless fully Banished or dispelled by Lightning, the creatures persist until their vitality is exhausted.” “They also draw their constitution from your health; do they not?” Magister Eckermann, the grey-haired Tower Mage from Pudong, enquired with a conservative air. “Yessir,” Gwen affirmed the Magister’s suspicions, though she did not append the Magister's enquiry with additional details. “They are capable of pack-tactics?” the CCP Magister queried. “Indeed.” She glanced at her dogs. Immediately, her pack separated, each taking on a corner as if guarding the general perimeter. “What of their prowess?” Registrar Lee continued the line of questioning. “Exceedingly lethal,” Gwen stated without exaggeration. “They are yet to be battle tested in the field, though thanks to Magister Walken and Magus Kumiko’s generosity, the pack can dismantle a Tier 7 Bristle-back Hog without losses. I would say that against creatures below the giant-category, my deerhounds’ prowess remains… unmatched.” “Very impressive,” Dean Luo spoke loud enough for the other’s to hear. “She has my vote.” The others shuffled in their seats. Registrar Lee glowered at the Dean. “We're not supposed to inform you in person, Miss Song. But since the Dean is so adamant and your performance so extraordinary; I shall concur.” Registrar Lee raised her hand. “I have no objection.” “Neither have I.” “Right.” Dean Luo beamed at his protege. “Gwen, congratulations. Second round trials will begin in Semester two, near the ides of June. We will be testing your teamwork. Assuming everything goes well, you’ll be looking to represent our institution!” Gwen bowed deeply. "As to that very matter, Dean, Sirs and Madams, may I have a minute of your time?" "No-" "Go ahead, Gwen." The others remained silent. "Sirs, Madam, you may know already, but my cousin Richard Huang and my companion Lulan Li are also keen to prove their mettle in the IIUC. We're a team, and together, we are all at our best. My cousin Richard and I came first in the Hengsha Island Dungeon even before we came to Fudan. As for Lulan, she has been Adventuring with Richard and myself, and we have managed to clear the Nantong Water-Ghost's lair without incident, going so far as to rescue a scion of the Fung Clan. Together, our complementary skills become multiplicative, greatly increasing our operational efficacy. If I am to be my very best in acting for Fudan, I wish to have my left and right arms by my side." "..." "I understand," the Dean assured her. “Miss Song, you may leave now.” Registrar Lee insisted. "We will take your account into consideration." “Thank you, Lord Magisters, Dean - Thank you for your guidance." With that, she packed her creatures, then retreated to the exit. Once outside, a dozen pairs of eyes converged on the eye-catching girl with the impossibly pale legs. “Richard, cover me.” Gwen stalked across the floor, her boots striking staccato steps as she pushed past the crowd. Very quickly, her friends surrounded her. Gwen materialised a half-bottle of Maotai she had earlier purchased and chugged the rest in one go, exhaling a sweet scent of distilled sorghum as her vitality regenerated, returning a spot of colour to her cheeks. “Do you think imbibing alcohol is considered cheating?” Gwen packed the bottle away. “Would it count as a potion?” “Of course not.” Richard grinned wickedly. “If anyone else can afford it, or can slam it down as you do, they’re welcome to replicate our strategy.” “I think they might ban it once the cat’s out of the bag,” Kusu warned her. “If you can convert the vitality from treasure-grade consumables like Maotai, wouldn’t that imply an unlimited capacity for Void?” “First I’d have liver failure,” Gwen returned seriously. “My body's still stuck processing the booze. It’s not as though I am an alcohol-fuelled combustion engine.” Kusu cocked his head. “Nothing.” Gwen stifled a burp. “There it goes. Yeah, I don’t think Maotai is a long-term solution either. Maybe some of that Spiritual Ginseng…” “Ask your Grandfather?” Richard implored. “Naw, he’s saving for babulya and Percy,” Gwen replied sweetly. Though Guo could use a few extra years, he still wanted to reserve the best herbal ingredients for his wife and his grandson. To Gwen, that was an entirely respectable sentiment. “Ask Jun?” “And owe Ayxin? No thanks,” Gwen reflected sourly. She hadn’t seen the pair of them in forever. She wondered what they were doing - well, she could guess what they were doing. It was more so a question of Axyin popping out a litter of baby Ash Dragons. Rather than the proverbial Queen of Dragons, she could be 'Aunt' of Dragons. “So, how did the whole thing go?” Lulan asked anxiously. "What should I expect?" “Well.” Gwen cleared her head. “When you first walk in, you’re going to be hit by A LOT of diagnostic magic…” “So, what do you think?” Dean Luo sat in his office, attended by his cosplaying Familiar. The other three Magisters lounged comfortably in tub-chairs and sofas dotting the Dean’s Roaring Twenties' smoking room, recently renovated after a disastrous mishap involving a hysterical Ellen. “The Void Sorceress' a shoo-in, I’d imagine.” Hans Eckermann, the Proctor for the Pudong Tower, sipped his coffee. “Of course, if you dare deny her, Eckermann, I’ll fight you.” The Dean chuckled. “And her friends?” “The Water Mage is an interesting character,” Magister Wu remarked after swallowing a mouthful of scalding tea. Unlike western variations, the green-tea from Fur-peak was best taken at its hottest and most fragrant. Gingerly, Ellen flittered about, acting the attentive maid. Magister Wu Gusong of the Shanghai Tower, more commonly known as the CCP Tower, regarded Dean Luo’s Dutch wife. He was aware of the theory that humanising one’s Spirits allowed them to attain higher tiers of Affinity and hastened their spiritualisation, though he’d rarely seen anyone bother with something as nebulous as clothing their Familiars. The latter, in Wu’s opinion, was an indication that Luo was a confessed sexual deviant. “How so?” the Dean pursued the matter. “There’s no taking back a vote.” “It’s his aspiration that I find strange.” Wu cocked his head, turning away from Ellen’s distracting visage. “Not an ounce of self-promotion, but an assurance that his presence will ensure Gwen Song will emerge victorious from the competition? That’s a first. One would have thought he was a foster-child of her House, not an expatriated student from Prince’s Frontier Scholarship program.” “Did you read the report I attached?” Luo glanced at the others. “It's Richard Huang’s second-year proposal for the subjugation of the lower-Nantong delta’s remaining Demi-humans. He's been exterminating them with the Li girl, joined by a rag-tag team of local Mages.” From their blank expressions, the answer was no. “Ellen.” The Dean materialised a stack of reports. “Give these out.” The others took a minute to read through the reports. “Monstrous!” The Chief Registrar spat when she got to the recommendations segment. “I can see this working, but Mao…” “Interesting, hmm?” “I’d love to recruit him for the Grey Ghosts.” Magister Wu whistled. “I want to say he’s needlessly cruel, but you have to admit, it’ll work.” “Is this boy the kind of influence we want on the girl?” Magister Eckermann pointed out what they’d all been thinking. “Undoubtedly,” the Dean interjected. “You remember what Seoul U did to us last year? There’s a naivety in our young Mages, hand-reared by Clan and in a green-House, that must be offset by someone with a practical focus.” “But Gwen Song was raised in Oceania, was she not? Why isn't she like this?” “She's fair and of the gentler sex, perhaps?” the Dean alerted the others with a useless bit of information. “Stubborn and altruistic too. Not debilitating by any means, but it’s there. She won’t look kindly on the sort of length her cousin is willing to go. In my opinion, the two together make for a perfect balance between prim propaganda and pragmatic problem solver. She’ll give us good optics, I am sure. You've all seen her. The Vid-cast ratings will be phenomenal.” Wu snorted. “The last time we broadcasted the IIUC live…” “...Was a disaster.” Dean Luo shook his head. “Don’t worry; I’ve got a good feeling about this year. If anything, I'll take responsibility.” “Fine. What about the excommunicated Clanner?” “I voted yes to offer Gwen Song more autonomy,” the Dean explained. “On a team of five, she could have operation authority if it’s three to two. Gwen can occupy dual-roles of Control and Offence, while Li can be an Offensive-interceptor. The cousin can likewise occupy dual-roles as mobile Defence and Battlefield Controller.” “Agreed.” Eckermann made his opinion known. “Assuming this report is true. She's a fantastic soldier. What she lacks in talent, she makes up in enthusiasm. Did you see her Questing data? Two thousand and four hundred plus confirmed kills. She could be a career officer, at the very least a decorated NCO." “I’ll agree for the sake of the Water Mage, not for your protégé,” Wu declared, glancing sideways at the Dean. “I want to see him in action. If he’s as good as I think he is, I want him enrolled in the Ghosts." “You can try.” The Dean opened both hands. “I won’t stop you.” Magister Wu ignored the Dean's quip and returned to sipping his tea. “I guess my ‘nay’ vote doesn’t matter then,” Registrar Lee grumbled. “We’ll reconvene in June for the team selections.” “Very well.” The Dean applauded himself. “Ellen, see the guests out, then go give Gwen and her friends the good news.” “The announcement is one week from now, Sir,” Ellen, trained in processing simple paperwork and reading the calendar, informed her Master. “Ah~, what’s the harm?” “You have another thirty candidates to interview, Sir…” Registrar Lee frowned. “Please don’t play favourites. This is an important event for many of the students. Even a reserved position is a highly sought-after accolade.” The Dean grumbled. “Fine. Ellen, get me Walken.” He ignored the others. “Gentlemen, Elaine, we're done here.”

Gwen could hardly believe the first round of the Selection had come and gone like a sunshower. The announcement for the twenty-two candidates was posted by Saturday on the bulletin board just outside Guanghua Towers. Atop the list, perhaps at the Dean’s behest, was her name, below which Richard and Lulan’s names were buried. While perusing the list, she also located the others. Kitty Liang was among those chosen, as expected. Lu Fung, Dai’s cousin, was also among that number. Her senior, Tei Bai, was there as well, together with a few other well-known names from the Duelling Club. As for the rest, she couldn’t put faces to the too-similar syllables. Just the last name Li appeared no less than four times on the list. “Oh, thank the Chairman.” Lulan saluted in the general direction of the Crystal Tomb. “I see Senior Huang is up there as well, haha.” “Good work, Lulu.” Gwen hugged her companion from behind. Lacking Mayuree’s presence, she was running out of things to snuggle. For all of Ariel’s wonders, human contact was nourishment for the soul. When the Lulan in her arms failed to respond; she followed the girl's eyes. “What’s wrong?” “Jinwei Li…” Richard followed Lulan's gaze as well. “Is that someone you know?” “I think so.” Lulan exhaled, shivering a little. “I think that’s one of my seniors from the Clan.” “So what?” She squeezed her cheeks. “Once we get some new magic happening, you’ll kick his ass.” “I’ll work harder!” Lulan replied earnestly. “If you’re anxious, we'll call in some outside help,” Gwen plagiarised Walken’s advice. “Let’s put in a CC request for a high-impact solid-projectile spell. Failing that, we can put in a request to learn that spell you told me. Currency makes the world go round, after all." "Crystals can convince even ghosts to mill the rice." Richard borrowed an old Confucian observation. “The Heart-piercing Sword.” Lulan nodded. “It’s a tier 6 spell that’s only taught to the inner-sect students.” “I still can’t believe that’s the extent of your Sect’s spell-tiers.” Gwen grimaced. When Richard asked Kusu to produce a Spell-list, they were both surprised to find that the Huashan Sect had never converted the full extent of their ‘Sword-Path’ invocations to the Imperial Metric System. “We’re an ancient Sect, but we’re poor,” Lulan lamented. “Huashan isn’t rich in resources or Magical Beasts, and all of our practitioners utilise the Iron-Heart Technique, so outsiders can’t use our spells.” A Sect that has fallen behind in the economy of Spellcraft, Gwen mused privately. Their predicament was akin to a country still stuck bartering wood while the rest of the world had moved onto Petrol-bucks. “Let’s get to it then.” She took Lulan by the arm. “I can pony up the CCs if you’re short. The earlier we get help, the sooner you'll be smashing faces.” “I’ll be alright.” Lulan tore her eyes away from her cousin's name. “I haven’t spent a single CC in two years…” "Ooo! There it goes!" The sound of an excited squeal rang across the generous space of the Instructor-only training hall. "The form is sustaining nicely." Walken tracked the floating ring as it sliced through the air soundlessly. Ah~, the joy of creation, Gwen patted herself on the back. Arguably, the dopamine hit from reaching a Spellcraft milestone was akin to succeeding in a business project, only- "I say, it's coming back toward us," Walken remarked drily, clearing his throat. Considering the limited range of the training hall, Gwen had designated the spell to curve as to avoid hitting the walls. Unfortunately, the disk of destruction appeared to be on a parabolic path back to its designer. "Shit!" Gwen stood in front of Walken. "Caliban!" "Shaa!" Caliban leapt into the air as though the subject of a Crufts cosmic horror commercial and snapped at the dark band. A section of the Chakram disappeared into the creature's maw, the rest of her disk, having lost its angular momentum, hurtled toward Gwen and her Instructor with murderous glee. "Shield!" A frontal Lightning Shield in a semi-sphere was just enough to catch the wildly spinning, half-eaten disk. Holy shit! Gwen felt her back soak with cold sweat. She was sure she had seen something similar in the past where some self-tracking projectile ended up maiming its owner. The sense of déjà vu just now was intense! "Perhaps a termination invocation should be built in," Walken announced drily. "We wouldn't want any surprises like that in the field." Much like Lulan’s, Gwen’s Signature Spell had hit a snag. Void Matter wasn’t like Lightning. Despite the inexplicable rationale behind conjuring thundering plasma, Gwen's knowledge of electricity made her spells more or less a matter of common sense. For instance, in the case of her first-ever Lightning spell, Blast Bolt, all she had to do was designate two points, the resultant lightning then flowed between the two spatial tears into the Material world, saturating an area with Lichtenberg figures. But for Void, she could only make a face and keep trying. In a physical sense, Void-matter was akin to magnetised Ferrofluid in its viscosity. When left alone and kept sizzling on a plane of pure mana, Void-matter formed hydrophobic droplets of all-consuming anti-matter, hungrily skittering about, trying to find the slightest incline to escape. When an invocation spell-shaped the fluid, it took on the elicited form. Lightning Grasp, for example, evoked a dangerous splutter of crackling dark lightning, while a dark gash of consuming energy formed the basis of Void Bolt. As for the thrice-damned Cloud Kill, her Void-matter manifested a fine-mist particle field. The latter, Gwen noted, was especially dangerous, corroding anything and everything, rapidly consuming her vitality on useless things like the air, soil, plants, and so on. Only in hyper-dense concentrations of biomass should she even consider activating the spell, not that she would wish such a grotesque agony upon anyone. As for the optimal employment of the Void element, Sobel had the right idea: Void was an element almost tailormade for Conjured Creatures. Nonetheless, she needed a Void-specific attack spell and Gwen was confident a 'Chakram' should work. Lucy Lawless’ flawless multi-kills aside, there were perfect historical examples of Chakrams been used as early as the Delhi Sultanate. If her memory of the BBC Documentary served, records stated that these rings ‘cut through all’ and had a range of sixty to a hundred meters. As for her current progress, functionality was prevented by the fact that when she ceased supplying mana to the spell, the ‘ring’ fell into a liquid state. At a range of just over twenty-meters, she would splash her target rather than cut it. That's why to prevent structural collapse, she increased the rotational momentum and added a persistent ‘cache’ of mana to be used while the projectile remained in flight. “So it’s a Frisbee,” she told herself. Or more accurately, an Aerobie. She recalled playing with one when she was a kid. On the packaging of Percy’s one time Boxing Day toy, it had boasted of holding the Guinness World Record for the longest throw of an object without velocity-aiding features, measuring at 400 or so meters. Unfortunately, she did not read the instruction’s small print - 'Aerobie does not float’. Two throws at the beach and that was the end of Helena’s $19.99. Suffice it to say, Percy was heartbroken, and her mother had grown insufferable. Maybe that's why the thing came back to her? “You’ll have to keep experimenting with the incantation order.” Walken arranged and re-arranged her spell-stack into new variations while she checked her notes. “Give that a go.” “I don't get why it doesn't do as its told,” Gwen grumbled. “Check this out, Lightning Chakram!” A ring of blue-white plasma launched into the distance made a loop around her target, then fizzled as it returned to her. “Cake-walk.” “With your tier 6 Affinity and Ariel helping you spell-shape, why wouldn't it work?” Gwen petted her pseudo-Kirin. Ariel purred, its whole body vibrating. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. “You could have finished by now,” Walken remarked sardonically. “If you were to 'upgrade' Caliban.” “Ah, but you forget.” Gwen gave her Instructor the stink eye. “I am a masochist.” “Of course, my apologies.” Her Instructor amused himself at her expense. “Let me know how those combinations go.” “Will do.” Gwen packed her indexes, manuals, primers, notebooks, data slates, assorted tea and biscuits. “See you tomorrow, Eric.” “Hey Marong, does Mia have an ER Message Device in Yangon?” Feeling strangely unsettled one morning, Gwen decided to shoot the Smoke Mage a Message before he returned to the old country. “You’re joking, right?” The Message came back during breakfast. “All Divination Messages are routed through a Tower. We don’t have a Tower in Yangon - or Myăma for that matter. The closest Tower is in the Chengdu Frontier in China, over two thousand kilometres away.” Gwen slapped her forehead. “In that case, is there any way to contact her?” “Send me a Message, I’ll relay it over, and when she sends you a Message, I’ll route it through Chengdu when I or someone from the trade consortium is there. We do have a brisk jade and gemstone trade with China, so expect a week’s turn-around.” "Okay, will do, thanks Marong." After Magus Young's Evocation lecture, she did precisely that. “Mia, it’s me, Gwen. I hope you’re doing well in Yangon. How’s the old country, your home sweet home? Too bad you can’t send me pictures of the place, I’d love to meet your extended family one day. Before you ask, yes, Marong and I spoke about it, and I don't mind at all. In other news, I’ve been selected for the IIUC! It was a breeze. Richard and Lulu have been chosen as well. I am sure you know already that Kitty’s on the list as well, though she’s been avoiding me. Ariel and Cali are doing well, as is everyone else. If you run into trouble or if people bother you, let me know! Maybe I can do something, ask for a few favours, that sort of thing. Marong says you’ll be back in May. Don't forget the 25th! It'll be our second one! Can’t wait to see you again - Gwen.” “Got it. It’s cute,” Marong's Message fired back. “I’ll leave in two days. Hopefully, she'll make it to your party.” “Make sure she does!” Gwen warned the brother. "Or I am holding you responsible!" Marong failed to reply, but she was confident Mia wouldn’t miss the birthday party, not when Dai wanted to make the spectacle equivalent to the first inauguration of the Gwen administration. After a pleasant weekend spent with family, a new week began. Now deep into the academic term, practicals took precedence over theory. Conjuration’s twin-modules: 'Advanced Translocation of Objects and Localised Effects' and 'Conjuration of Elemental Effects, Duration and Interactions' came to an end, with the remaining three weeks dedicated to tutorial workshops. With her Affinity and her VMI, Birch's benchmarks were passed without incident. Conversely, Evocation required several degrees of additional effort. As the weaker of Gwen's two Schools of Magic, her finesses was, as Magus Young put it: 40% Ariel and only 60% herself. “You’re too generalised,” Young observed critically, puckering her lips in thought. “I know you’re capable, Gwen, but you’re hardly going to match a Master Evoker at this rate. The weakness will show in the future when higher-tier magic becomes available to you. Your lack of specialisation will impact the efficacy of your support mandalas, especially when drawing multi-layer strategic-class invocations.” Gwen felt a stab to her pride. The Magister was right. Even with Walken chalking up incantation combinations and helping her with calculations, her limited knowledge hamstrung her progress. “If you’re keen to make Signature Spells, take Deconstruction of Spell Theory for your second semester, then Critical Appraisal of Spell-Structure when you return from the IIUC next year,” Young recommended wholeheartedly. “For a future Tower Master, the ability to deconstruct and re-construct magic is expected. DST3040 re-hashes existing theory and breaks down the processes involved in the evolution of the Imperial Metric System. As for CAS4010, it’s taught by Magister Julian Fennen on loan from the Imperial College of London. He’s only in Fudan until his research concludes, so I’d hurry.” Listening attentively, she took the headful of advice with humility, realising just how far she had to go. Thankfully, Magus Young’s critiques aside, she had achieved nothing but sterling results in her practicals. Meanwhile, her bestiary course with Instructor Chen had been usurped by Walken. With Aella the winged serpent leading the way, Ariel’s ability as a Kirin-shaped all-weather, carrier-capable, multirole combatant transitioned from dog-paddling to dogfighting. A little disconcertingly, perhaps because of their mutual Draconic-nature, or maybe because they both hailed from Australia, Ariel had grown attached to the rainbow-hued Couatl. “Play-sparring is the best training.” Walken’s philosophy was unexpectedly lax. “To mature a Familiar like yours and mine, we need to constantly give them new experiences, fresh encounters, opportunities for them to think cognitively and develop their Ego.” “Caliban can recognise NoMs now, I think,” Gwen informed her trainer. “It knows the meat-bun lady at Five-Mile Dumplings and the guy who sells Teatime Bubble Tea. Normally, it only recognises Mages.” “It’s the mana signature,” Walken explained patiently. “Lacking eyes, I suspect your little monster has a sense-ability akin to the Death Worm, who can identify prey through the tremor of their footfalls. Do you feel Ariel has grown?” “Eeee! Eee!” Ariel affirmed Walken's suggestion. “Ariel, say Mama!” “Eee! EE?!” "Child! Child!" Aella was merciless in its superiority. Ariel sulked. “It could do with more Draconic-cores, I’d imagine." Walken studied the Kirin as it struggled to enunciate the simple words. "It took Aella about two decades to be able to form thoughts complex enough to communicate. Linguistics, unlike Empathic Link, is a hugely complex trait. It requires abstract reasoning found only in sapient creatures. With your Consume ability and that Conjure Familiar Henry constructed for you, I’d dare say…” “Come on, Eric,” Gwen intervened. “Broken Vid-caster much?” "I try." Walken shrugged. “Anyway.” Gwen turned back to her creatures. “Cali seems to do okay with the dogs though, despite its simple-mindedness.” “The pack-instinct comes from Morden’s Hounds,” Walken flatly denied any possibility of Caliban’s imminent ascension. “Caliban is top-dog, that’s all. Were you to lack a creature such as Caliban; the Bloodhound would fill in as the Alpha. Morden was a master since before the Victorians.” “Too bad he’s long gone.” “You’d think.” Walken smiled. “He has descendants still living in Scotland. They have their home at Inverness - an infamous bunch, in fact, notable for their dislike of the Britannic Mageocracy.” “Truly? That's amazing.” Gwen felt seriously impressed by the longevity of Morden’s bloodline. “I wonder what they think about a teenage girl-Mage selling improved variations of Morden’s spells.” Walken chuckled. “The House of Morden isn’t what it used to be, but in Scotland, their word carries weight.” “Gunther took care of it.” Gwen grinned back at her Instructor, wondering if he was trying to frighten her. “I am just an incidental benefactor of my Master’s Estate.” After her retort, Walken chose the wisdom of silence. As for her lesser courses, Translocation and Utility Divination both progressed swimmingly. Thanks to peripheral improvements and some tricks of the trade, Gwen could now Dimension Door up to a maximum range of three hundred odd meters, pending her familiarity with the terrain. In total, she could DD up to six times in quick succession before she expelled her lunch. Additionally, if she were to apportion her DDs into twin-sets with three-second intervals for recuperation, she could manage ten consecutive casts. If the time came again for a dine-and-dash like that time with uncle Jun, she was confident in her escape. “That’s impressive.” Birch had applauded. “Even at the higher end of tier 7, I can manage five kilometres on a good day. Your accuracy, however, will improve with experience, or in your case, with the growth of your Divination. If you ever train up Ariel's scouting capabilities, you could increase your range yet again.” Speaking of Divination, her practice with Arcane Sight, a spell that allowed her to detect invisible creatures and see through low-tier Illusions, was going well. As for her primary goal, the much-anticipated Link Sight, a few months of dedicated labour remained. Finally, for her Gen-Ed subjects, her tutorials had gone relatively well. Feedback from Professor Ma was that her peers enjoyed her teaching style as well as her unique workshop questions. If all goes well and she successfully aided Ma in grading the two-hundred-odd papers by the end of Semester break, she would receive two perfect High-Distinctions. What remained then was Spell-Shaping and Magister Michio Lee’s far too optimistic anticipation that a girl without a Higher Magical Aptitude Certificate was going to impress him with an original Void spell. “Sorry, Sir- KITTY!” Gwen apologised to Wing Commander Dienhart before intercepting Mayuree’s bodyguard mid-air. “Hey!” Gwen levelled off against the girl while they sped through the illusory obstacle course. “Congrats on passing the interview.” “Don’t talk to me.” Kitty’s rejection came fast and hard, her voice sharp and full of icicles. The Dual-Element Mage suddenly banked, performed a corkscrew before threading through a loop. Gritting her teeth, Gwen supplied more mana to the body-reinforcement spell taught by their Instructor to reduce the effect of sudden acceleration and deceleration. Focusing her mind, she followed Kitty’s manoeuvre, barely making it through the target ring. “What’s wrong?” Gwen was faster on the straights because she could afford to burn her reserves. “You weren’t like this when Mia was around.” “Will you shove off already?!” Kitty snapped, suddenly accelerating upward toward the next target. Gwen overshot her trajectory and had to loop around to point herself in the right direction. When flying, movements towards the zenith consumed the most mana, while dives were the most economical. Interestingly, it was breaking and banking that exerted the most significant burden on one’s mana pool, not to mention one's physical body. “Come on, don’t be like that!” She persisted, leaving behind a dense trail of inefficiently spent Lightning mana. On the sideline, Wing Commander Dienhart was enjoying the show. Kitty was a natural dogfighter. The girl’s petite frame in addition to her Ice and Air element gave her the nimbleness of a pixie. Gwen, on the other hand, reminded Dienhart of a wyvern, a powerhouse flyer that executed every manoeuvre, accomplished every turn with pure athleticism. Still, considering the girl could only fly in linear trajectories when she arrived, he was satisfied as a teacher. But after twenty laps of the sparrow versus wyvern aerial tag, even the Wing Commander grew annoyed. Kitty landed, pale and puffing from the excessive expenditure. Gwen performed a summersault overhead when she failed to check in time, landing far enough that she had to walk the rest of the way. “Have you heard from Mayuree?” Gwen inquired earnestly, not the least puffed out. “Sure.” Kitty looked up, her pale eyes the colour of blue-tinged glacier. As the mana drained from her body, however, her irises took on a pecan hue. “Mia's doing well.” “That's good to hear. How’re things back in the old country?” “Cosy.” "No Tyrant troubles?" "None at all," Kitty replied, her face hidden by her shoulder-length hair. “When do you think she’s coming back? I’ve got a party on the 25th of May; you’re invited as well. I hope Marong gave Mia the Message." In the next moment, Kitty’s expression grew catty and hostile. “I need to train.” The girl turned from Gwen. “We’re not friends, Miss Song. Please don’t talk to me unless it's life or death.” Before Gwen could retort, the girl ran off, aided by body-enhancement magic. A none too pleased Wing Commander Dienhart reached her side, sympathetic but otherwise offended. “I shouldn’t butt in,” the veteran growled. “But don’t bring that kind of drama to my lessons. In the field, I’d have both of you disciplined. Mark my words, you'll be up to your knees in latrine duty.” “Sorry, Commander,” Gwen apologised. “I don’t know what’s happening either.” “Well, whatever it is, you better at least reach Kitty’s lowest lap record.” “Yessir!” Gwen snapped to attention. In the next second, feeling frustrated and irritable, she took off in a blast of silvery Lightning, threading through the gaps in the obstacle course with the bumbling grace of a honeyed-up bumblebee.

April passed without Gwen catching Kitty even once, not even when she commanded Ariel to camp at the entrance of the penthouse, terrifying the cleaners who came every Monday night. The whole ordeal had left a sour taste in her mouth, for if they were to be on the same side for the IIUC, what did their current relationship forebode for their future teamwork? Her immediate instinct was to consult Marong, but Mayuree's brother had left as well, leaving her with well-wishes and a promise that the House of M would soon deliver her friend's return Message. As for the week ahead, other than her dedicated class and work times, she had set herself two tasks. One was a luncheon with Senior Bai to discuss potential competitors, and the other was to make tangible progress in her twin endeavours of completing her Chakram as well as Lulan’s Panzerschreck. Of the two, Senior Bai was her first order of business. Bai Tei looked around the small, cramped restaurant awkwardly, uncomfortable in his mandarin jacket. For their secret wish fulfilment, the other members of the duelling club had goaded him into dressing up for the occasion. In his Storage Ring, he even had a bouquet of rare Wildland flowers from a nearby florist. "How many?" A heavily set NoM woman who Bai could only assume to be the lady-boss of Fengbo Village, famous for its Beggar’s Chicken, asked if he was alone or with a group. Close to dinner time, the place was packed shoulder to shoulder, its air gravid with the scent of spiced fowl. “I am looking for someone.” Bai swallowed, quickly undoing a few buttons. “Senior! Over here!” Bai cursed those bastards at the Duelling Club. When the girl stood to reveal herself, the whole restaurant took note. It was like that time when he went with Uncle Chu to the Front, where a hundred Jiang-shi suddenly turned toward him with their phosphorescent eyes when he prematurely activated his magic. Regretting everything, he squeezed past the patrons toward the girl, finding her alone. Curiously, there was a ring of space which surrounded their table. “Shaa!” The answer to Bai’s silent enquiry revealed itself, sloppily absorbing on an enormous stock-bone with its lamprey’s maw. “EEE!” Beside Caliban was her other Familiar, likewise sitting on the floor with a bone of its own, chewing away happily. “The boss-lady was very kind.” She flashed him a winning smile. “Come, sit.” He couldn’t help but notice that she wore a flattering dress; though arguably, Gwen could wear a rice-sack and be no less attractive. Pausing slightly, Bai purged his head of useless thoughts with a mote of Elemental Dust, then sat. The stupid idiots at the club had warped his expectations, but it didn't mean he should continue to entrench himself in fantasy. “My shout,” Gwen offered. “Whatever you like.” “You can order,” Bai informed their honorary member. “My sense of taste has… declined somewhat.” “Oh, is that an elemental trait?” “Something like that.” Bai nodded. “Our senses dull over time, and the stimulus required to reach the old threshold grows increasingly more and more demanding. My Master takes his salt by the fistful.” “I am sorry to hear that.” Gwen's expression was one of devastation. For a foodie like her, 'sans taste' was a fate akin to death. “Coming from a Void user, I am grateful.” The girl's smile was as sweet as nectar. “Mama Chu! Beggar’s banquet! Extra Chicken!” “You heard her, Banquet-extra-chicken!” “Coming right up, Miss!” After the juicy morsels filled the void left by the absence of meaningful conversation, Bai began to query Gwen's unexpected generosity. That was when under no uncertain terms, she asked Bai to give her a rundown of who would pose a 'threat'. “To you? Why would anyone be a threat to you?" “To Lulan or Richard, I mean.” “I see.” Bai mulled over the list in his head. “I am confident Richard can assume the second Defence slot, or a Controller position. However, your ex-Clanner is indeed in a precarious position.” “Any advice?” “Realistically? No, it’s a fair competition, leave it to the Proctors. You're not thinking of anything unsavoury, I hope.” “But can you tell me about them at least?” Gwen fluttered her voluminous lashes innocently. “I can access their Tower records with CCs, but that doesn't tell me about their quirks or their characters. I would prefer not to walk into the June training session blind as a dingbat.” Bai regarded Gwen’s pleading eyes. The dim glow of her vivid pupils in the amber ambiance of the restaurant’s sickly bulbs told him that it was a terrible idea to give the girl what she wanted. After their fateful encounter on the duelling field, his Clan had given him express advice to tread lightly. “Please?” The Void Sorceress flashed her pearly teeth, her face coy and full of feigned innocence. “I shouldn’t.” Bai circulated another mote of Dust. “That information is privy to Fudan DC.” “Give me something.” She leaned in. “Biggest threat to Lulan’s assured selection. That's all I ask.” His mind caught in a jumble, a name came to Bai’s lips. After masticating the syllables in his mind, he relented that it wasn’t so bad if he let one through. “What’s in it for me?” Bai averted his psychic assailant’s wanton eyes. “Whatever you like,” the girl teased him. “I want you to leave him alone. How’s that?” “Sure.” Gwen's swift response made light of his request. “I promise.” “Hmm,” Bai grunted. “Jinwei Li” “From Lulu's family?” “Yes. A third-year - keeps to himself usually; quiet and doesn’t speak much. Jinwei hails from Huashan’s Inner Sect, the Patriarch's faction. He's sitting at the apex of Lulan’s generation.” “Would Lulu know him?” “Presumably. From what I've heard from the other Clanners, your girl's problems with her Iron Heart technique makes her a bit of an outcast. On the other hand, Jinwei is a decent fellow. The strange thing is, he’s never shown any interest in Fudan’s extra-curricular pursuits, like most Clanner prodigies, he’s enrolled to receive a degree from a C9 university, then go home. It was the same with Lulan Li; they’re only here for the formal certification.” “How about you?” “I can’t say I am not in the same boat, but I do enjoy my time here.” Bai smiled. “The reason I am telling you this is because I can’t figure out why Jinwei would sign up to the IIUC. He’s a third-year, meaning even if he’s a part of the winning team, all his gains are limited. For Lulan and Kusu, a win could be huge. They could find new Masters, gain scholarship grants, receive positions in the CCP or Pudong Tower - as for Jinwei; he'll receive a better position, that's all.” “So you think he’s here for Lulu?” “Its as good a reason as any other,” Bai confessed. “There’s no promoting Huashan’s Spellcraft because no one else can use it. I mean, take yourself, for example, your Spell List uses IMS incantations, and your purpose is to peddle Void Magic to the public. For Jinwei, who knows?” “That is suspect." Gwen’s eyes flashed dangerously. "If he’s here to pull Lulan’s leg…” “Gwen, you promised…” “Yeah-yeah.” The Void sorceress averted Bai’s eyes. “Thanks, Senior Bai. I owe you one.” Bai sipped his ice tea. Hopefully, the Clan of Li saved themselves the trouble. If not, and if Jinwei Li attempted to sabotage Lulan’s IIUC opportunities, then Bai could only pray that Huashan preached the Confucian teachings that the Junzi must remain unbound by negative emotions of resentment and vengeance. Likewise, as a disciple of the old Masters, it was his duty to give the girl at least a little guidance. "Gwen." Bai cleared his throat, then smiling, he adopted a segment from the Analects. "The gentleman is never contentious. Even in losing, he shall retire to drink the forfeit-cup. So that in victory or loss, he remains a true Junzi." The girl's grin was enough to melt the smile right from his face. "Oh, but Sir," Gwen assured her senior of her best intentions. "I am not a gentleman." As it turned out, Eric Walken was precisely the sort of scoundrel Confucious feared. “Here are the stats on your competitors.” Walken passed over almost two-dozen data slates. “Have a look and advise me on how you wish to proceed. Remember, all’s fair in love and war.” Banishing Senior Bai from her mind, Gwen lowered her eyes and perused the data slates. **Anita Wong** **Position::** Defence **P.O.B::** China, Beijing **Ethnicity::** Han **Age:** 19 **Eyes:** Amber (Clear) **Hair:** Black **Height:** 168CM Transmutation (5), Abjuration (3) **Quasi-Elemental::** Mineral (Calcite) **Spirit::** Rock-Eater (Minor) **S.I.D::** 12598 S0203 **Questing Class Permit::** A2 **P.P.M.I.D::** 9443399 002 **Note::** Persistent Crystalline Effects, Spirit can restore Caster’s mana by consuming Transmuted or Conjured Earth Elements. There’s even a picture of the young woman, a northerner with sharp cheekbones and a mirthful smile. Quickly, Gwen skimmed through the others, pausing whenever she struck a familiar name. **Karie Mok** **Position ::** Utility **P.O.B::** China, Hangzhou Frontier **Ethnicity:** Han **Age::** 20 **Eyes:** Black **Hair:** Dark Blue **Height:** 154CM Divination (5), Illusion (4) **Prime-Elemental::** Air **Spirit::** None **S.I.D::** 12598 S0101 **P.P.M.I.D ::** 8942379 003 **Questing Class Permit::** A4 **Note::** Currently the sole specialist Diviner in Selection The only Diviner. Gwen touched a finger to her lips. Alas, that spot could have belonged to Mayuree. Now that Miss Mok was the sole Diviner, the only recourse was that she and this girl must both enjoy a most cordial working relationship. Next was her cousin. **Richard Huang** **Position::** Defence, Control **P.O.B::** Australia, Sydney **Ethnicity:** Eurasian **Age:** 19 **Eyes:** Grey, Dark **Hair:** Brown, Dark **Height:** 185 CM Conjuration (5) Abjuration (4) **Prime Elemental::** Water **Spirit::** Lea (Sapient Undine, High) **S.I.D::** 12601 S0203 **P.P.M.I.D ::** 8341279 005 **Questing Class Permit::** AA2 **Note::** Undine Spirit allows complete control of water with effectiveness up to tier 8. Key strategist. Unless selected with Gwen Song, the contestant will withdraw from the IIUC. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The note flooded Gwen with a flush of warmth. **Lu Fung** **Position::** Offence **P.O.B::** China, Nantong **Age::** 18 **Ethnicity:** Han **Eyes:** Black **Hair:** Black **Height:** 172CM Conjuration (5), Divination (3) Evocation (2) **Quasi-Elemental::** Lightning **Spirit:** : Wanli (Medium) **S.I.D::** 13598 S0203 **P.P.M.I.D ::** 8342228 004 **Questing Class Permit::** A3 **Note::** Aerial Familiar. Poor Lu, she thought to herself. The Conjurer would have been amazing if not for their mutual redundancies. Even though Lu appeared to have completed his Divination for Link-Sight before she did, she wasn't confident in his chances. **Lulan Li** **Position::** Offence **P.O.B::** China, Shaanxi Frontier **Age::** 17 **Ethnicity:** Han **Eyes:** Brown **Hair:** Black **Height:** 164 CM Huashan Sword-Art (5) **Prime-Elemental::** Earth (Iron) **Spirit::** None **S.I.D::** 16798 S0102 **P.P.M.I.D ::** 8783379 003 **Questing Class Permit::** AA2 **Note::** Experienced Questing Mage. Unless selected with Gwen Song, the contestant will withdraw from the IIUC. Lulan was such a sweetie. **Kitty Liang** **Position::** Offence, Control **P.O.B::** China, Qinhai Frontier **Age::** 18 **Ethnicity:** Hui **Eyes:** Brown (Light) **Hair:** Black **Height:** 159 CM Evocation (5) Transmutation (5) **Para-Elemental ::** Air / Ice **Spirit::** Ice Roc (Minor) **S.I.D ::** 11597 S0103 **P.P.M.I.D ::** 8341279 005 **Questing Class Permit::** A4 **Note::** Exceptional aerial combatant, excellent control over dual-elemental magic. The next slate was for herself, with the same headshot she had taken when she enrolled. **Gwen Song** **Position::** Offence, Control **P.O.B::** Australia, Sydney **Age::** 17 **Ethnicity:** Eurasian **Eyes:** Hazel (Green) **Hair:** Black **Height:** 182CM Evocation (5), Conjuration (5) Transmutation (3) Abjuration (2) Divination (1) Illusion (2) **Quasi-Elemental ::** Lightning / Void **Spirit::** Ariel (Pseudo Kirin, Minor) Caliban (Void Beast, unconfirmed) **S.I.D::** 12598 S0203 **P.P.M.I.D ::** 9840598 001 **Questing Class Permit::** A2 **Note::** Void Mage. The individual is extremely dangerous. Potentially unstable. Candidate backing including Nantong Fungs, Dean Luo, Jun Song and Ambassador Ayxin of Huangshan. Am I taller again? Gwen furrowed her brows. She wasn’t going to become a basketball player at this rate, was she? And 'extremely dangerous?' Well, she supposed that was right. Unstable? Now that’s just rude- AYXIN? The Dragon-princess had put in a word for her? Was this her returning a favour, or was this at uncle Jun’s behest? If Ayxin made a request, then her selection was most certainly assured. No official would risk the sanctuary of Shanghai just so that they could follow ethical guidelines for a Questing competition Fudan had failed for two decades straight. After taking a moment to take in the gravitas of her nepotic rise to power, Gwen quickly flipped through the data slates until she found the one Senior Bai had mentioned. **Jinwei Li** **Position::** Offence **P.O.B::** China, Xian **Age::** 20 **Ethnicity:** Han - Uyghur **Eyes:** Grey (Light) **Hair:** Warm Brown **Height:** 176 CM Huashan Sword-Art (6) **Prime-Elemental::** Earth (Iron) **Spirit:** : Onyx Cricket (Medium) **S.I.D::** 12598 S0203 **Questing Class Permit:** : AA1 **P.P.M.I.D:** : 8235909 003 **Note::** Commendation from General Yingyi Hao for exceptional valour in combat. Jesus, Gwen swore under her breath. Lulan had nothing on this guy. It was like comparing herself to Lu Fung. The headshot showed a serious looking young man with large, oval eyes more typical of nomads living on the western steppes. The rest of the man’s face was atypically Han-Chinese, pancake flat and delicate, with thin lips and a straight, flattering nose. Rather than handsome, Gwen found the young man strangely effeminate. Walken glanced over her shoulder. He liked to do that a lot, she noticed. “That one's giving you grief?” “Not yet.” Gwen mulled her options. “Where did you get these?” “Found them lying around." The two exchanged a look. “So that you know, the Chinese have a saying: strike first and gain the upper hand,” Walken spoke beside her ear. “Why resolve a problem when you can prevent one?” Gwen swallowed apprehensively, reading her Instructor's thoughts. "Wouldn't that be... unethical?" "Ha!" Walken snorted. "You think they wouldn't do the same to you? They're afraid, that's all! The University - the Tower - your allies will skin anyone who dares!" "But-" "No 'buts'!" "Eric-" "Gwen - if you can take advantage of a situation in some way, it is your duty to do so. Why should the race always be to the swift or the contest to the strong? Should your competitors be allowed an advantage merely because of their superior gifts, rarer talents, their God-gifted grace? Of course not: victory, Gwen, is the gift man gives himself. Your contemplation of 'fairness' is a disservice to yourself." "I am pretty sure that is NOT what Ecclesiastes says," Gwen recognised at least a part of Walken's faux bible blurb. "No, but it is the psalm of victors." Walken's face burned with a fervent faith. Her teeth clenched. The man's advice was difficult to refute. What is fairness? She found herself questioning her motives. Where's the line separating morality and immorality? Was this a case of the hero’s hubris turning them into the villain? What would she do? Use the Fung Clan to pressure Huashan until the Clan relented, or use her money to crush the Clan's finances, then use the leverage to force them to give up all their secrets for Lulan while simultaneously withdrawing Jinwei? Given the next four months, it was doable. But that would be evil. Or would it? Wouldn’t her enemies have done the same, relenting but for the lack of gall? It’s a slippery slope! She cautioned herself against Walken! BUT! The crony capitalist in her mind stood up in her four-inch heels. Isn’t ruthless competition the whole point? A true Laissez-faire market of 'fair competition' was just a pipe dream, something that never existed in the first place. In a perfect world, if they were bakers and not Mages, they would all submit their pies to market, and everyone would have a fair shake of the sauce bottle. The reality though, was that if she were to bake the world's greatest sausage roll, it was more likely some scoundrel on the other side would try to steal her recipe, break her fingers, or prohibit her goods from sale. As such, as the one holding the tongs, shouldn’t she reciprocate? To be fair was to be unfair to herself: that was the case for business, if so, why shouldn't it apply to her competitors here? An arc of electricity leapt from her hair, singing the air. Opposite, Walken marvelled at the girl’s hawkish gaze staring into the middle distance, her lips muttering words only she could hear. As shades of colour played through the pale complexion of her face, the Magister couldn't help but be reminded of how Gwen had deceived him. Blackmail? Extortion? Coercion? What terrible plans must the girl be concocting now? The next morning Gwen Song woke from troubled dreams, finding herself transformed in her bed into a horrible vermin. “God, you look terrible,” Petra observed when she finally crawled out of bed. “Are you not using your Essence?” “Errghn,” Gwen excused herself. She had spent the whole night fantasising about all the things she shouldn't be doing. “What’s wrong?” “… nothing.” She made a face, wondering if she should tell Petra she’s deciding on whether to undermine her competitors unscrupulously. “How’s the Chakram going?” Her cousin misread her anxiety. “I am testing out propulsion and range with Magister Lee on Thursday.” Gwen sighed. “Making new spells is hard.” Petra laughed. “It took Master and me two years to formalise Spell Cubes as a new class of Magic.” she chuckled. “Of course it’s hard.” “But you’re pioneering a whole new branch of Spellcraft, going where no Mage has ever gone before!” Gwen buttered her cousin and companion. “I am just trying to put some age-old knowledge together in a functional way.” Petra blushed. ‘Ding!’ Gwen's Message device chimed. “Sorry, let me get this. Lulu, what’s up?… What? WHAT?! OKAY, WAIT FOR ME!” “Sorry, Pats - emergency!” Gwen scowled. The bastard! She spat internally. To think Huashan would strike when she least expected it! “What’s wrong?” Petra watched her cousin fly into a seething malevolence. “What’s this about?” “I’ve been looking up a guy called Jinwei Li,” Gwen explained from the bedroom, quickly slipping out of her nightie and slapping on whatever was on hand. “Struggling - STRUGGLING with my conscience to not send the guy to meet the Mermen in Nantong, and now he comes calling at Lulu’s!” “Who’s Jinwei?” The Russian observed her glowering, pink-fleshed cousin. “Another molester?” “Nope!” Gwen growled, spluttering as she struggled into her dress. “Worse!” “Ahahahaha…” Gwen laughed awkwardly, holding Lulan close to her body, a hand gripping each shoulder. “As I thought, it’s all a misunderstanding!” “Gwen…” Lulan winced. “You’re hurting me.” “Sorry!” Her fumbling fingers relaxed. A few minutes ago, she had charged head first into Lulan’s apartment with both Familiars akimbo. The moment Gwen saw Jinwei looming over Lulan, she let loose a surge of concentrated Dragon-fear like a shaped-charge, blasting the poor Sword Mage with the force of a high-tier Horrify. On reflex, Jinwei leapt backwards, a gleaming sword materialising in each hand, filling the air with the sound of screaming metal. “Take him down!” Gwen commanded. "But keep him alive!" Ariel leapt onto Lulan’s dining table, scattering plates, fried tofu, soy sauce, porridge and pickles all over. Meanwhile, Caliban slithered through the kitchen to flank the Mage, banging through the cramped space, sending down a torrent of spice-jars, cups, glasses and a pot lid. “On your knees, Asshole!” Gwen's voice thundered through the room, shaking plaster from the walls. “How dare you!” “Gwen, no!” "I haven't finished eating!" Kusu despaired. Lulan tackled Ariel as it zoomed toward Jinwei, hugging it close to her chest. Kusu sidestepped, halting Caliban’s advance. “Miss Song! Why are you attacking me? I am here at your behest!” Jinwei fired back, both swords raised for self-defence. Perplexed, Gwen commanded her Familiars to stand down. “What? Explain yourself!" “I am here because of the request you and Lulan set at Fudan T2!” Gwen looked at Lulan nodding her head desperately. Kusu likewise moved his chin up and down vigorously. “Cousin Jinwei is here for the Heart-piercing Sword Quest,” Lulan’s brother informed their saviour. “Hence, you and Lulu invited him.” Ariel gave its Master a look, asking if it should maim the guy and be done with it. Caliban slobbered all over, despoiling Kusu' rug. “Ah~...” Gwen cringed, feeling herself shrink. She grabbed Lulan, then hid behind the girl's profile to mask her evident mortification. The Old Gods beyond! She groaned. It was true; she was the reason the man was over at Lulan’s apartment in the first place. To the poor bugger, it must seem like she and Lulu had lured him into a trap, and now the three of them were going to send him to the hospital for a long time. “Sorry!” she apologised again, recalling her complaining Familiars. “Shall we… take a seat?” The trio looked around the apartment. Its current state suggested a trio of Tasmanian devils had ravaged the Li siblings' abode. “Or not.” Gwen squeezed Lulan's arm like a stress ball, making the girl wince. “Erm… brunch, my shout?” Thankfully, with an hour to spare before class, there was enough time for the foursome to gather at a local cafe and discuss the matter of Jinwei’s visit. “I am here for the CCs,” Jinwei confessed. “As well as a peace offering from the main family.” An olive branch? Gwen sipped her coffee. “I am not going back,” Lulan stated right off the bat. "You tell 'em," Gwen affirmed Lulu's decision. "No one is going to make you go anywhere." Kusu appeared pained, thinking of the leverage lost after Lulan refuted Jinwei’s offer without even hearing the man out. A simpleton his sister was, but she was honest and dear to his heart. “I am afraid returning would be impossible,” Jinwei answered earnestly. The young man's almond eyes gave him an affable appearance. “The two of you broke Clan law. If anything, it’s a miracle that both of you have retained the Iron-heart technique. Normally, we are honour-bound to retrieve the catalyst.” “Then why are you helping Lulu?” Gwen's voice cut through the space between Lulan and her cousin. “You joined the IIUC trial. I want to know why. Is it to sabotage her chances?” “Nothing of the sort,” Jinwei refuted the accusation. “I’ve been instructed to support Miss Li and if need be, gift her my slot if she happens to fail the selection criterion.” Both Lulan and Kusu appeared bewildered. Gwen remained dubious. This gift was equally a threat. “In exchange, the Huashan Clan would like to ask Miss Song to repay the favour.” “Oh?” Gwen crossed her arms. “A favour from me?” “Yes.” Jinwei simpered. “Could you ask the Fung Clan to give us a position in the Nantong Tonglv project? Or rather, could you ask them to allow us to tender for a position?” Gwen's brows formed the Chinese pictogram for 'eight'. “All the major Clans have a stake in the project,” Jinwei explained. “Either in exploration, subjugation, security or infrastructure. As a state venture, Nantong is exceedingly safe and especially lucrative, so much that it's now called the ‘Southern Miracle’. The word from one of our sources says that it’s going to be one of the most profitable infrastructural projects within a decade, and you're somehow involved in all its sudden transformation.” Venture capitalism, Gwen snorted. When credit-derivative economics attended Tonglv's 19th-century shipping operations, it's only natural there's going to be boatloads of crystals to be made. “… But so far we’ve been kept out of every possible avenue. Members of our Clan can’t even take up positions as guards for the construction teams.” Must be Dai, Gwen discerned. Or perhaps his father, Shen. The Fungs knew that she had 'beef' with the Huashan Sword Mages. Assuming she was right, was Patriarch Shen trying to do her a solid? No, that kind of thinking was foolish. In business, one acted only on principles of leverage and benefit, privileging one's interest. Rather than rebuking Shen Fung, it would be easier to allow Huashan into the second-stage expansion. “Senior Jinwei says the Clan is short on funds,” Lulan added timidly. “They need crystals and CCs to rebuild the mount’s infrastructure, as well as hire experts to decipher the Clan’s Magic for the IMS Spell List. A Clan attempting to modernise? Gwen studied Jinwei's reaction. The young man seemed amiable enough, though as usual, the more harmless a rival appeared, the more sceptical she felt. “What makes you think Lulu can’t make it on her own?” “The fact that you put out a 200 CC notice requesting for an incantational algorithm to replicate the Piercing-Heart Technique?” Okay, there is that, Gwen grumbled. “So, you’re pawning your Clan’s magic, is that it?” “As a peace offering, yes. Of course, since I took the Quest, I assume you’ll be paying the CCs.” Gwen scoffed. Lulan pulled at her sleeve like a kitten begging for treats. Gwen sighed. “Very well, Mr Li, what do you propose?” “I’ve brought the scrolls for the Heart-Piercing Sword, and I’ll demonstrate and teach Lulu the magic in a Cog-Chamber. If you can provide a Magister capable of dismantling or reconstituting the spell, we’re willing to share the spell with outsiders under the condition that we publish as a co-contributor and receive credit for the new spell.” Which means they can teach it to their Clan members without paying CCs, Gwen mulled over the Sword Mage’s offer. As for Magisters skilled in deconstructing magic, she had Wen, Walken, possibly Petra, and other human resources to call on. That said, she wouldn't be sharing her limited knowledge of physics with the Sword Mage Clan. What Lulu and Lulu alone would be firing from the Heart-Piercing Sword spell would remain her very own Signature Spell. Rationally speaking, Li's barter was acceptable. With Tonglv's Stage 1 nearing completion, there's plenty of pie left. “And in addition to that, you’ll occupy a competitor’s slot, help her in the June try-outs, and bow out if you’re chosen instead of herself?” “Assuming our Nantong predicament is resolved by then, of course.” He's dual-wielding a stick and a carrot, Gwen meditated while giving the man the evil eye. “Lulu? Kusu?” The siblings had nothing to say; it wasn’t as though they had sway with the Fungs. “Deal.” Gwen extended a hand. “Help Lulu, and everyone wins. Stab her in the back, and your Clan becomes penniless, and you're food for Caliban.”

“Of course, Patriarch. I’d love to attend.” Gwen tore herself from her note laden table. Her workspace was starting to resemble Petra's in more ways than one. Herself, Dai and Ken had been invited to attend the Tonglv Canal's first major milestone. Just the thought of it quickened her blood. A single transmuted wall, a hundred meters deep and a quarter-kilometre wide, stood between the waterway and the South China Sea. After the ribbon-cutting, a steady stream of water would gush into the channel, connecting it to the Yangtze River, after which a torrent of HDMs would swell with the tide, overflowing Nantong's coffers. Grains, vegetables, stone, steel, lumber, and livestock from the Su-Hang tableland would enjoy an unimpeded passage to the South China Sea, bypassing the inundated Port of Shanghai, finally relieving Shanghai's inundated waterways. She quickly fired Richard and the others a Message, only to recall that they were already on the way to Nantong. As principle contributors to the eradication of Demi-human infestations in the region, Richard’s party had a place of honour among the adventurers and mercenaries, away from the big-wigs. Instead, her replacement companions would be Ruì, Effi and Terence, all of whom had been invited by Dai. Thus attired in the porcelain blue attire her grandmother had gifted her, she stepped into the limousine with Dai and the others, cautioning her NoM companions about the displacement sickness that came with long-distance Teleportation. “Senior Bai, Gwen's on the Vid-cast!” Bai halted his sparring match when one of the Fudan DC members came running into the gymnasium, waving his arms like a madman. “Our Flower of Fudan is on CCVC-1!” he hollered. "Someone change the Divi-stream!" CCVC-1 was the official channel for state broadcasts. It ran a 24-hour news service, looping the latest incursions, attacks, victories and conquests made by the CCP. “I am turning it up!” Someone else fired off a glyph at the overhanging Vid-caster. In the next moment, all eyes gathered on the projection, searching for the familiar silhouette of their leggy mascot. (Music Plays) (The CCVC-1 LOGO zooms out to reveal a reporter standing atop the canal, below which hundreds of thousands of officials and local elites thronged shoulder to shoulder.) **Zhuli Wei** … therefore, the Tonglv Committee has chosen today, the 22nd of April, as the auspicious day to ‘break earth’ and inaugurate the canal. Though initially a troubled project attracting criticism from the Central Bureau for its wastefulness, recent administrative changes have brought new life to the Tonglv Project, now designated one of the most successful government infrastructural projects in a decade, receiving not just attention from the District’s Office, but from Central as well - Lu Joan reports. (The picture cuts to another reporter wearing a formal cocktail dress.) **Joan Lu** Thank you, Zhuli, as you can see behind me, the Big Three responsible for the completion of the Canal’s main transit artery are now making their way onto the stage for the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Leading them is Secretary Shen Fung of the Nantong Fung Clan, a loyal and local member of the Party who has laboured since two decades ago to integrate the Nantong Frontier into Greater Shanghai Metropolitan Region. (The reporter approaches Shen Fung) Good afternoon, Secretary Fung, how do you feel about your achievement? **Shen Fung** To say that I feel proud would be an understatement. This project is my child. To ensure its success, I have scoured every resource from Nantong. I want to say I deserve the credit, but that is not true. The real honour goes to the people and the Party! Personally, I would like to thank our decision makers from Central for supporting my vision and the dreams of Nantong's workers. Likewise, I am grateful to our craftsmen, both NoMs and Mages, who have laboured day and night for the better part of six years to ensure that today, our earth-breaking ceremony is not a dream, but a reality. The prosperity of Tonglv is the prosperity of the people! **Joan Lu** Well said, Secretary Fung. (Shen Fung leaves to join a group of local power brokers - but not before he directs Joan's attention to a group of young people, at the head of which is his son, Dai Fung.) Next, we have a leader who is familiar to many of us - the recently promoted Chairman Tu Guangshao of the Shanghai Economic Exchange. Chairman Tu of the Greater Regional Economics Committee has been instrumental in reforming the financial operations of the Tonglv project. Chairman, how do you feel about this day?” **Guangshao Tu** Joan, good to see you again. (Tu bows toward the audience) To our viewers at home, Tonglv is a sea-change, not only for Nantong but for China itself. Though I cannot reveal too much, this project and its administrative practices will go down in history as the beginning of China’s economic rebirth. Soon, we will return to being the 'middle-nation' of the human world. In the decades to come, all of us, and all of you, whether in the Districts, in Xian, Beijing or Shanghai or the Frontiers, will feel the positive impact of our nation's economic growth. I am truly happy to have served Mao's teachings and the People's Republic! **Joan Lu** Thank you for your service. Chairman Tu. **Guangshao Tu** Chen Quin! Stop dawdling! Get over here! **Joan Lu** Next, we have Magister Chen Quin, formerly of Jianqiao University. Within the triumvirate, Magister Chen represents the Overseer Committee. Thanks to his efforts, corruption and nepotism have had nowhere to hide. Magister, what do you foresee for the future of Tonglv Canal? **Quin Chen** A good question. Tonglv will, in the next five years, overtake Shanghai's Port Authority in the volume of goods exported from the Su-Hang region. Like comrade Tu ha stated, our international port shall be the most progressive ventures the Party has ever embarked. For the people of Nantong, this region will become a new industrial centre for processing, packing and shipping. Naturally, this means that we - the Overseer Committee from Central, will be keeping a close eye on matters! **Joan Lu** Excellent, Magister Chen. Can you introduce us to some of your proteges? (The Lumen-Recorder dutifully pans toward the group of young men and women the Big Three had been conversing with.) **Quin Chen** Of course, young people are the future of our nation. James! Bring Dai, Ken and Gwen over. (One of the men, an older gentleman, hesitates. Though placed on the spot, he follows through with Chen’s demands.) **Joan Lu** You’re Professor James Ma from Fudan University! **James Ma** I am pleased and honoured to be here. **Joan Lu** Has the famous rivalry between Fudan and Jianqiao ceased? Are you and Magister Chen working together? What are your thoughts on the Canal? **James Ma** … No, and yes. I am afraid the Canal's importance supersedes any academic rivalry. This project is a boon for both Mages and NoMs. The number of jobs it will bring will completely transform this region; it would not be unrealistic to say that millions of people, our non-magical workers especially, will now be employed in one capacity or another- (Ma continues to speak about the boons of the Canal for the local NoM population. Joan can barely get a word in.) **Quin Chen** Perhaps it's best to hear it straight from the source. Young Dai, the son of Secretary Fung, has been instrumental in Tonglv’s progress. He has brought in innumerable investors with that silvery tongue of his. (The Lumen-recorder quickly moves toward the group of young people. A few of them look entirely at ease, while a few others appear mortified. The shot pauses on Dai, then subtly zoomed out as to capture a breathtakingly beautiful young woman beside the Fung heir.) **Joan Lu** Mister Fung, can you tell us more about your involvement in all of this. (Dai glances at the girl beside him, then begins to speak. Curiously, the beauty remains stoic.) **Dai Fung** Chairman Tu and Magister Chen are too kind. To say that I am instrumental in any of this would be a joke. If anything, we should thank the people, the Secretaries who have worked tirelessly to make this possible, not to mention the Party itself. Just being here fills me with a feeling of ardour and worship for the New China my generation will inherit. As for the details of the operation, Miss Song here is the one you should be interviewing. (Finally receiving a cue, the Mage operating the Lumen-Recorder zooms into the girl’s face. The girl’s eyes widen slightly, then she swallows. Her lips part, but no words emerge. Though the shot is flawlessly aesthetic, she appears speechless.) **Joan Lu** Miss Song? **Dai Fung** Gwen Song. **Joan Lu** Miss Gwen Song, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Joan Lu, Central-Chinese Vid-Cast One. **Gwen Song** … **Dai Fung** Please don't mind her, Gwen is feeling shy because of the Lumen-recorders. Mark my words though, you will be seeing and hearing plenty more of her from now on. This young lady is a staple member of Fudan’s IIUC team. This year, they’re going international! (The Lumen-recorder performs a one over of the girl, scanning her from her wind-tossed hair to her gleaming Mary-Janes.) **Dai Fung** Earlier, my father and the others have been discussing how we should be cutting the ribbon, though I think we have just the omen. Gwen, can we borrow your Kirin? **Joan Lu** A Kirin! **Dai Fung** Indeed! Gwen is famous around Fudan and has caused quite a stir when she returned from Huangshan with a blessing that surprised us all. Her Uncle, you should know, is the Hero of the Northern Front, the Ash Bringer! This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. **Joan Lu** A Kirin AND the niece of a national hero! Miss Song, we shall be keeping a close eye on your progress from now on! (The girl flashes a gentle smile before turning to her companion.) **Gwen Song** I am doing what now? **Dai Fung** You said it was fine. **Gwen Song** I never sai- You never said I was going to be on T- on Vid-cast! (The Lumen-Recorder quickly pans away, returning to the stage where the ceremony is about to begin.) “There’s Ariel!” “Oooh! Lord Kirin!” On the gigantic Vid-Caster, Bai and the members of Fudan’s Duelling Club giddily watched as Ariel, resplendent and fully fluffed, shot a streak of cobalt-lightning toward a giant ribbon tying together the final floodgates of Tonglv Canal’s seawall. Slowly, still held aloft by currents of air, the two-storey ribbons fell apart to the sound of thunderous applause filling the valley. Below the noble visage of Gwen's Kirin, an enormous, strategic-class Transmutation glyph blazed, ejecting two rods of ferro-concrete each the size of a small skyscraper, returning their mass back into the Elemental Plane of Earth. There was a sound of rumbling, then a sudden ratcheting of pressure and moisture. A taste of salt filled the air as all sound save the thundering chunder of the ocean was drowned out. Twin plumes of white water shot into the newly completed Tonglv Canal, a million-million litres of blue-green sea rushed into the basin, painting the grey-concrete black. Vapour from the crashing waterfall filled the atmosphere, kept away from the VIP personnel standing upon the ceremonial platform, drenching the observing crowd further away. A roaring cheer echoed across the churning valley. For those soaked to the bone, the wetness was a benediction. The people of Nantong had awaited this baptism for far too long. To them, the wet wasn’t just so much brine; what Tonglv signified was the floodgates of progress; its spillage the water of life. After about a minute of silent awe, one of the Fudan DC members turned to the others. “How about our princess, huh?” “I love the way she stared into the Vid-Caster not knowing what to do.” “Haha, our Worm-Handler can’t handle Lumen-recorders.” “Maybe that’s her weakness. I’ll bring one next time we duel.” “Hahaha…” Gwen slipped out of her dress, then still wearing her bra and panties, freefell into her bed. Her brain attempted for the N-th time to catch up with the events of the day, yet still somehow failed to process the chaos that followed. First, Dai had asked her if using Ariel to perform an auspicious, ‘good luck’ ceremony to bring fair tidings and good optics was a good idea. Then suddenly, while she was daydreaming about her Chakram and still weighing the pros and cons of Ariel's public appearance, the reporter started firing off questions. Her immediate reaction was to explode with a combo-chain of pointless Communist clichés, but thankfully her brain was working fast enough to seize her glib tongue and shove it back down her throat. Platitudes? New China? The Party? The Will of the Workers? Praise Chairman Mao? Holy shit! Are these guys still stuck in the Cultural Revolution? 'There will be no loyalty, except loyalty towards the Party. There will be no love, except the love of Chairman Mao?' More importantly, was she willing to paint herself in their colour? It was too dangerous! Looking like a deer caught in the path of a Disintegrate was far better than having the Pudong Tower and the Britannic Mageocracy doubt her integrity in the future. If she were to start ass-kissing the CCP and pass out little-red books on national television, she might as well start demanding a position in the Inner Party now. But while she looked on dumbly, Dai ran his mouth to 'save' her. After that, they had walked onto the ceremony stage, where ten-thousand lumen-globes attached to recorders blitzed her until she was blind. Moreover, Patriarch Fung, Chairman Tu and Magister Chen dragged her onstage again for red carpet shots. But that wasn’t the end of it, Dai and herself were requested by what she could only assume to be the propaganda corps to stand beside the churning levy with an adrift Ariel for more lumen-pics. When she attempted to dilute the attention by including Ruì and her other co-workers, her NoM companions fled the scene. Even after all was over and done, there remained the after-party back at the Fung building. There, as a result of her exposure, her status as an uncooperative guest had suddenly transformed into that of an unbidden co-host. Thus accosted on all sides by hungry-looking men, her hyper-vigilance against potential molesters had stretched her stress-levels to a breaking point. It was almost midnight when she finally goaded Dai into sending her back, exhausted and haggard, stumbling home to fall into a dreamless slumber. “There she is!” “Shaa! Shaa!” “Mao! WHAT IS THAT?!” At Fudan’s Guoding St entrance, a dog-pack had found their prey. A dozen lumen-globes fired their payload at the surprised maiden wearing her Friday casuals, a youthful combo combining a denim mini-skirt and a quarter-length blouse. When the paparazzi gang had burst from the street corner and accosted her, Fudan's infamous Worm Handler reflexively erected a Shield. Caliban meanwhile, leapt in-between its Master and the men with large, pipe-like recording instruments, letting loose a threatening growl. Unfazed and hardened by years of reporting for the Front, a veteran paparazzo strafed to one side to catch a close-up side-profile of his next paycheck. "SHAAA!" A second later, he found himself on the floor, staring straight up at the sky with a Mongolian Death Worm sitting on his chest. “Arrrrgh!” the man screamed while Caliban drooled all over his face, tentacles flailing this way and that. “Cali, back!” the girl called out in a blind panic, un-summoning her fiend. A dozen cameras shifted between her panicked expression and the man on the floor, who by now had taken up his best impression of a critically injured international soccer player grazed on the shoulder by a damp feather. Confused by the exhibition but seizing the opportunity, the pack's quarry ran for the gate, only to find that at least half of the men had anticipated her intent. From the speed of their movements, she gauged these were Mages and that there was no escaping them. Ten thousand llamas raced through her mindscape as she sought for a way to escape her predicament. It was all very confusing to her, whose only experience with the media was a paid interview on the Sunday Telegraph promoting 'Women in Finance'. Why Magical Reporters? She cursed the tabloid press. Was the country so at ease that they could spare mystic personnel for the back pages?! She couldn’t Dimension Door into the university, and she couldn’t fly, which left her with one option. “Jump!” Pulling on her skirt, she ran for the wall then leapt over the barrier, careful as to avoid the wards. As a student, she should be safe, though the reporters would have to enter through the gate and there, the campus guards would prevent their entry. When she landed, it was in a pile of filthy, wet leaves the gardener had piled up against the wall. Incidentally, she was wearing a white blouse. The girl sighed, closed her eyes for a moment to control her raging Essence, then materialised her laundry Cube. Using the device while attired ensured that her clothes never entirely dried out and that she would have to endure a horrid clamminess for several hours. 'Pa! Pa! Pa!' Lumen bulbs flashed. She looked up. The fucking reporters had Levitate. **Auspicious Kirin seals the deal in Tonglv** 25th July 2004 **The Shanghai Times** **A surprise appearance by a Kirin at the Tonglv Opening Ceremony shocked spectators and wowed officials on Thursday, marking the opening date with an auspicious and fortuitous conclusion.** The soon to be operating Tonglv Canal will begin with a daily load of forty to sixty ships, reaching 1,500,000 Tons of cargo traversed per twenty-four hours while at capacity. At present, initial estimates show that the canal will generate 33,200,000 HDMs in its first two years as Tonglv's stage 1 construction reaches its conclusion. The canal's stage 2, involving the expansion of the Nantong Industrial Region, will see another, 3,320 km² of infrastructural development with an estimated extension cost of 9,730,000 HDMs over three years. Once completed, the Nantong-Tonglv region will form the largest industrial-economic bloke outside of Shanghai itself, second only to the Guangdong peninsula. By 2008, the Central Economics Committee has estimated the total economic benefit generated by the project to exceed 1.2 billion HDMs. "By the end of 2004, the number of jobs for magical personnel will exceed, 20,000. By the completion of stage 2, we fully expect 50,000 full-time jobs to materialise for the Canal's non-magical workers, with an additional 120,000 certification-required auxiliary positions anticipated, as well as countless seasonal positions for labourers, up to half a million," Professor James Ma from Fudan University has stated. **More on Page 4.** **Guan-er-dai goes Berserk: IIUC Contestant Assaults photographer in brazen attack** 26th April 2004 **Cai Lin : Daily Shanghai** **New socialite darling Gwen Song: niece to the Hero of the Northern Front, Jun Song, allegedly attacked a newspaper reporter shortly after arriving at Fudan University’s Gouding Road entrance, according to eye-witness reports.** Miss Song, a second-year student at Fudan University, is the infamous Void Mage Shanghai's second-oldest tertiary institution has been rearing for the IUCC face off against their academic rivals both local and overseas. Famous for her prodigious parallel cultivation of five Schools of Magic and her dual-element of Void and Lightning, the attention-seeking sorceress was seen attending the Tonglv Canal opening ceremony in the company of Dai Fung and was revealed to be personally acquainted with the Tonglv Big Three. Jeffery Liu, a news reporter of 32 years of age, stated that he approached Miss Song with other reporters to take lumen-pics of her. “I took a few… and as I walked to the side, giving her plenty of space, her Familiar charged me, ripped my shirt, then tripped me,” he said after the alleged incident. "As her monster did this, I fell over. I fell to the ground," Liu stated. “I bruised my spine. The monster could have killed me at any time. I was fighting for my life.” "At no stage did I touch her or speak with her." Miss Song has offered no comments for the incident, but her Familiar was quoted declaring “Shaaa! Shaaa!” Which according to other students interviewed by Daily Shanghai, inferred that it was ready to kill. Jeffrey Liu has spoken with Shanghai Municipal police about the incident later Friday but said he would not make a formal complaint about the matter. “Are you kidding me? If I snitched on the granddaughter of Secretary Song, ten heads wouldn’t be enough to chop!” “Miss Song may be beautiful, influential and talented, but she represents the very symptom of what's wrong with our society,” an anonymous source was quoted as saying. “She thinks she’s better than us; she thinks she's untouchable.” Fudan University's admissions office has declined to comment. ‘Smack!’ Dean Luo whacked his prized student across the head with a rolled-up piece of newspaper. On the cover was two images of Gwen, her white legs akimbo, first standing over an agonised reporter with Caliban over his chest, then with her fleeing the scene in a compromising position. On page four there was another picture of her looking peevish while wearing a wet blouse. “Seriously?” the Dean wanted to break something. Maybe taking the chair and throwing it out the window would make him feel better. “After all we did - after everything I've done! Why did this happen? Do you hate me, Miss Song? Is this payback for Walken?” “It’s not my intention!” Gwen spluttered. “They caught me by surprise! I never intended to harm the man!” “I know that!” Luo growled. “They know that! BUT THE WORLD DOESN’T KNOW THAT!” “Can I sue them or something? For defamation? I've got crystals. A lot of crystals...” “It's a LITTLE LATE for that, Miss Song! What did your grandfather say?” “To leave it alone…” Gwen sulked. Guo had been blissfully unaware at work, happy over the fact that his granddaughter was on the Vid-cast for such an important Party ceremony when the cleaner, Zao, walked in with the tabloids clutched under one arm. Guo had made a habit of always speaking to the workers, and that was when he saw a deeply disconcerting sight on the front page of a news rag famous for its yellow journalism. The resultant fallout had been spectacular, but the Chairman of the Confidential Communications Committee fought down his hypertension, knowing better than to pick at an open sore. The tabloids were an arm of the state's Censorship Bureau. Usually, it was harmless entertainment. When needed - it became a scalpel for slashing defacing dissidents. Towering over an indignant Gwen, the likewise informed Dean rested his face between his meaty palms. “You’re grounded.” “What?” Gwen performed a double-take. G-grounded? What was she, a ten-year-old? “They’re not going to let this go, so you’re grounded. Until this thing blows over, you’re going to stay here, in Fudan. I’ll tell the maids to clear out one of the international guest houses for you. Petra can come and stay as well if you feel you'll be lonely. I honestly believe she would prefer living a spit's distance from Heilong Laboratory. Until the comp, focus on your studies and finish up your spell list. I’ve got far too much riding on your IIUC right now. I can’t afford to have you running around Consuming reporters.” “I didn’t hurt him!” Gwen screeched. “O come on, how’s that fair? I need to work!” The Dean remained adamant. Now committed, he approached the girl pleadingly and for a moment, wondered if taking a knee would make his case more convincing. "Gwen," he solicited her empathy. “Until the IIUC starts, for both of our sakes, I need you to be picture perfect and your reputation unsullied. For your work, I’ll get Birch to go set up a short-range Teleportation Circle at Guoding Road. So can you please, PLEASE stay out of trouble? Is it so hard to stay focused on your training for four months?” Gwen grew red as a beet, swallowing the ‘You’re not my Dad!’ sentiment simmering at her throat. She owed the Dean this much at least. "Okay." She relented, "I still have my birthday though. It's going to be big, or so Dai tells me. Everyone is going to be there, including the Big Three..." The Dean looked as though he was passing a kidney stone. "How about..." Gwen felt she should probably give the Dean a hug. "... I give you an invitation?"

Spring erupted, emerald and wet as a whistle as Gwen’s second summer in Shanghai cast the domed city into a heat haze, wilting the greenery. Cloistered by the university’s shaded lanes, youths in the May of their lives, lithe-limbed and slick with sweat, came and went, the gossamer fabrics of their shirts and dresses clinging to their skin. Gwen Song, infamous Worm Handler and now man-handler of reporters, sat on a bench with her white legs crossed, Kirin to one side and cosmic horror on the other, taking a breather. Earlier, after so long, she had received a Message from Mayuree, stating that matters at home forbade her from travelling abroad. The Tyrant, Mayuree’s Message had read, was wreaking havoc around Yangon, meaning all of her formidable powers of Divination were required to avert the worst of what disasters their developing nation-state must now endure. “Sister Maymyint is going to attend in my stead,” Mayuree’s sweet voice had chirped happily, devoid of any disappointment. “I’ve prepared a wonderful present for you: look forward to it!” Gwen exhaled, her body languished and beaten. It wasn’t so much that she was sad Mayuree couldn’t attend her birthday party. It was more so that her friend had been such a constant companion of her uni-life that in her absence, something felt amiss, like sliced salmon without wasabi. With Yue and Evee, it was at least her choice. With Mia, it was as though she'd been suddenly uprooted. That all three were absent and unavailable, not even on her LRM Message device made her all the more upset; especially Evee, who was away on fieldwork. As for Yue, Gunther had said that Alesia took her on exchange to New Zealand so that her friend could Fireball enemies other than Mermen. "Is there something you want for your birthday?" Gunther had asked for both himself and his sister-in-craft. Gwen declined, informing her brother-in-craft that he had already given her too much, especially that family insignia ring. Gunther had laughed, informing her it was no big deal, which made her all the more guilty. They had prepared a gift, he hinted, but it was with Alesia. Conversely, the month spent within the confines of Fudan had been fruitful. At the very least, a high-distinction average was assured. Regarding the incident, Walken inferred that he felt forces unseen were testing her. Her grandfather had said more or less the same thing, though his exact advice was to ignore it altogether because 'the lotus is unsullied by the mud', which Gwen took to mean she was 'sludge proof' so long as she held value. Not wasting the extra time afforded by her confinement, she and Magister Lee had finished her new spell. They had furthermore lodged the blueprint into the Tower’s Spell Bank, marked 'Not for Exchange' but to future proof copy-right claims. The process had been tedious, involving the Dean, Magister Lee and a drop of her blood, but when all was said and done, Gwen held the certification in her hand and felt the unique joy of creation. **Void Chakram** Evocation-Conjuration (4) Casting Time: 14 Major, 13 Minor Incantation Range: Far Components: Somatic, Verbal Duration: Instant, Persistent _This unique Void-spell creates a ring of Void-matter which rotates to form a flat disk with a deadly cutting edge,_ _maximising the efficiency of the expended vitality._ _Future revisions may include Seeking, Channelling, Echoing and other additional effects._ On the footnote of the entry was the tab ‘author’ with her name ‘Gwen Song’, together with a publication date, the institution and the certifier. Conversely, Lulan’s Panzerschreck wasn't yet ready, though Jinwei, Magister Walken and Kusu were hard at work modifying the magic. "Eeee!" Ariel rolled its furry body over her thighs, resting its head on her chest. Immediately, the heat grew insufferable. How was it that Shanghai was so bloody humid?! She had half a mind to get her clothes enchanted with cooling and drying Glyphs! Still, heat or otherwise, her reprieve was at an end. For the next eight hours, she would cease to be herself. “Why do I feel like I am getting married,” Gwen sceptically remarked while a stylist straightened out her hair and another thickened her lashes. For the last hour, she had sat in the ready room of the Four Seasons' grand ballroom, attended by half a dozen maids chipping away at her body. In all honesty, it was what she had expected. Leaving her birthday celebration to Dai had been a classic manifestation of her masochism, and now she was asphyxiating under an avalanche of bothersome details. At first, they had planned for a hundred odd guests, mostly people Gwen knew or had known through the course of her stay in Shanghai. In the first draft, Gwen’s immediate friends and family would attend. Babulya, grandfather, uncle Jun, her father and his new wife, now heavily pregnant, as well as her brother. She had even invited Mai and her brother’s DC Captain, Kelvin Ma. After the Tonglv episode, the Nantong Fungs decided to make an appearance, bringing with them Patriarch Shen and an entourage that included his wife, his relatives and the young woman Gwen had saved from the Water Ghost’s den, Lihong. A week later, they received the coup-de-grace. By mid-May, the news of Ayxin's appearance had made the rounds through high society. Somehow, Gwen's birthday bash was now an official gathering attended by Shanghai’s big-wigs, involving the Tonglv Big Three, Ayxin the Dragon-princess, Wang Enterprises, the leading mistress of the House of M, a whole host of notable names and worthy titles, as well as the children attached to the city's movers and shakers. Her eighteenth, as it were, was now no more than a convenient excuse for the men and women of wealth and weight to meet and greet. Excluding herself, many marriages of convenience and politics would emerge by the night’s end, blessed by a Kirin and a Dragon. As for Gwen herself, she wasn’t allowed to mingle until the moment was ripe. While her friends ate and drank like kings and queens outside, she was locked up inside the ready room, watching the clock make its ponderous circles while the maids modified every inch of her existence. "Er... no padding," Gwen declined the generous offer. Worst of all, she couldn't choose her dress. For a birthday girl, she should arguably be wearing red. When Gwen saw the selection of dresses Dai had recommended, all she saw were faux wedding outfits. After a tart exchange with Dai, Magus Maymaruya brought the dress she would be wearing. It was Mayuree’s gift. Mia’s selection wasn’t quite the flesh-peddling, skin-coloured mini-dress Qīn had made her wear, though it wasn’t much better stylistically speaking. The dress Mayuree had picked out was a gem-encrusted gown in salmon pink, sleeveless and studded with pearls. “Now that's what I call impressive apparel.” Dai smacked his lips, swallowing at the sight of her white arms peeking in and out of the diaphanous shawl. “Just one of those South Sea pink pearls is worth a dozen HDMs. The whole outfit? Probably close to five or six thousand.” “Why?” Gwen moved her legs, struggling against the thirty centimetres of freedom the dress’ fishtail setting allowed. The damn thing was absurdly heavy. Had she been any less of an ox, she would have had to buff herself with Enhance Strength and Fortitude. "To flaunt of course.” Dai smirked. “Those are Creature Cores, you know. You're wearing the lifetime income of a low-level official.” She wanted to say that wearing the remains of ten-thousand oysters was revolting, but the dress was Mayuree’s heartfelt gift, delivered from her homeland. Only by wearing it happily and without complaint could she send Mayuree sparkling lumen-recordings. “Miss,” one of her assistants interrupted her daydreaming from below. Thanks to her four-inch heels, the dress was hoisted an inch above the floor. With her piled hair, she was almost two meters tall. “You have ten minutes.” Gwen eyed the door. It was time to put on a face to meet the faces that you meet. Dragons, as a race, were not the sort to feel torn. An act was right because a Dragon had performed it, and because one of their kind had performed it, the results, therefore, must be right. Only a Dragon had the right to contest another Dragon. When she resided on the Mount, Ayxin was second only to Ruxin, who was the oldest. When Ruxin left to claim a lair of his own, Ayxin became the penultimate being on the Mount. When Golos erred, she punished him. When Ryxi failed some task, she berated him. As her father had never harshly rebuked Ayxin, she could only presume her wisdom preeminent. But coming down to the mortal world, meeting Jun and then the girl, she felt the tumorous growth of doubt swelling under her scales, filling her with disquiet. If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. Her progenitor had plans for the girl, or more accurately, the girl featured strongly in whatever future the Yinglong had foreseen. Though hardly possessing the God-like wisdom of her immortal father, Ayxin couldn’t help but feel a chill whenever the girl inched forward in her progress, sensing that somehow, the calamity of which her father spoke of wasn’t so much one for the humans, but for the Yinglong as well, and maybe even Ayxin and her lover. Arguably then, Ayxin should keep away from the calamitous sorceress. But when Ayxin wilfully bonded with Jun, a relative to the girl and her caretaker, the Yinglong had remained silent. This contradiction was the source of her anxiety. As the faithful ‘vessel’ of her father's will in the material world, her life outside the mountain peaks of the Yinglong's five-taloned palm was most unnerving. “Ayxin?” Jun carefully passed her a flute of bubbling, fermented grape-vinegar. Below their raised dais was a multitude of human officials, each wanting a word or sign from the Princess of Huangshan. It was a scene not unfamiliar to Ayxin, who centuries ago, had seen the same clichéd deference and worship even as a girl-child. Perhaps in another nation, she would be less conspicuous and visible, but here, among these descendants of the Yellow Emperor, she was a goddess. For the folk of the yellow river, the worship of the Shenlong, the Yinglong and the Dragon-kind were engraved into their bones, carved into the nation’s lore. Even their most common idioms and Confucian psalms drew inspiration from her kith and kin. A sudden blast of music filled the hall. The Master of Ceremonies, an NoM with a glib tongue and a sculpted, flawless mien, announced the entrance of the calamity into their midst. The crowd turned as one. Ayxin exhaled. At long last, she could rest. "Miss Gwen SONG!" Inching forward, Gwen recalled an old 80’s show called Wrestle-Mania which used to be on television. The fighting had made no sense, and the storylines were convoluted, but what did impress was the increasingly more elaborate entrances taken by the wrestlers every other episode. Never had she conceived that her childhood fantasy would come true in such a spectacular fashion; that one day - she would be a woman whose entrance warranted BGM. Smoke, exploding confetti, illusory flames and an orchestra accompanied her arrival, attired in a pink-pearl wonder. On stage, an MC accounted for her presence as though she would run onto the dais, shoulder-barge Dai, then slam him against the ropes before gutter-stomping his face to the ground to the cheer of ten thousand spectators. To Gwen's crystal-counting eyes, the whole setup was an exercise in excess. A giant, golden ‘Eighteen’ in Chinese pictograms floated across the high ceiling of the Grand Ballroom, completely negating the faux 1920s colonial Shanghai decor, while hundreds of guests, most of whom couldn’t give two shits about her, cheered half-heartedly, waiting for the show to be over. Quickly, she skittered, inches at a time, for the embrace of her family and friends. Babulya was wiping away a tear of joy. Guo looked festive and pissed in equal measure. Her uncle stood next to a smiling Dragon-vessel. Her father and her step-mother were nowhere to be seen. Her mother had declined to attend. Tao and Mina, and their parents clapped alongside her grandmother, besides which stood Richard, Petra, Lulu and Mina, her classmates and workmates. Her Instructors, all of them, including Walken, stood awkwardly, joining the circle of applause. And finally, Dai and the Nantong power-brokers gave their public benedictions before retreated to a private corner. What then followed was an hour-long gifting ceremony, followed by another hour of lumen-pics. The reporters, Gwen noted, were perfect gentlemen when in the presence of the Secretaries. Grinning and bearing it all, her only solace was that she had stuffed herself prior. Should the tabloids obtain a picture of her in a 5000 HDM dress, holding multiple pheasant drumsticks in each hand, she would run afoul of punishing headlines. With the main event over, Gwen had half-a-mind to tear the bottom of her dress to let her legs breathe. Despite escaping to the balcony, she found no solace in the damp humidity of the hotel’s sky garden, but at least she could avoid the cacophony of men and women peddling politics. Inside, Richard had gathered a little following of his own, consisting of young ladies; likewise, Petra's unbidden escorts had cornered her for pictures. Unseen, the Li siblings were off trying to load up on the mana-rich banquet, while the Wang siblings were with their father, being passed around the room like chattel at a flea market. After giving Gwen a thick red envelope full of currency cards, her grandparents had likewise left to mingle politely with Gwen's betters. As for the principal culprit of her party, Mister Dai Fung, the young man was having the time of his life beside his well-spoken father, evidently born and bred for statesmanship. In a way, Gwen was glad that Dai’s mislead celebration had rectified her myopia regarding her love-struck buffoon. Ultimately, she rationalised, Dai really was his father’s son. Even though they worked together and the young man’s efforts at love were incompetent, he was clearly in his element here, far better than she could ever be. As for herself, it was only by sending forth Ariel and warding herself with Caliban that she could escape to the balcony to elude the chicken noises crowding her head. But she wasn't alone for long. “Miss Song,” came the voice of a woman whose accented syllables had the slightest of lisps. The slender woman wore a one-piece dress in cerulean, punctuated by an enormous pearl fastened at the throat, beneath which a serpentine figure tantalised the viewer. “I hope I am not intruding.” Gwen turned politely, recognising the face from the gift-giving ceremony. Caliban slithered aside. The eldest of the House of M approached. “I am Maymyint - Mayuree is my little sister.” “We met earlier; it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Maymyint. Thank you for your extravagant gift.” The two women gingerly shook. “Do you like the dress? Mia picked it out herself.” “It’s lovely.” Gwen touched a hand to her pearl-plated bodice. “She shouldn’t have, its far too precious for the likes of me.” “Think nothing of it; she speaks of you daily.” “How is Mia?” “Homesick.” Maymyint smiled. Gwen noticed her mouth was overlarge and predatory. “While in her homeland, I may add. She misses you.” “I miss her too,” Gwen declared wistfully. “You may see her sooner than you think.” Maymyint opened her palm to reveal a Storage Ring. “I have another gift for you from our Matriarch. However, it’s best if you hold off opening it until the right time.” Gwen held off her impulsive curiosity. “Please take it,” Maymyint implored. “This is an important moment for Mayuree.” After a moment of hesitation, Gwen plucked the ring from Maymyint’s palm. “Can I ask-” “You will know,” Maymyint replied cryptically. “All I can say is that it has to do with Mayuree’s talent.” “Ah~.” Gwen realised what the woman was selling. She would keep it about her person for now. “I’ll take care of it then. Can you tell me what Mayuree’s doing now?” Maymyint’s smile split from ear to ear. “I have just the thing.” The woman flashed her pearlescent teeth. “I’ve brought some Lumen-pics.” “Ooo.” Gwen cooed. “Let’s see!” “Here.” Maymyint produced a portable lumen-caster, one of the latest models from the States. With a few input glyphs, a picture of Mayuree appeared, dressed in the traditional garb of her people, standing next to an enormous elephant. “How cute!” “You’d think, but they stink.” Maymyint's tone grew mirthful. “Here’s the next one.” Sure enough, there was a picture of Mayuree half-sick with nausea. “Do you have one of the Quay?” Gwen asked, recalling that Magus Maymaruya had waxed sentimentally about the old colonial districts. “Naturally, she and I had coffee and croissants by the Yangon river; it’s a must, you know,” Maymyint explained, swiping through the images. “Mia is such a sweet and gentle girl, so obedient; unlike her brother Marong.” Arm in arm with Jun, Ayxin made the round through the ballroom while her companion politely fended off the guests. She had moved from the dais because she had grown tired of the praises, promises and the stupidity of her moon-eyed worshippers. That and Ayxin figured she should give Gwen her gift in person, ideally away from the prying eyes of the Humans, whose bodies reeked of onions, old soy sauce and greed. Focusing her mind, she sensed the presence of her scale just outside in the sky garden and instructed her two caretakers: the Tower Magisters assigned to her whenever she left the Pudong Special District, to disperse the crowd. The Masters obliged, finding no reason why someone of her position should be denied such a simple request. Gwen was with company, though as Ayxin approached, the two parted amicably. Lowering her head, the woman stood to one side while Ayxin passed. "?" Ayxin paused, causing Jun to fall out of step. She sniffed the air. Not wanting to leave his niece waiting, Jun parted from his companion to join Gwen by the balcony while Ayxin turned to regard the quietly cowed woman, whose long hair hid her face. “You,” Ayxin commanded the slender female. “Look up.” Quivering a little, the eldest of the House of M did as the Dragon-princess asked. A beautiful enough face, Ayxin observed, but cruel and sadistic, full of deception typical of the Humans. There was something else there as well, something familiar to Ayxin, though it was faint, dilute, almost negligible. “Re wux ir di udoka?” Ayxin twisted her fleshy, clumsy tongue to produce the correct Draconic. “Nomeno ir waphic ergriff ekess faestir,” the woman replied inexpertly. Her words were nervous and strained. For the female, the language wasn’t a projection of the soul, but a kind of mimicry, a crude facsimile. But the accent wasn’t what had bothered Ayxin. She took a fistful of the woman’s hair and brought it closer to her face. There was a scent here, a vaguely familiar one. One Ayxin hadn’t sensed in half-a-century, not since their eldest left to found his lair. “Hey! What are you doing!” Gwen's churlish, tactless voice rang across the garden. “That’s my friend’s sister! Leave her alone!” “Qe gethrisja!” Ayxin barked at the thin-blooded peon. The woman formed a prayer with her hands held overhead, fell to her knees, touched her forehead to the cold, damp pavement, then retreated while facing her superior. When Gwen arrived with Jun, her demeanour was catty. “Did you enjoy yourself?” she demanded of the Dragon-kin. Curiously, Ayxin felt a strange sense of comfort. Having someone speak so candidly, even more so than Jun, was refreshing. It was how she had conversed with her brothers at on the Mount, and it was the sort of banter that she sorely missed. “Congratulations on surviving your eighteenth cycle,” Ayxin shot back. “Impressive for a Void Mage. I wish you at least another decade.” “Don’t you know,” the girl riposted, grinning with confidence. “By eating more of your kind, I could live as long as you.” “Or you could die of indigestion.” “Or my appetite could grow calamitous.” The two women sparked, the unstoppable spear meeting the immovable shield. Beside Ayxin, Jun gulped his wine. “Ayxin has a gift for you,” he quickly clarified. “Here.” Ayxin opened her hand to reveal another Storage Ring: the sort used to hold living things in stasis. For the gift, Ayxin had chosen the smallest container permissible. “We got you ginseng,” Jun explained. “It’s only five-hundred years old, but Ryxi raised it.” “Does Ryxi know about this?” Gwen glanced at Ayxin, imagining a howling white serpent. Ayxin shrugged. Even in showing nonchalance she was simply stunning. Ever since she had taken up with Jun, her body had grown less androgynous and far more feminine. Any day now, she imagined, she would be heavy with egg. Just imagining her partner cradling a child-sized egg, singing it lullabies was enough to put her in a good mood. “Thank you.” Jun’s niece took the ring with both hands, then bowed earnestly for the gift. “It’s a lively one,” Jun warned her. “It’ll make a run for it at the first opportunity, so make sure you’re on guard. Don’t take more than a few slices at a time; you might bloat.” “What?” The girl laughed. “He means your body will explode from the excess vitality,” Ayxin appended Jun's prudishness. “You’re no Dragon-kin, no matter what the Old One has engendered.” The atmosphere once again grew awkward. “We’ll talk later.” Jun realised having the two women in one place was mental torture. Both were arguably Dragon-touched, and with their Draconic-blessings also came pride, possessiveness and a natural tendency to butt heads. “If I am out of Pudong next month, we’ll meet for lunch.” “Sure thing, Uncle Jun.” Gwen gave her uncle her best smile. Turning to her best side, Ayxin gave Jun's niece a wilting glance before leaving with her man, one hand clasped to his waist, leaving Gwen seething and white-knuckled, clutching the ginseng ring. Sensing Gwen's agony, Ayxin’s mood improved immensely as she sauntered away, her irritated demeanour passing as though a summer sunshower. Not only had she given the girl a herb watered with Ryxi’s expulsions, but she had also shown the arrogant whelp that no matter how many mountains of crystals, rare ingredients and magical items she would amass, her heart’s desire would forever belong to Ayxin.

From her make-shift den, the Worm Handler of Fudan emerged. Though paler for the effort, her indoor incarceration throughout the smothering summer was overall for the better, touching on many of her milestones. First and foremost, 'Link Sight', A.K.A Ariel Vision, was now complete. When activated, she could see the world from Ariel's eyes so long as she kept up her concentration, albeit staying stationary was necessary should she wish to avoid sensory nausea. Curiously, while wearing Caliban V.R, what she saw was a greyscale world where the only vibrancy came from people and things that showed signs of life. The more vitality a creature or person possessed, the more vivid their ‘presence’ appeared to Caliban’s ‘senses’. “How curious.” Walken was surprised as well. “Many creatures can hide their visual presence or their mana signature, but few can hide their life force. What's the range?” Unfortunately, even at a dozen meters, Caliban-sight gave her a terrific headache. Perhaps, Gwen thought, if Caliban could acquire a form factor with a powerful sense ability, her Familiar could improve its 'Foodar'. Her second milestone was the improvement of her Void Chakram, which conceptually, took the form of an Aerobie Drone. After several revisions, her superior control over Conjuration took precedence over Evocation, creating a hovering ring that could be commanded to ‘seek’ a target up to two hundred odd meters away. One disadvantage was her low-tier 'seeker' invocation, inferring that when a creature left her line-of-sight, the ring returned to a linear trajectory. When all was said and done, she published the spell into the Spell directory as an addendum to her original. **Void Seeker** Conjuration-Evocation (5) Casting Time: 50 Major, 31 Minor Incantation Range: Far, LoS Components: Somatic, Verbal Duration: Persistent _This spell creates a projectile ring of Void-matter which rotates to form a flat disk with a deadly cutting edge; this entry is for the seeker variation with termination on target loss._ Her next objective was to create multiple 'rings' as to possess both a Void and a Lightning variation of her staple offensive magic - Ball Lightning. When used in conjunction, electricity would stun the target while her Void Aerobies slice and dice, or inversely, her Void spell could chip away scale or hide, opening the target to electrical permeation. And finally, Lulan submitted her Panzerschreck. **Panzerschreck** Evocation-Conjuration (5) Casting Time: 58 Major, 23 Minor Incantation Range: Extreme Components: Somatic, Verbal Duration: Persistent _This original spell is designed with the Huashan Iron Heart Technique as a prerequisite, though sufficiently skilled Conjurers utilising solid Elements may forgo this process. Panzerschreck, also known as Armour Scare, is a Signature Magic created through repurposing Huashan Sword School's ‘Piercing-Heart’ technique. Upon manifestation, this hybrid spell launches a projectile of penetrative solid metal. The shape of the missile (See appendix 1.1 and 1.2) allows for extended displacement._ As a part of their deal, for Huashan's facsimile, Gwen had omitted the appendices which included footnotes for a rotating, four-finned projectile. When finally Lulan test-fired the finned-rods into the distance, Gwen couldn't help but realise that she had subconsciously reproduced an old world junior-science staple - Match-rockets! Lulan was blasting off bloody match-rockets! The DIY aluminium rocketry had been the bane of 90s parents whose apartments lacked internet and whose kids couldn't be nannied by smartphones! Thanks to her chain-smoking father, there had been an endless supply of Red Heads in the house, meaning many a boring summer, Gwen had launched a fusillade onto a neighbour’s roof. The neighbour had then berated Morye when one of these smouldering projectiles lodged in the mesh screen, melting the cheap plastic. Unfortunately, aiming the Piercing Heart Sword remained an art form. Though Gwen had a vague idea of the mathematics involved, it would take more than herself for Lulan to gain the accuracy afforded by computerised artillery trajectories. For now, the inconsistency of Lulan’s firing angle, the weight of her conjured ammunition, and the configuration of her ‘swords’ all impeded repeatable performance metrics. For the near future, they would have to CC up a ballistics mathematician or buff Lulu's aim with “True Strike”, a spell exclusive to Diviners trained in manipulating the threads of probability. In bearing witness to a dozen near-hits, Walken expressed his scepticism of the spell's usefulness. Gwen conversely, assured Lulan that should their magic attain perfection, it would revolutionise low-tier, long-ranged assault spells. Though Lulan was effectively attacking with strangely-shaped swords in the eyes of the others, Gwen knew that if and when they could aim the damn thing, accuracy exceeding several kilometres should be entirely possible, expelling the common perception that only strategic spells had distances exceeding line-of-sight. If she could furthermore secure non-magical staff capable of such calculations, their institutionalised knowledge could be used again and again. Gwen was confident that when the time came, the single-most terrifying reality of the Great War, that strange arithmetic of chance, would befall any enemy foolish enough to siege her city. But as for her immediate endeavour, it was the teamwork meet-n-greet that occupied her afternoon. Gwen found her future companions sitting in a conspicuously large rectangle consisting of sixteen candidates. Most notably, Lu Fung was missing. The Dean cleared his throat. “As you have noticed, some of your nominated peers have chosen to drop out from the second stage,” the Dean explained. “I will not speak of why they have retracted their applications, though I will reiterate that by today’s end, six of you shall be stricken from the roll.” A collective shuffling spread through the crowd. “Good. Now introduce yourselves. Gwen, you start.” At the mention of her name, the others turned to regard the infamous Worm Handler of Fudan, as seen on TV. Gwen stood then courteously bowed from the waist. “Hello, my name is Gwen Song, a Void and Lightning user. I am well versed in Conjuration and Evocation, and my Familiars are Ariel and Caliban. I aspire to be a member of the Offence or Control team. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” Concise and without a hint of ego. The Dean nodded approvingly. For all her blunders outside of the university, Gwen had a knack the others lacked. Lulan next bowed her head. “Lulan Li, Sword Mage. I am an Earthen user and a CQB Combat Mage.” “Richard Huang. Defence or Control. Team Gwen. Conjurer with Abjuration as my secondary School of Magic. I possess a high-tier Water Spirit.” “Hello, I am Lea,” Richard’s Undine, resplendent, semi-transparent and sensuous, hovered above her Master. That Richard's spirit matched Dean Luo’s Ellen was enough to set the others on edge, so much that the ‘Team Gwen’ which preceded his boast fell on deaf ears. “Anita Wong.” A girl with the same irises as Petra raised her hand. “Mobile Defender. I can retrieve or restore mana by having my Spirit consume transmuted stone. My Mineral is Calcite: it looks like this. I will be providing you with armour-buffs and makeshift defensive formations." Without an incantation, Anita transmuted a clump of turf, producing a small knee-high barrier of jagged, hex-pyramidal crystals. “Bai Tei.” Senior Bai stood and bowed. “Defensive position. Dust Abjurer. I am on my third selection and my second IIUC. I will be in your care.” A third-year, Bai was widely known throughout the university and needed no introduction. In all likelihood, with his seniority, Bai would take on the position of Team Captain. “Karie Mok. I am a two-timer as well, along with that gravedigger over there,” the headliner Diviner of the team announced. The girl had a catty mien that reminded Gwen of a typical ‘Young Miss’. Her slightly upturned eyes gave her a feline expression both haughty and aggressive. “I am your only Diviner, so when the time comes, listen to what I say, else ignore me at your peril.” The rest of the team stiffened. “I am… E-Eunae Lee,” a quiet voice spoke from somewhere. Eunae?! Gwen arched her neck to see, noting that it was indeed the South Korean bestiary exchange-student who had presented herself. Extending a hand, she waved at Eunae. Eunae waved back with comparably less enthusiasm. The last time they parted, Caliban had scared her shitless. “I am… a Positive Magic user. And I have a Familiar Spirit called Luyi…” A healer? Many a furrowed brow met Eunae's proclamation. Curiously, Gwen didn’t recall Eunae being short-listed in April. “Eunae is a Utility caster,” the Dean explained. “She is skilled at dispelling curses, hexes, and mind-afflicting enchantments. Likewise, her Familiar engenders a group-wide Area of Effect Rejuvenating effect that detoxifies and wards against poisons. Isn't that right, Miss Lee?” Eunae nodded fiercely. The Dean had a point, though most teams would prefer a dispeller-Enchanter who could also buff. For day-long Quests, it was entirely possible to glamour the questing party for up to 24 hours without the need to include said Enchanter in the away team. Comparably, Eunae's active inclusion would detract from the team's power level. Had Walken been present, he would have reminded the others that teams from Europe may field Witches, whose infamous hex-spells offered buffs and debuffs in equal measure, all the while retaining a respectable tier of individual firepower. “Yessir, I have received permission to participate from Ewha U." “Wait, she’s Korean?” Karie stated the obvious. “We’re going to be competing against Seoul U, aren’t we?” “Half-Korean,” the Dean reminded their Diviner. “Just as Jiro is half-Japanese. The IIUC is not a nationalist conflict, Miss Mok. It’s a skill-exchange between academic associations and Fudan, unlike Tsinghua or Jiantong, remains committed to being an international university!” Karie Mok shrugged. Gwen could sense the tension even from the front of the row. “Rene Mui,” spoke the next girl, one Gwen had presumed was South-East Asian until she announced her name. “I hail from the Thundering Peninsula south of Guangdong. I am a Magma Mage studying under Instructor Hufei Chen. My preferred position is Offence.” “Jiro Peng,” the half-Japanese member declared himself. “Fire Evoker, tier 6. Just in case anyone’s wondering, no, I have never been to Japan. I was born and raised right here in Shanghai; my grandmother was a refugee from Okinawa. I have contracted an Undying Firebird named Tanyu.” Impressive! Gwen wanted to clap. She knew of Jiro’s Firebird from Walken, who had said that the young man's flames were near-impossible to douse without first incapacitating Jiro. “Kitty Liang…” Gwen had been staring at Kitty since they arrived, making the girl uncomfortable in more ways than one. Her voice was quieter in public, a complete one-eighty when compared to the girl who screamed at Gwen to fuck off. “Ice and Air. Control or Offence. I have a Roc Spirit, a juvenile. My speciality is aerial combat.” “Tai Sun, Earthen Mage, Abjurer. I am from the Taishang Sect, a Defender like Senior Bai,” another contestant intoned dejectedly, realising that the stationary defence position was likely going to be Bai’s alone. “Gigi Yang, Ermei Sword Mage.” A young woman with flowing, waist length hair glanced at Lulan and Gwen. “I am a Mineral user as well. My speciality is CQB, like Miss Li. I am aiming for an Offence slot.” “Chen Chan, Mud Mage.” A stout young man yawned. “Control. Jiangsu.” “Jinwei Li, Sword Mage.” Jinwei, Lulan’s cousin, said nothing else. “Miriam Yen, Salt Mage. I hail from the Qingdao Five River Sect.” A muscular young woman with an impressive physique struck out her chest. “Defence, offence, I don’t care. Our Clan’s Magic is very versatile.” “Tsai Fu, Earthen Conjurer-Enchanter. I can make terracotta-golems,” their final member intoned miserably, realising that when Dean Luo had advised that he rethink the application, he was trying to spare him the embarrassment. Eight Clanners, excluding Lulan, Gwen noted. Almost half their number. That in itself was enough to indicate the unbalanced influence exercised by the Clans. She wondered if the Dean already had a short-list of ten in mind, balanced between independents and Clanners. Presuming herself, Richard and Lulan counted as independents, that left room for the Diviner, possibly Eunae, then finally five or six Mages from Sects. ‘CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!’ The Dean's meaty palms met in prayer. “Good, now that you’re all acquainted. Let’s proceed with the teamwork examination. Conjure Objects!” Upon the open lawn of the campus oval, a mass of strange and twisted components, some metal, some rubber, some large and small, mundane and magical, littered the immaculately mown turf. It was an awe-inspiring display of control and mental fortitude. “Those are the dismantled parts of 'four' planar purifiers,” the Dean began. “The scenario, based on a prior IUCC Quest, is that you and the other teams from three universities are fighting for machine parts to save the NoMs living in your Frontier Districts. As this is a trial to gauge how well you mesh with others, we will not be taking your Magical Ability into account. As such, sans sorcery and in teams of four; each group will occupy a quadrant of the field! Your quadrant and everything on it will belong to your team.” If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Immediately, the IIUC contestants scanned the field. Feeling an intense déjà vu, Gwen spontaneously searched their surroundings for quintessential components. Blessed with fortified vision, she quickly spotted a bundle of nondescript paper in the furthest quadrant almost two hundred meters away. Though the writing couldn't be seen, she could ascertain with confidence that she had spotted the assembly manuals. “Richard, Lulan, to me!” She took the initiative before the others could act and the Dean could continue. Eunae sidled toward Gwen pleadingly, though Gwen was glancing at Kitty, or barring that, Karie. Without a word, Jinwei walked behind the trio. “…” Gwen exchanged a look with the zealous Clanner. Mate, you’re too keen, her eyes chided the young man; if he had joined an opposing camp, he could have served as a mole. Taking Gwen’s cue, the others shuffled into their respective assemblies. Group 1 consisted of herself, Lulan, Richard and Jinwei. Group 2 consisted of Rene, Jiro, Eunae and Karie Group 3 consisted of Bai, Chen, Gigi and Tai. Group 4 consisted of Miriam, Kitty, Anita and Tsai. “I am happy to see that you are all very keen.” The Dean grinned. “As stated, this a contest to see how well you work together, not just as a group of four, but as a whole, to reconstruct these purification filters as quickly as possible and within the time limit. The group to reconstruct the LAST filter will face harsh penalties when we consider who to exclude. Likewise, the members who assemble the filter FIRST will receive priority.” “Also, in considering your actions, scores given will be used to calculate seniority within your IIUC party. Students with the highest team-work rating will receive the title of Captain and Vice Captain, while those of you with the lowest, up to the 10th member, will be subordinate. Once established, your leader's decisions are absolute. During the competition, should you exercise insubordination, you will be punished accordingly. For the six members soon to be disqualified, you may be called upon for the competition if there are casualties among the core members, or if a replacement is deemed necessary.” The Dean gave them all a smirk of encouraging confidence. “Now, who will choose first?” Gwen's hand shot up, but to the surprise of all, she turned to face Karie’s group. “Karie, you’re our only Diviner, so I want to give you the first pick.” In response, the Diviner gave the Worm Handler a head-to-toe, trying to ascertain her ploy. “Why don’t you pick first?” the Diviner offered. “I can’t use my talent, after all, talk about stupid.” Gwen extended a hand to the other two groups. “Kitty? Senior Bai?” Kitty and Co. appeared indecisive. “Ladies first.” Senior Bai folded his arms. As one of the people who were sure to be selected, he was more interested in Gwen's game. “Very well.” Gwen breathed out. She pointed to the east quadrant, which had the least amount of parts. “We’ll take that one.” “Miss, I do believe the west quadrant has two Cores,” Jinwei spoke just loud enough for her to hear. “Trust me on this.” “Miss...” “Gwen must know something.” Lulan stopped her cousin, who looked unconvinced. Very soon, the others picked their quadrants. “Your time starts now," the Dean announced before sauntering away to the bleachers, simultaneously informing the Proctors to activate the surveillance mandala. A gentle thrum hummed over the field for a split-second. “Alright everyone, with me,” Gwen told the group to follow. “Over yonder, hop to it.” “Shouldn’t we be taking inventory?” Richard glanced at the others, wondering what it took to steal from the others. With Lea, he should be able to pull it off. From the look of their quadrant, they didn’t have a Core. “No need; just come.” The group followed. At the furthest edge, watched by dozens of curious passersby, Gwen retrieved a stack of paper weighed under a glass panel. “That’s…” “The instruction manual.” Gwen waved it in the air for all to see. “How did you know?!” Lulan exhaled a sigh of relief, glad that Gwen indeed knew what she was doing. With a deft splay of both her hand, Gwen fanned out four copies of the manual. “How curious,” Richard observed. “I think I am starting to understand how the game is played. Shall we thrift for a Core first? Senior Bai's quadrant has two; maybe get them to give up multiple surplus parts. Between the two teams, I am sure we can corner at least one other team. How about we start with Kitty?” “That's beside the point,” Gwen urged her peers to huddle. “Listen up.” She held the instruction just out of sight. “This isn’t a game for us to win,” she explained. “This is a game to determine who leads and who leaves.” “Ergh…” Lulan swallowed nervously. Of the three, she was the least likely to be picked, though she had a lifeline in the form of Jinwei. “So forget about coming first,” their companion intoned seriously. “Instead, we’re going to do everything we can to facilitate everyone else's' success.” Her team regarded her strangely, even for Gwen, this was too much of a mental pitfall. "I am not sure if you noticed." She struck a thumb out at the Dean, her mind working furiously to construe a passable analogy. "But the old man never said anything about winning or losing..." In the mid-00s, during her university days, Gwen had edged past several thousand contestants to participate in the HSBC Young Businesswoman’s program in Hong Kong. After a week of mind-numbing seminars and corporate speakers, the bank's organisers had taken the young women out to a countryside retreat. Within the 7-day conference, they networked through copious amounts of hiking tours, cooking classes, self-defence and nature tours - all based around the Ocean Park Marriott Resort. On the fourth day, the organisers had told the girls, a splintered gathering of twenty out of a hundred women from international universities, to file into a gym where a disturbing splay of bike parts dotted multiple quadrants. Then, drawing lots, the girls split into four teams. The goal, explained the organiser, was for the girls to work together to assemble the bikes. The winning team received a 1000 USD spa voucher for the Park Regent’s upper floor sauna, enough for all five team members to receive the full treatment. Number two received buffet vouchers for the seafood feast, valued at 250 USD. Number three and four received a pat on the back. Not so gifted at bike-assembly, but gung-ho for spa treatments, the girls were all fired up. Gwen, of course, had assumed natural command of her bartering team and had just managed to hog about half the number of wheels when the organiser brought in a local boy looking decidedly miserable compared to the sea of pastel blouses. “Mr Ning says that there’s going to be bikes donated to our orphanage," the boy informed the company of sweaty young women busy at work with spanners. SHIT! Gwen spewed when she realised the whole point of the exercise was applied ethics. The didactic trial was for the promotion of teamwork in a manner that moved individuals away from a mentality of individual gain toward synergy value, prioritising the welfare of the children who were waiting for their bikes: especially bikes not missing parts because someone was desperate for a spa ticket. In hindsight, it was a rather blatant attempt at force-feeding ambitious young women a ladle of chicken soup for the soul. Not to mention the orphan HSBC had picked out was cute as a button, instantly slaying half the young women in the room. Afterwards, the assemblage had all gone to the orphanage and donated individually to the organisation, which was then matched dollar for dollar by HSBC. A little photo-op was had, and the kids, the businesswomen and their bikes all made it into the local paper, as well as on HSBC's social media. Gwen and a few of the comelier girls also made the cover of HSBC's in-house magazine. Principally, the takeaway was as follows: The contestants gained a spa Groupon and feel-good memories. The kids received donations and half-a-dozen K-Mart bikes. HSBC gained good-will and good optics. Win - Win - Win. That's how the game was played. “And that’s how it is,” Gwen informed the others. Lulan and Jinwei looked at Gwen as though she was the strategist Zhuge Kongming reborn. Richard gave their opponents across the oval a cursory glance. “Okay, we’ll play it your way,” he apprised his over-imaginative cousin. In Gwen's words, the whole thing was a mind-fuckery experiment to see if people are willing to work together or if they’re keen to succeed selfishly at the cost of the overall objective. As with any corporate group activity, the test was to see how people react when situational duress met underlying personality. Usually, unless an employee demonstrated destructive, spectacular failure, there was no right or wrong thing to do. Presumably, the Dean was interested in seeing which of the students possessed leadership and follower-ship, and who had the tendency of being an asshole. Teamwork and cohesion, Dean Luo had reiterated, were equal to Spellcraft, as arguably, all the teams possessed relatively similar tiers of Magic. Which, according to Bai, was minotaur shit. Progenitor colleges like Oxford and Cambridge undeniably possessed an unbridgeable advantage in terms of Spellcraft knowledge. Analogically, Gwen supposed, it was like competing against European countries in the Winter Olympics as a Jamaican Bobsled team. If Fudan couldn’t get its teamwork together, it may as well save itself the shame. “Great, help me arrange everything first, take the parts that we have, and lay it out on the diagram,” Gwen entreated her companions before approaching the corner boundary where all four teams bisected. “Ladies, gents, a moment of your time?” Her Illusion-powered holler echoed across the oval. The splintered parties gathered, leaving all but two individuals to wander. Kitty’s aloofness came as no surprise, though the fact that Karie, their Diviner, also stood apart was a sign of troubles to come. Did the woman think her position was unassailable? Gwen frowned. If she recalled correctly from her notes, the Mok family was a well-to-do merchant House like the Wangs. What had the woman hoped to gain by putting on airs? “I have the blueprints and the assembly instruction.” Gwen waved the paper back and forth. “Let’s facilitate a trade agreement to make this hassle-free. I am going to give everyone the first page with the parts and numbers list. Lay out your quadrant's components like what Richard and Lulan are doing, place surplus parts onto the left margin and your core-components in the middle. After that, we'll do the old' swap meet!” With a mote of Void, she cleanly sliced the booklets' bindings, then portioned out the first two pages, a double-spread diagram. The others regarded one another. Was the scheming Void Sorceress trying to trade them the manual page by page? What deviousness! “Senior Bai,” Gwen implored sweetly. “Do you trust me?” “I do.” Bai nodded, not understanding her game but comprehending her goal. “Chen, Gigi, Tai. Do as she says.” “Yessir.” The others obliged. There was no point refuting Senior Bai, who was the most experienced individual, and whose Clan was famed for its precepts of righteousness and piety. “Alright, let’s see where this is going.” Lacking a clear leader and feeling jilted by their Diviner; Rene, Jiro and Eunae went about picking parts to bring to the borderline. Watching the diminutive Eunae rolling a length of pipe was entirely endearing, Gwen chuckled. Why was it that healers were all so cute? In the final quadrant, Tsai and Miriam were commanded by Anita to do the same, joined momentarily by Kitty, who gave Gwen a dirty look. “Karie,” Gwen called out to the Diviner. “Teamwork!” The disdainful girl shot her a wilting look of disapproval. Maybe she’s on the rag, Gwen accounted for the Diviner’s hostility, she couldn't imagine why Karie Mok was so hostile. It took about ten minutes for the groups to arrange their pieces. “Would anyone like to start?” Gwen raised her extra three copies of the instruction manual. “Sure: I'll give you a core, a left-ventricle tubing, and the transformer actuator for all three copies of the manual,” Senior Bai offered with a glint in his eye. “Ha! No can do. One-copy per team,” Bai's counterpart snickered. “Richard, what else we got?” Richard read out a list of surplus parts which he had deduced after Gwen's counter-intuitive purpose. “Cheers, Dick. Senior Bai, we'll trade you a right-ventricle seal, an exhaust gasket and a filtration panel.” Richard pointed to the parts, demonstrating a sharp eye for puzzles. “But…” Bai gazed at Gwen’s quadrant, then back again, confused by the offer. From what he could see, Gwen was trading out parts she required herself. “Lulu.” Richard passed a second list over to Lulan. “Go and trade for these with group 3. Jinwei, go trade for these with group 4. Bring back the parts and put them all into the surplus pile.” “Senior Bai.” Gwen smirked at the perplexed Clanner, her eyes forming two smiling half-moons. “You said you would trust me.” “Because we’re on the same team?” “Yep," the girl elegantly inclined her head. "Isn't that what teamwork is all about?" Dean Luo realised the jig was up as soon as Gwen’s group traded away their share of essential components. A wave of disappointment and dejection washed over the Dean, who had prepared a speech. Despite what appeared to be the total sum of parts that made up four filtration systems, he had laid out only three full systems, while the fourth was a different model with similar parts, serving no purpose other than to confuse. In their scramble to chaotically barter for the necessary components, the contestants would first create bad blood by having the group with access to the instruction manuals trade for essentials, ensuring individual success. As a direct result, at least one group would realise that irrevocably, having given away an essential part, they had been duped. The remaining three may then become the target of sabotage, as the only way to avoid disqualification is to ensure that at least one other team failed, or reached a stalemate. Furthermore, as a result of unplanned, chaotic bartering, confusion would arise, resulting in a scenario where blame and praise would further decay teamwork. Historically, Luo recalled that when Jiantong had utilised a similar exercise, the winner had memorised the manuals, then bartered all four away for multiple core components to two teams, leaving one to be utterly exploited, thereby completely demolishing their competitor’s chances. For the two surviving teams, an embittered process had caused tempers to flare, exposing the best and worst of the contestants. What Gwen was now doing was thus unprecedented. The girl was facilitating exchanges to benefit her opponents. Had she figured out the rules of the contest? The Dean mulled unpleasantly. It was highly improbable that anyone should know of his intent in advance. He had been subtle in his phrasing, not to mention every other contestant had exactly reacted as Luo had anticipated. With Gwen's approach, rather than losing points for self-preservation, aggression, or subversive actions, Gwen and her team were gaining points for cooperation with every item exchanged even as the remaining three teams did their best to undermine one another’s chances at completing their device first. The devious thing, Dean noticed, was that Gwen's team had no point-deductions at all. A win via win-win? The Dean grunted. Was the girl trying to exercise the ethos of the Middle Path? “DONE!” Bai Tei stepped back from the completed filtration unit. “We’re first!” “Well done!” Gwen clapped from across the dividing line. Bai's team exhaled collectively. Even toward the end, Gwen had no tricks up her sleeve, like forcing them to offer up their almost-completed filter. “I don’t get it.” Bai gathered his team behind him. “What’s in it for you?” The girl smiled secretly as Richard, Lulan and Jinwei parcelled out the last of their useful parts to teams 3 and 4. By now, Gwen's quadrant was full of unusable trash which Dean Luo had conjured for the express purpose of inciting conflict. The remaining two teams, consisting of Kitty’s and Karie’s, fell into a stalemate. Each held the parts the other desired and was thus refusing to trade. Gwen wanted to call out that if they were to exchange components until the final piece, it could come down to sudden death. That would be a fair and square measure of luck and skill, and it would ensure two more filters were completed. “TIME’S UP!” The Dean returned to the oval, happy that his ploy wasn’t a complete failure. “Gather up!” The groups again converged, forming two lines. “I have good news and bad news.” The Dean inspected the lonesome filter. The gathering of students stiffened. “As stated, the goal of this exercise, your primary objective, is for your group, and that means all of you, to reconstruct the filters as soon as possible.” Karie’s party, consisting of Rene, Jiro and Eunae, blinked as they exchanged hostile glances with Kitty’s party, consisting of Miriam, Anita and Tsai. Senior Bai cast a curious glance at Gwen, who looked entirely at ease for a group that had not attempted a single filter. “Likewise, this is an exercise for us, the examiners, to observe your ability to lead, follow and achieve Quest objectives, as well as to demonstrate creative thinking, problem-solving, negotiation and conflict resolution.” The Dean gave the failed groups a wilting glare, ignoring the smiling Gwen. “If this was the IIUC, then you'd all be back on the ship tomorrow. You have already lost the Match for Fudan.” Silence reigned. “The origin of this exercise harkens back to 1993,” the Dean continued. “The objective for the second round of the IIUC, set in Inner Mongolia, was the restoration of the Frontier District’s drinking supply. However, the shipment of filter parts had been waylaid by Centaur hordes, resulting in less than six functioning arrays. For this Quest, Fudan had been pitted against Tsinghua and Tokyo U. Having collected core components in their first foray, our friends from Japan managed to reconstruct two filtration systems within their assigned District. As for our parties, they managed one unit each, both as a result of having lost parts to a spell scuffle and having failed at bartering with Tokyo U for the necessary components. For this reason, Tokyo U managed 678 CCs, disqualifying our measly 320 CCs.” “In hindsight, the primary purpose of the exercise was the preservation of the Districts, which was impossible without planar filtration for the supply of clean drinking water. Within the ruling, any action significantly contributing to your primary objective was awarded CCs. Had a team aided in the reconstruction of all six units, their CC count would have exceeded 600, excluding time-completion bonus and kill counters!” The other members slowly turned their eyes toward Gwen, some worshipful, others suspicious and hostile. “Therefore!” the Dean barked. “Let this exercise be a lesson in myopia! Let not your desire to win, to reign over others, cloud your judgement! Always keep your eyes on the true objective of the quest. Think critically! That is the purpose and method of the IIUC!” “That’s horse shit,” Karie, the Diviner, mumbled under her breath. A few of the others, mostly Clanners, agreed. The Dean ignored them. “Gwen,” he called out to his dearest troublemaker. “Bai as well, I want to talk to the both of you. As for the rest - dismissed! Results will be out by Monday.” “Gwen, thanks.” Senior Bai gave his junior a thumbs up. “Shall we?” Gwen stepped aside as to follow her Senior. Along the way, she glanced at Kitty, who stood dejected and shaking, then followed the Dean as to escape the humid heat of the field for the cool interior of his office.

“That’s true.” The Dean acknowledged her proposal in a way that Gwen felt bordered on insult. “Thanks to that display, I’d almost forgot your exotic mental predicament. We wouldn't want that flaring up in the middle of a match now. Still, promise me you won't just do as you please.” “I will listen to Senior Bai to the best of my abilities,” Gwen assured the Dean. “And I will heed Gwen's advice as needed,” Tei promised besides her. “We’re a team, as she said.” “You can work it out among yourselves.” The Dean affirmed approvingly. "I am glad we have finalised the list. Two months left until our first match, have you lodged your deferment?” "Yessir." “I’d prefer to keep studying,” Gwen stated. “Semester Two is going to start anyway.” “I am afraid that’s impossible. You’ll be travelling in and out of Shanghai starting August,” the Dean reminded her. “It's normal for students to defer their studies during the IIUC - or are you saying you’re not confident you’ll last until February?” February inferred the final match, not to mention the much-lauded award ceremony seen around the world. “There’s much studying to be done before a match as well, you’ll receive the location and a general guideline for the match weeks prior, though as for the fine details of the Quest, you won't know until the day.” At the Dean's insistence, Gwen reassessed her schedule. Should she defer? It was probably the right idea. She wasn’t so arrogant to think she could pass her courses while travelling away for two weeks every month for four months, then again well into February, not to mention there remained work to be done in Nantong and with the House of M. “I shall heed your advice, Sir. Thank you.” Gwen bowed. The Dean gave her a paternal pat on the head. “I look forward to your performance, Miss Song.” “Of course.” Gwen received the Dean’s benediction. “I’ll be sure not to disappoint!” “Good. Tei, what do you think about the team makeup?” The Dean turned to Tei. “Sound me out.” “Of course, Sir.” Tei bowed. “The core members are me, Gwen and Karie. The teams are flexible, but ordinarily, I would suggest the three of us plus a member for Control, for example, Richard or Kitty, and another Offence, such as Lulan, Rene or Jiro, depending on environment and our competition's makeup.” “That’s good.” “Conversely, for missions requiring mobility, I’d suggest replacing myself with Anita, bring in Richard to replicate my counter-dispelling, then Kitty and or Lulan. For base defence Quests, we can split the teams, with a mobile strike team emphasising firepower, while Jiro would work wonders on defence with his persistent flames. So long as Gwen remains in play with her Familiars, we shouldn't have issues with small-scale encounters.” “I notice our Cleric appears to be missing. You haven’t seen the synergy between Gwen and a Positive Energy user yet, have you?” “No Sir.” The Dean chuckled. “Make sure you do. Now, what’s your opinion on our two trouble makers?” “Karie isn’t normally so obtuse,” Tei defended his former team member. “I’ll speak to her when I get the chance. Maybe it’s something at home.” “Kitty should come around,” Gwen defended her ‘friend’ as well, thinking perhaps Mia or Miss Maymyint could help. “I’ll convince her, one way or another.” “Then I shall rest reassured.” The Dean tapped the table thoughtfully. “It is possible to replace members mid-competition, but only if they’re dead or incapacitated. Concurrently, there’s also a penalty for bringing in members mid-competition due to casualties: five per cent, if I recall correctly, so let’s not make any mistakes. If those two are not suitable…” Fudan's Captain and Vice-Captain both gulped. “Not that I am without confidence in the two of you.” The Dean cleared his throat. “But you should spend time with your team. I am thinking of sending you all to get to know each other in an Orange Zone, nothing too serious, a light exercise.” “That would be ideal, Sir.” Gwen’s eyes lit up. “We can do synergy building!” “Yes, I'd thought you might have something in mind. I’ll let you know when I have the details. It’ll have to be somewhere isolated, and a senior staff member will accompany you.” “Of course, Sir.” “Then that’s it. I'll put out the notice. You two, stay out of trouble.” Bai and Gwen both bowed. “You especially.” The Dean gave Gwen an expectant look. “Stay clean for two months!” Monday-week: a semi-circle of students studied the bulletin board. 2004 IIUC Final Selection: **Offence:** Gwen **Song** (Vice Captain) **Offence** : Lulan **Li** **Offence:** Rene **Mui ** **Offence:** Jiro **Peng ** **Defence:** Bai **Tei** (Captain) **Defence:** Anita **Wong** **Control:** Richard **Huang ** **Control:** Kitty **Liang ** **Utility:** Karie **Mok** **Utility:** Eunae **Lee** "Do you think they'll broadcast this year's IIUC?" an anonymous voice raised an important question. "They better." A member of the Fudan DC slapped the first on the back. "I, for one, look forward to seeing our Captain and the Worm Handler on Vid-cast!" Karie Mok sat in the living room of her family’s estate, drowning out the silence by cranking up the Vid-caster. With a clumsy fumble, she poured herself a thimble of her father’s Zhuyeqing, a white wine fermented in the hollow of a still-growing giant bamboo, then knocked it back in one gulp. The sticky alcohol crawled down her throat like a line of fire, its vitality flushing her body with a gradual warmness that dispelled the bone-chilling paranoia she had acquired since returning from Dean Luo's competition. The day prior, she had spoken to Tei Bai, and the two of them had parted amicably, with Karie promising to perform her duty. Now, she was regretting everything. “Young Miss…” Lao Gu, an old butler of the family that had followed her from Shandong when she was just a child, eyed the bottle nervously. Like most of the city’s fu-er-dai, his young miss was prone to occasional excess. Ignoring the NoM, Karie poured herself another thimble. Though she wasn’t the future-telling sort of Diviner, she wasn't imperceptive enough to ignore her Sigil. What her gut feeling told her was that under no circumstances should she further involve herself with Gwen Song. The paralysing dread had caught her entirely unaware, as only a week ago, she had been filled with optimism and hope that 2004 was going to be different. Yesteryear, their Team Captain had been an arrogant Clanner from the Wutang mountains, a Kenshi from one of the oldest sects in China. He had ignored Vice-Captain Bai’s advise at every turn, going so far as to antagonise the intelligence Karie had Scried when she contradicted his assessments. In Tibet, as a result of the idiot’s decision to play the ‘fisherman’ against the ‘clam and the crane’, Tsinghua had taken the egg while the rest of them were left fending off a very angry mama-Roc. So this year, when Tei told her that he was vying to be Captain, she had naturally assumed that she was going to be his second. That way, cooler heads would prevail, not to mention as the only Diviner and the team’s chief source of intelligence, she was the pragmatic option. The addition of Gwen Song had been another reason why Karie had been glad to be participating in her final IIUC. The new girl was phenomenal, her talents and her combat track-record both unmatched - if rumours could be believed. Through her family connections, Karie had verified that the girl had out-duelled Wonsoo Liu, the famous Battle Mage. If so, it meant that Fudan had a powerhouse on par with low-tier Magisters from the Front. With herself in command and Bai wielding Gwen Song, breaking through the Asian round was assured. Merely imagining a Jap Shikigami eating a Void-sphere to its Core was enough to send shivers down Karie's spine. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. A shiver without cessation. When they had met face to face, a sudden sliver of eldritch ice had pierced Karie's spine, then twisted its sinews and nerves until her face was bloodless. During the exchange, when the Void sorceress twice attempted to speak to Karie, the Diviner's nerves had revolted. Instinctively, she wanted to leave there and then, but she couldn't risk losing so much 'face'. The price of quitting was too high, even if her Sigil warned that attending the IIUC with Gwen Song meant courting death. She cursed her second-rate bloodline. To drop out now - what would her parents think? Of course, the IIUC was dangerous, her father would say, of course, people died. But she went to the last one, didn’t she? If she was afraid, why had she joined in the first place? Furthermore, she wasn’t the foretelling sort of Diviner, so who knew if her prediction was even accurate? Chalk it up to nerves! Her parents would say. She should toughen up and get on with it! Chairman Mao didn’t give up on the Long March even knowing that most of his comrades would perish! And they would be right. Would her father give up on a venture because he might lose money? Would the army stop protecting its citizens because PLA Mages may perish? Karie wasn’t the Oracle of Delphi; she was just a young woman, a mundane one at that. She wanted to be an Intelligence Officer, maybe work in the Central Bureau, serving as the occasional Field Officer only when needed, ideally a safe distance away from the Front. But this was death! Her prescience pierced her morbid mind. She had to choose life! Having never imperilled life and limb, she couldn’t imagine how such a thing was going to happen. Was Gwen Song going to murder her? Was a Mongolian Deathworm how she met her end? Perhaps the Void sorceress would err in a moment of crisis, then Karie would die in an uneventful accident. Ensnared by visions and revisions, the Diviner floated between decision and destiny. Was it even possible to change fate? She took another sip. The throbbing in her head dulled. The pinging of her Sigil quelled. She felt like a proverbial carp wedged between a rock and a hard place. After all, what was the point of being famous, and deceased? “A toast to the 2004 Fudan IIUC team members!” A few minutes into the party, Karie Mok knew she was going to be sick. It didn’t take a Diviner to foretell that turning up to a mixer with a hangover wasn’t the best idea. The group had gathered at Gwen Song’s behest at M on the Bund, a chic riverside cafe overlooking the most scenic stretch of the Huangpu River. In the past, Karie had once or twice enjoyed high tea with her friends here. That a section had been cleared out and reserved solely for ten university students was a scene she’d never expected. Even for someone at her family’s stratum of wealth, it seemed like a waste of money. Gingerly, hoping that her brain wouldn’t spill from her ears like soup, she scanned the faces sitting around the circular table: Lulan Li, Senior Tei, Jiro and Anita weren’t affluent by any means. The girl from Seoul, Eunae, wasn’t going to splurge on people she’d never seen before. Kitty Liang? Never heard of her. Richard Huang? She heard he was a workaholic. It meant that only Gwen Song had the clout to burn the hundred odd HDMs necessary to empty a place like M on the Bund for something as trivial as a celebratory dinner. Karie wasn’t opposed to diplomatic generosity, but when the host was stuffing her to a barrel to throw her into the Huangpu River, she could hardly summon the enthusiasm expected of her. In a moment, the entrée arrived, a fist-sized 'drunken' South Sea Scampi ceviche in shell, served over a bed of crystalline lychee flesh. Karie held her breath. The rich aroma of sweetened mirin was enough to force her stomach into bouts of convulsion. She wanted to leave, to go home, curl up into a ball, then find a way to call this whole thing off. “Senior Mok, Are you alright?” Karie looked up to see a pair of vividly amber-emerald irises bearing down with the weight of mountains. Gwen Song, resplendent in a shimmering little black dress, had been making the rounds, wooing the contestants, standing so tall in her heels that should her peers slink back in their seats, they could kiss the flesh of her thighs. “I am okay,” Karie lied. Comparatively, she wore comfortable casual cotton. The invitation had stated semi-formal, except Karie was neither in the mood nor the right state of health to make herself ready. “You look pale.” The girl reached out with a wayward hand, her white fingers landing gently against Karie's shoulders. “!” Without warning, a deathly dread engendered. Her host's touch was vivifying. Karie almost leapt from her seat; such was the shock surging through her marrows, travelling up her spine to hammer at her teeth, that she bit her tongue. “Jesus, Karie, you're as white as a sheep!” The accursed Void Sorceress leaned in until her face was an inch away. “Eunae, can you come and see if Karie’s okay? I think she’s coming down with something.” “No!” Karie turned from the girl's demonic gaze. She took a chunk of raw scampi and threw the translucent flesh into her mouth. “See? I am fine! I just, oh…” The raw prawn, the mirin, the peculiar crustacean savouriness, all of it was too much. 'Bluuarrrrgh~!' Before she could swallow, her hangover escaped her body, permeating their group's surroundings with rancid expulsions. Without expression, Karie's host allowed the admixture of acid and undigested canapè to slide from her shoes. “Goodness, Karie. Can I get you some water?” Mao! Was her future murderer trying to kill her with kindness?! The Diviner moaned audibly before raising a foul-smelling hand that sent the rest of the table reeling. She took Gwen by the hem of her dress. The girl was fighting her revulsion, Karie could see that, and she was winning. “I don’t want to go,” Karie begged. “What?” Gwen blinked. “Please…” She slumped against the girl's abdomen, pleading and blubbering. “Don’t make me go to the IIUC… I don’t want to die.” It took several seconds for the rest of the party to fall into a sombre silence. If anyone else had just said that, they could have laughed it off, but Karie was their Diviner. If a Diviner was begging to leave, what did that foreshadow? Slick with sick and lukewarm with the foul expulsion of Karie’s gut-wrenching plea, the party’s host turned to regard the rest of her team. “Don’t worry,” she intoned carefully, keeping her face straight and her smile untouched. “I am sure that's the alcohol talking.” The rest of the team agreed to reconvene a few days later. To continue the party after a display like that was impossible. Even if the House of M cleaned up the mess, the glaring asymmetry of their team makeup would only serve to produce paranoia in the team members. Worse still, the news of Karie’s withdrawal had somehow spread. Gwen sighed. They weren't the bloody Fellowship of the Ring, but to think they'd suffer a casualty so soon was goddamn disheartening that she couldn't help but feel cursed. She hadn’t expected that they’d become friends quickly, but to think her team would grow distant before they had gotten close was unacceptable. And this was why she was now in the Dean’s office with Senior Bai, discussing countermeasures. “I don’t know where else we can find another dedicated Diviner.” Bai exhaled with exasperation. “I am sorry Sir, I failed you.” “No, no, Mr Bai.” Dean Luo massaged his temples once Gwen and Bai made their case. “One has to wonder what in Mao's crystal tomb was going through Miss Mok’s head. Sufficient to say, her career, in more ways than one, ended before it began, if that makes you feel any better.” “I don’t blame her,” Gwen intervened on the young Diviner’s part. “Being from the Frontier, I’ve seen death, Sir. I would even say I have come close to experiencing it half a dozen times. Daring death and danger aren't for the faint-hearted; I can entirely empathise with Miss Mok if she lacks the mental fortitude.” The Dean shook his head. Were he not confident that Jiantong and their competitors had signed bilateral pacts of non-interference, he'd have suspected foul play. To be caught committing a criminal act against the terms of the IIUC would disqualify the institution for the foreseeable future and drastically undermine one's academic standing. Likewise, if one must move against Fudan, why not target Gwen? Be it bodily harm, scandal, bribery or any other form of creative larceny; each method was superior to forcing out a Diviner he could replace with a dozen lessers. “This puts our plan in disarray, but alas, there’s good news as well.” To Gwen and Tei's surprise, the Dean grinned. When fate conspired to make one succeed, what could one do but thank the heavens? “Sir?” His students looked up expectantly. “Miss Maymyint, you may come in now.” The two students turned to see the House of M’s premier representative in a python-skin leather outfit that left little to the imagination. When their eyes met, Miss Maymyint’s lips split to form a toothy smile. “Miss Song, well met.” “Miss Maymyint!” Gwen gasped. “You’re still here in Shanghai?” “Business, dear, you should know that. Have you checked your account lately? We've paid you a sizable bonus to aid you in your future endeavours.” Maymyint’s voice drifted across the room sultry and sweet, carrying the slightest hint of a lisp. “Hahaha…” Gwen answered awkwardly, not wishing to talk shop in front of the Dean. She had indeed checked her account recently. Between her Tonglv coffer and her House of M proceeds, Gwen could purchase an apartment or two near Fudan without crippling her bottom line. Were she not so absurdly busy with matters of magic and the competition itself, she would have invested the money by now, likely into a Wang Group commercial property. “Miss Maymyint said she wanted to surprise you.” The Dean nodded at the woman, one he had met through the Grey Faction’s trade conferences. “I think we found our Diviner.” “OH MY GOD, MIA?” Gwen instantly connected the dots, squealing despite herself. Maymyint affirmed Gwen's hypothesis with a nod. “Wonderful! How come? She said the House of M wouldn't consent." "I now consent." Mayuree's eldest sister flashed her pearly teeth. "I am sure Mia would love to help a friend in need." "Ha! That she does! When will Mia be back?” “I am afraid she won’t be.” “W-what?” Gwen caught herself, confused by Maymyint's apologetic expression. “But you said…” “Your team will be heading over to meet with Miss Mayuree.” A boisterous grin touched his face. “Not only has the House of M entered the IIUC as a sponsor, but they’re also offering to pay for the first round wholesale. Miss Maymyint has told me that Jiantong and our old nemesis, Tokyo U, have both agreed to the location of the first match in Burma.” “Esteemed sir, it's Myăma.” Maymyint coughed gently. “Ah, my apologies,” Dean Luo bowed his head. “So: Gwen, Tei, what do you think? It’ll be a home game away from home. Your team will travel to Myăma in October, and Miss Mayuree will meet you there.” Both Tei and Gwen turned to regard Mayuree’s sister with expressions of awe. “Hahaha…” Maymyint let loose a string of cackling laughter. “How charming you children look. Think nothing of it. Gwen has brought us many boons, more than she knows.” Gwen blushed, as did Bai for a different reason. Suddenly her heart filled her with glee and gladness. With a blessing such as this, it was entirely possible to bring the team back on track. With a ‘home ground’ advantage in having the House of M as their sponsor and a member of the House of M on their team, they possessed every advantage. “Sir, wouldn’t there be a conflict of interest?” Gwen asked just in case. “You think Oxford and Cambridge play fair when they threw LMU and Sorbonne into the forest of Gwydir?" Dean Luo was in a good mood. "Some of the Brits have Elven blood, you know!” How was she supposed to know that? “Gwen, the IIUC Examination Committee is an independent organisation with an oversight committee consisting of European, American and Asian Towers’ senior members,” Bai explained patiently. “Contestants must also submit themselves to surveillance magic by wearing a special beacon on their persons. Having local knowledge doesn't incur a penalty. As a matter of fact, teams are encouraged to visit early to learn the local customs.” Gwen grimaced; she had almost forgotten this world’s obsession with panopticon surveillance. "I can hardly wait." She breathed out. "I know how you feel." Maymyint's eyes formed two thin slits. "You know what they say - absence make the heart fonder!"

“Once again, toast!” Celebratory dinner 2.0 at M by the Bund proceeded happily. Though the team had initially grown cynical over Karie’s departure, the news that a bona fide bloodline Diviner would replace Karie had come as a welcoming boon. Additionally, when Gwen announced that the first match would take place in Myăma and that their Diviner and the local sponsor were both her close confidants, the team grew hot with anticipation for the first round. If even with insider knowledge, the support of the local populace, as well as the favour of the country’s government they still lost - then Fudan should probably give up participating in the IIUC for the foreseeable future. “This time, we’ll show those bangzi and wokou the might of the middle-kingdom!” Anita, the Mineral Transmuter-Abjurer, suddenly dropped a bomb in Gwen's lap. Hailing from Manchuria, the woman had grown up in a region where nationalism ran high after the Sino conflict. Mild racism, weak to alcohol. Gwen noted. Banzi, referring to a corncob, was an ethnic slur for conquered Koreans: during the occupation of Manchuria by Japan's Seventh Army, enslaved Korean Mages were given oft-faulty wands by their commanders, resulting in the spectacle of mana-drained mages having to beat the occasional Chinese rebel-fighter to death with a stout rod of transmuted metal. Wokuo, meanwhile, referred to Japanese pirates that marauded throughout the 8th to the 17th century, raping and pillaging China’s coastal cities while its apathetic scholar-bureaucrats watched with disdain, too busy with in-fighting to enable a meaningful mobilisation. Before Anita could deliver a second jingo, Gwen rose from her seat, distracting Jiro and their on-loan Cleric while Bai silently Messaged Anita. Meticulously, she annotated her mental HR roster. Their defender hailed from Beijing. Her family was military, thus ensuring that she had attended three separate high schools before arriving in Shanghai. Cool-headed when sober, the Mineral Mage possessed a strong nurturing instinct. When complimented about her cropped hair, she inferred that her father had always wanted a son. When she got older, leaving her hair long became insufferable for someone used to let their scalp breathe. From Gwen's observation, the young woman had taken a keen interest in the diminutive Eunae. Across the table, Rene was the sole daughter of a mining magnate in Guangdong, formerly Canton under the Mageocracy, whose holdings over the Thundering Peninsular allowed him to establish a commanding presence from the mainland Frontier to the volcanic half-island. After three toasts, Rene furthermore revealed that she wasn’t the real daughter of House Mui, but an adopted one. Her mentor, Instructor Chen, was a family friend who hailed from the same region, acting as her guardian in Shanghai. Jiro’s introduction was tamer by comparison - he was just a regular rube, the young man explained - until he became trapped in an Elemental Dungeon near Hubei. While inside, he was separated from his peers and ended up surviving without support for a month. While avoiding certain death, dizzy with hunger, he discovered a raided Firebird nest and rescued a remaining egg. “I was going to eat it…” Jiro explained, too honest for his good. “When I cooked it with Flaming Hands, it hatched. Since Tanyu would have died without food and without its parents, I formed a contract with it.” The party burst into laughter and applause at the serendipity of Jiro’s fantastic rendezvous with fate. 'Miraculous encounters’, as the Taoists would have it, was a matter of karmic cause, a predestined gift from heaven. Though such gains could be brought to term by human intervention, the results were seldom as spectacular as ‘destiny’. “Tanyu! Fly!” With a word from Jiro, his bird burst from his forehead, trickling a flaming trail of embers. Despite the sudden fever felt by Gwen on her face and arms, not a single strand of her hair curled, indicating the immense control Jiro possessed over the flames. Unlike Gwen’s Familiars, however, Elemental Spirits manifested only momentarily, incapable of holding its corporeal-form for long. “Sal!” Rene intoned, inspired by Jiro's display. With a sizzling burst of sulphur, something that looked like a log of smouldering tar about the size of a football rolled onto the floor, charring the polished wood. “Oh shit!” Decommissioning her spirit, Rene apologised profusely. Indeed a hot head, Gwen noted mentally. One prone to impulse, not unlike Yue. Conversely, Jiro's temperament was more constrained, likely owing to his Firebird and his mundane middle-class upbringing. "Not to worry," Gwen assured the Evoker. "It's nothing." Next, she turned her attention to Eunae, who squirmed beside the Void sorceress. Eunae dared not disobey her Vice Captain, though the proximity of Caliban a foot away was enough to keep her in flight or flightier mode. To prevent her escape, Ariel prodded the Positive Energy caster with its tentacle whiskers, demanding scratches behind the ears. Thus knuckle-deep in Ariel's luxurious, celestial coat; the Cleric complied. 'The meek shall inherit the earth' Gwen observed of Eunae, though she wondered how the meek hoped to keep it. When in Myăma, their healer may need a Gunther-esque lesson in ultraviolence. "That's enough about us; what about you?" Anita pointed a pair of chopsticks her way. As for Gwen, a one-two combo of survival and sacrifice in Sydney by Richard and herself was enough to win her new friends over. When Lulan further interjected with her story of Gwen's timely rescue, the others clapped and cheered, toasting their indomitable Vice-Captain, who downed half-a-dozen shots without so much as a blink. But the morbidness of her tale paled against the magnificence of Richard’s Familiar, the Undine Lea, who had instantly enthralled the group with her elfin elegance and ethereal grace. “Through Richard, I got to see the world!” Lea flitted about, enchanting every eye from around the room. It wasn’t every day that a diaphanously shawled humanoid Spirit with unfathomable bean-green pools for irises allowed herself to be gawked at by mortals. Charmed, a tipsy Jiro fervently declared that he too wanted Tanyu to assume a humanoid form; ideally, one with a long head of flame-orange hair, trailing embers from her dress, fully embracing Dean Luo's Path of the Dutch wife. When finally with the last dessert dusted, Gwen could see that the team had regained its morale. Very soon, with the Dean’s blessing, the team would travel to the Yancheng Frontier for a training retreat. There, for the next month, they would patrol the newly enclosed Orange Zone, helping the locals as they dealt with Nantong's overflow of exiled magical fauna, supervised by none other than Eric Walken. Monday. Fudan Handan campus training arena. “I am sorry, Percy,” Gwen apologised to her Message bangle. “I'll be stuck at Yancheng for a few weeks; we’re leaving in two days.” The remiss was entirely her fault. Gwen's brother had reminded her a month ago and then again just now that Xiangming DC was participating in the best of eight from Metropolitan Shanghai, but as a result of Karie's fiasco, Gwen had forgotten all about her promise to attend Percy's matches. Both siblings had held great expectations, for in the months since his injury, Percy’s talents had blossomed yet again. Though not in possession of the sheer number of Schools Gwen was known for, his ability to exercise new spells effortlessly in combat far outpaced his already prodigious peers. “Fine, Mei says hi,” Percy sulkily mumbled his disappointment. “I suppose the IIUC is more important than some district comp…” “You’re a hundred years too young to guilt trip me, ya little prick,” Gwen fired back. “Send me the Lumen-recordings. Are Babulya and Gramps going?” “Yep,” Percy answered quickly, hiding his embarrassment. “Wish me luck?” “Go get em,” Gwen chirped happily. “Break a leg.” “Why would I break-” Gwen hung up. “Okay, sorry about that.” Gwen turned back to her training partners. “Let’s pick up where we left off.” Her body rose into the air, buoyed by a growing mastery of Flight. In a shimmering moment, a double-glazed sphere encased her surroundings. “Lava Burst!” Rene had been stewing her mid-range assault for a whole two minutes while Gwen took the call. From a tear in space, a phosphorescent orange geyser poured into the shielded arena, flooding the constrained space with the stink of sulphur. Gwen’s Shield caught the worst of the strike, rapidly turning opaque as the torrent of molten silica rapidly cooled, petrifying against her barrier. “Nice! Void Seeker!” A dark ring of soundless Void tore through the haze of smoke and ash, making straight for Rene. “Anita!” “I see it! Barrier Shard!” The Mineral Mage expanded a barrier of calcite into the air, intercepting Gwen’s Void projectile. The ring bit deep, almost exhausting the depth of the pearlescent wall even as it regenerated. “Ball Lightning!” This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Gwen commanded her Familiar to join the fray. Ariel appeared on the far side of the duelling arena, its Invisibility shedding with the empowerment of its stag horns. After a split-second of incandescence, four electric orbs struck Gwen’s opponents square in the back before erupting into spheres of crackling electricity each a meter-wide. “Replenish!” Anita replaced the black and charred shards of Mage Armour with a word, grunting as her mana dipped just below half. Comparatively, her opponent wasn't even sweating. Their Vice-Captain had been tossing out mid-tier attacks like popcorn from a griller. “Resist Elements!” “Cone of Lava!” Rene’s comically translated invocation manifested as a raging torrent of magma and stone, possessing an equally fantastic capacity for material and elemental damage. At the spell's apex, just as it connected with Gwen’s Shield, the Evoker unleashed a second-stage spell shape. Now under the command of Transmutation, the spray of molten stone transformed into a pair of clasping hands, catching Gwen’s spherical Shield like a baseball caught between a pair of smouldering mitts. "Calcify!" Anita followed up with a Transmutation of her own, coaxing jagged crystalline spikes from the cooling stone. “Dimension Door!” Gwen reappeared just below the splash of lava as the two halves met with a terrific crunch. Above and below her exit, an erupting pustule of tenebrous Void-ink consumed the falling debris. “Cone of Lightning!” she fired back a fan-shaped blast of her own, filling the space between her and her teammates with sizzling streams of cobalt electricity. “Barrier!” Both Anita and Rene took a burst of fulmination to the face before Anita’s blockade stymied the brunt of Gwen’s assault. “Blink!” Rene moved past the barrier as soon as their mutual line of sight was lost, shedding a cluster of ruined hexagonal calcite rods. As she emerged, a coiled Caliban, invisible and waiting, took her full in the abdomen before curling itself around the girl in the manner of a boa constrictor. “Spike!” Anita activated the embedded effect of her Mage Armour. Rene watched as the Mage Armour's calcite shards penetrated the creature’s carapace. "Burst!" A follow-up trigger ensured grievous injury. The fiend's masochistic response was to open its protective shell, expelling a mass of pulsating purple flesh. Gwen took a hit in vitality as she readied Ariel for another strike. “Lightning Bolt!” Anita took the brunt of the formidable discharge, discarding another dozen rods of charred calcite, made brittle after redirecting the lightning sorceress’s assault. “Rene, Blink back!” “I can’t! It’s got- oh shit!” A wave of vertigo and nausea washed over the Magma Mage as Caliban's Void-tinged fluids smothered her. The calcite 'burst' had been a terrible misstep. “Time out! Time out!” Anita waved frantically at Gwen. “Rene’s going to be sick!” And she was. After Caliban kissed her on the head with lamprey tentacle, the defender was on the floor spewing her guts out. Gwen told her Familiar to back off before it could make matters worse with its singing. “Anita, Rene, are the both of you alright?” “Yeah, I am fine.” Anita dispelled her Crystal Skin. “Rene?” “I'll be fine soon…” the young woman was on all fours, forcing herself to ventilate. Being a student of Instructor Chen, her recovery was quicker than most. “I can’t wait to see our opponents face Caliban.” “Ha.” Gwen grinned, materialising towels for her teammates. “Eunae!” “Coming!” A deer Sprite, cute as a button, hopped toward the trio. “Invigorate!” Eunae dropped a low-tier buff, dispelling Rene's vertigo, quickening her allies’ restoration of mana and stamina. “Gwen, how large is your mana pool?” Anita’s glass-like irises flashed. “I am counting eleven T-5 and fourteen T-3 to 4 spells, and that's discounting your Shield and your Familiars.” Gwen grinned awkwardly. “She’s at half-tank,” Richard called out from the sidelines. “No way!” A clamour broke out from the rest of the team, demanding her VMI. “Gwen, you want to tell them?” “I am sitting on...” Gwen made a cute face. “250… or so?” The room grew silent, punctuated only by the occasional ‘Shaaa!’ ‘Eeee!’ and ‘Yii!’. “I am on 82…” Rene appeared devastated. “78…” Anita confessed. “I am relying on my Affinity for mana conservation and my Rock Eater for recycling…” “I am a little happy that I didn’t take the opportunity to brag about my 71…” Jiro coughed. “But seriously - really?” Gwen could only appear bashful. The matter of her VMI was a morally dubious subject. To brag would be worse than an insider trader telling their junior staff that if they pulled themselves up by the bootstraps, they too could sit on their laurels and retire with superannuation, surplus properties and stock options. “Enough about me. Senior Peng, your fight with Richard was amazing.” Gwen made a masterful pivot. Indeed, the duel between Richard and Jiro had indeed been incredible. By the second minute, Gwen's cousin had filled the duelling arena with water, while Jiro had lined the wall with bubbling fire. Were it not for Senior Bai’s intervention; the loser would have been severely injured, be it Richard being boiled alive, or Jiro drowning. Though Gwen suspected that Lea could have cycled the heated water back into the Elemental Plane, the draw was likely planned out by Richard to test Jiro's mettle. As a result, Gwen knew another thing about Jiro - the Fire Evoker would prefer to be unconscious than be beaten. “I hope Myăma has plenty of water,” Lulan declared, having seen Richard in action in Nantong. “Senior Huang is indomitable where there are massive bodies of water.” Conversely, Gwen noted that Lulan's optimism inferred Richard’s threat-level was effectively cut in half in arid environments, meaning Kitty would make the superior Controller. As for their Kunlun Clanner, the girl did attend practice, though she remained aloof and apart from the rest of the team. As for promising to obey Gwen’s commands in combat, the girl had bitten her lip, then stared at her toes as though possessed. What irked Gwen was Kitty's imperviousness to her persuasion, though her lack of cooperation did not imply incompetence. In an earlier bout against Lulan, she had demonstrated supernatural aerial agility against the rapid assault of the Sword Mage, caught only by surprise when Lulan test-fired a Piercing Heart Sword at point-blank, sending the Shielded Ice Mage tumbling below. Then, perhaps because of Gwen's passive-aggressive bitching, Lulan fell upon the Ice Mage with the ferocity of a frenzied badger. Having spent almost four months duelling Gwen and adventuring with Richard, the girl’s combat sense was sharper than a void-tinged razor. With the blunt edge of her massive, iron-girder blade, Lulan had beaten kitty around the enclosed space of the duelling arena until the girl was spewing rainbows, only stopping when Gwen commanded Lulan to return. In an open field, Kitty’s forte would truly shine, but duelling a CQB Caster like Lulan indoors demonstrated the greatest weakness of a Mage that relied on avoidance as a primary mode of defence. “I take it Gwen doesn’t much like the Clanner?” Jiro nervously grinned as Lulan shook off icicles from her hair. “You know, our team has only two Sect-born Clanners. Senior Bai and Kitty. Maybe Dean Luo is not too happy with the Sects?” “Won’t surprise me,” Rene observed likewise. “You know how they are. No offence, Senior Bai.” “None taken.” Tei Bai battered a hand. “We did have a terrible Captain last year.” "The Dean's going for broke.” Rene's pencil-faint lips formed a smile. “I think we might be the only team from China that’s not choked full of Sect Mages.” “Good,” Anita joined the trio. “Less ego is fine with me.” “I noticed another thing.” Jiro scratched his brows, then counted the members on his hands. “Does our team seem incredibly cosmopolitan to you?” "For example - I am 'Japanese'," Jiro continued with a hint of self-loathing. "Eunae is South Korean, Lulu is an ex-Clanner, Captain Bai hails from one of the most respected Sects in Shandong, Richard is Australian-Chinese, Gwen looks Anglo, and our Diviner is Burmese." "Now that you mention it." Bai appeared contemplative. "Last year, we were all locals, the whole ten of us." The team regarded one another. Perhaps it was serendipity, or maybe it was by design, but they were undoubtedly an ‘international’ team. Assuming Fudan broke through to the regional competition, wouldn’t it mean that all of Asia had something to cheer for, that someone in their squad would tickle a nationalist fancy here, there and everywhere? Six pairs of eyes converged onto their Vice Captain, a woman who remained 'at half-tank' after duelling an offence-defence combo. Each by each, Gwen's teammates wondered if they should prepare a speech for the Vid-Casts, just in case. “Gwen is going to Burma.” Jun sat against the rails, looking out over the muggy city below, bathed the colour of a florid fruit shop. “Just like you said.” “Then it has come to pass,” the Dragon-kin’s reply drifted out from the suite’s interior. When she emerged, it was with the bearing of a queen, regal in her gold-spun robes of midnight. “Mao, you’re beautiful.” Jun's breath caught in his throat. Even after six months, his companion continued to surprise him. “I know.” Ayxin willed a lounge to withdraw from the wicker coffee table before taking a seat. “Ayxin, may I enquire after your sibling?” “Of course. Do you mean Ruxin or Golos? Or heavens forbid, Ryxi?” “Ruxin.” Jun realised his eyes no longer cared for the city, so he may as well take a seat beside his lover. “You said he was in Burma.” “You're asking about something that occurred twenty, maybe thirty years ago.” Ayxin cocked her head, holding her lover's reflection intact between her golden irises, following her silhouette in his dark robs. “Our kind isn't cut out for maintaining filial relations.” “Gwen tells me that her friend, the Burmese girl, told her that a Dragon overran their kingdom,” Jun began, taking care not to sound too concerned. A Dragon’s possessiveness could be triggered by the slightest provocation, which would deny further avenue of enquiry on Gwen's behalf. “Which incidentally, happened some two decades, ago, in 1982, to be exact, in Yangon.” "So?" “So Ruxin could arguably be this Tyrant,” Jun noted the change in Ayxin's demeanour. "The timestamp matches up." “OR, the tyrant could be any other ambitious whelp. After all, my kind enjoys building lairs.” "But powerful drakes are exceedingly rare, and I recall you saying Ruxin was on the hunt for a nest." "Hmm~." "For what purpose?" "The lair?" "Yes." Ayxin spared the subtlest of glances at her still-flat abdomen. “If you're that curious - Ruxin is just over six centuries, so he's at an age where his instinct for leaving offspring is strong. Unlike my father, whose magnificence permeates the land, melding with its leylines, Ruxin's obligations are physical, like ours.” “Wait," Jun snorted. "Your kind goes ‘musth’?” “Are you inferring that I am an Oliphant?” The Ash Mage broke out in a terrific cold sweat. “That was humour,” Ayxin assured her partner. “An Oliphant is no match for me. I could kill one right now if I wished. As for musth, I am too young for that and Ryxi is a sexless albino eel, so no, not all of our kind are subject to the instinct of procreation." "Then..." "For a true-blood like Ruxin, there is a period between the fifth and tenth century where our bodies mature; after that, high-dragons tend to shed their mortal coil. It's an uncertain time for an adult, for most of them will perish during these five centuries.” “Now that IS news to me.” Jun was all ears. Ayxin's casual banter wasn't anything like the sort one would find in a textbook. He was learning mythic physiology straight from a dragon’s mouth. “Dragons are some of the most powerful beings on the Material Plane, so how is it that so few high-dragons exist?” “Eaten by one another.” Ayxin shrugged attractively. “Going musth, or as we say, _vaeri di tobor vur marfedelom_ , serves as ritual and trial. Before ascension, our kind needs to mate. Before we can mate, they need a lair. The bigger the lair, the more likely you’re able to convince another dragon to submit. For true dragons, the rule is one drake, one mountain." “So in Burma-” “Assuming Ruxin is there,” Ayxin emphasised on the inferred ‘if’. “He would need to build a lair, an impressive one at that since our Father is a true ancient. After which he would wait for a competitor, ideally a pureblood, then best them.” “And then?” Jun felt he may yet regret his curiosity. Ayxin’s eye formed two smiling half-moons. “Then they get industrious, as we shall,” she snickered. “Or Ruxin enjoys a nourishing meal. The consumption of other dragons equal in age can bolster our power.” Jun’s mouth hung half-open. “I am starting to see why there are so few dragons.” “True dragons. There’s plenty of bastards.” Ayxin frowned as her mind brushed upon a particularly diluted bastard she had accosted in May. “Most creatures would be happy to submit.” “I am assuming there’s a downside to mothering demi-Gods.” “There is. For a mortal, gestation is rare without external aid, and bearing the child or egg to term is even rarer.” “Your mother-” Jun suddenly bit his tongue, realising his curiosity had gone a step too far. “When she served as father's Divine Vessel, my mother was cared for by the best royal physicians the Dynasty had to offer.” The mirth in Ayxin's replies faded. When she next spoke, her tone was indifferent. “Your niece should be perfectly fine - so long as she doesn’t play the fool and pull the Tyrant’s whiskers.” "Gwen, staying out of trouble?" A flashback of Huangshan flashed across Jun’s mind’s eye. When Ayxin had caught him in her pocket dimension, he had fully expected Gwen to run. Instead, he had to extract Caliban from Golo’s rectum before it ate Ayxin’s brother from the inside out. Straining the limits of his imagination, he tried his best to imagine Gwen NOT tearing off the Tyrant’s whiskers with an ‘HA!’ “Ayxin,” Jun implored with a hint of desperation. “What did Golos mean when he said he’d save her thrice?”

As an Orange Zone, Yancheng formed the largest prefecture in the Jiangsu Frontier, bordering Lianyungang to the north and Nantong to the south, with the Yellow Sea marking most of its coastal waters. Like most of China’s coastal cities, the region had existed since antiquity. It's etymology - consisting of ‘salt’ and ‘city’, was derived from the region's abundance of sea salt. When a nation as large as China needed salt for internal consumption and export, it could afford no half measures when building its coastal salterns. During the summer season, hundreds-of-thousands of shallow brine pools dotted Yancheng’s shores, fed by ten-thousand channels extending twenty kilometres inland. During high tide, a torrent of concentrated sea water, dredged up by undersea currents, deposited millions of litres of brackish-brine, attracting innumerable Halophilic monsters desperate for the white-pink mounds. Once inland, the beasts were met by half a million labourers, their skin split and encrusted, their blood and sweat mingling into the crystalline mass. From Yancheng’s ISTC station, Fudan’s 2004 IIUC team trekked its way from the splendour of the city into the mud-strewn countryside, the asphalt below them changing from tar, to gravel and finally to crushed stones long shattered into to jagged shards by haulier-trucks. The city’s labourers, hard boiled by the relentless summer sun, raised their half-blinded eyes to regard the troop of fair-skinned Mages making way toward the coast, their mouths grinning with delight, revealing tea-stained teeth yellow with age. Though their life wasn’t easy by any means, Yancheng was a generous city. Thanks to the District General's abundant investments, their children attended school, with those who excelled receiving an opportunity to attend the civil exams in Shanghai or Beijing. For families whose lineage produced a Mage, they would receive an apartment in Yancheng's inner Districts, and their progeny was free to attend the state's Spellcraft academy. Thus enchanted with friendly faces, the workers waved at the intrusion of pallid bodies so dissimilar to their own, dreaming of one day seeing their scions returning in similar triumph. "Don't you think the people here are so much friendlier?" Gwen waved back. "You don't see happy peasants like this back in outer Shanghai." "Life expectancy is about mid-forty here." Richard gave his cousin a gentle pat on the head. "It's an Orange Zone, the mana here mangles their bodies, but the salt is worth much more than the lives of NoMs." "Oh..." Her hands suddenly felt like lead. "But you know," Richard wisely observed. "Better here than D-109!" 'Klang!' "Panzerschreck!" "Kree! Kreeee-" The flailing, armoured horse-shoe crab ruptured, spraying bright blue-ichor across the salt. Built like a tank and impervious to low-tier magic, it was the thing's own misfortune for choosing Lulan as its opponent. "Well done!" "Good work Lulu!" The group appraised Lulan's demonstration. As a part of their journey across the salterns, the members each displayed their spells on the occasional monster that barred their way. Watching the briny-blue blood, Gwen raised a hypothesis. “Do you think it’ll work?” She licked her parched lips, tasting the salt in the air. “Salt is Negative energy and Water, right?” “I doubt it.” Richard shook his head. "I don’t think Caliban will gain Affinity that way. Even assuming these Monsters have traces of Negative Energy, your Affinity is too high and theirs too low.” “So you’re saying there’s a chance?” Gwen grinned. “You could try.” Her cousin shrugged. “I’d imagine anything alive isn't going to be rich in naturally-occurring Negative Energy…” Realising Dick was right, Gwen cursed her cousin’s astute observation. “Gwen.” A Message spell blossomed beside her ear. “I see something.” Above the group, choosing to be alone, Kitty had volunteered to be their spotter. When the girl thrice refused Gwen's invitation, Gwen deployed Maymyint to act on her behalf. Over dinner at Mayuree's apartment, Gwen had sat the three of them down to air old grievances. Meekly, the Mage from Kunlun had offered an apology, going so far as to drop to her knees before Gwen forcibly picked her up by the shoulder. According to Kitty, it was Gwen’s closeness to Mayuree, which she thought was undeserving, that was the root cause of their antagonism. As for Gwen’s part, she wholeheartedly forgave her IIUC companion. “It’s a Salt Fish,” Kitty updated her observation. “Big one, too.” “Alright, everyone-” Bai raised a hand. “Who wants to take this one?” “Me! I would.” Gwen pointed to a comically salt-encrusted Caliban. “I think you guys should get used to seeing Caliban eat.” Both Jiro and Rene moved up keenly, wondering what new nasty surprises Caliban had in store. They had already seen plenty through their practice duels, but her Void Worm had a knack for surprises. “As a forewarning,” Gwen informed the others. “Keep a comfortable distance until you get used to it.” “SHAAAA!” Caliban burped, returning to its Master briefly before once again turning invisible. “Mao, that was something else.” Anita hugged the shivering Eunae. “What a horrible way to die.” “I hear you.” Jiro closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. “So that’s the spider-form?” “Yes.” Gwen landed beside her team. “If we get a chance, I’ll show everyone Cali’s stag-form. It’ll take most of my vitality though, so fingers crossed we run into plenty of biomass.” “How was the bug?” Richard enquired. The ‘bug’, as it were, was a gigantic silver-fish encrusted with hardened salt from head to toe. Creatures such as these were usually passive, choosing to hide inside its armour while it demolished Yancheng’s salt stockpiles. Not bothering with penetrating its carapace, Gwen had Caliban's spider-form flip the thing over with its scything claws, then devoured it from the middle, where its exoskeleton was the softest. “Could be better.” Gwen swallowed the tingling pleasure with a poker face. The bug registered a three on the Nephres' Scale. “The vitality barely made up what I had to spend.” “They process salt for a living and stay virtually stationary,” Richard sniggered. “Not much vigour is needed to live the life of a salted fish.” “Hahaha…” “Pufft!” The rest of the party burst into laughter at Richard’s wordplay. ‘Salted Fish,’ as it were, was slang for a no-good-lay-about. “Kitty, how far to our destination?” “Two hours across the salterns, or twenty minutes if we fly.” “Well, ladies and gents?” Gwen turned to her party. “More sight-seeing? Or shall we get to our lodging?” “Two more hours of salt flats?” Rene brushed a fine powder of salt from her jet-black hair. “No thanks.” “Let’s get going then.” Bai lifted into the air. Of the party, Richard, Jiro and Eunae were the only ones who did not possess the actual Flight spell. Richard himself could manage thanks to Lea, though his flight made for disastrous dog-fighting. Jiro and Eunae conversely managed through Magical Items. Of the many items banned in the competition, those granting basic 'Flight' were not among that number. One by one, the group fell into a V formation. “Eek!” Eunae shrieked as they passed an assemblage of several hundred bronze-skinned workers. Gwen and the others halted in alarm, only to burst out in laughter. Eunae was flying through the air with her legs clamped and her hands tightly pulling against the hem of her skirt. As a result, she was having trouble bracing her forward momentum. “No one forewarned Eunnie?” Gwen turned to her peers suspiciously. She was wearing full-length spats, Lulan and Anita wore their military cargos, while Rene and Kitty wore jeans. “I completely forgot.” Anita grinned, smacking her thin lips. “I mean, Eunae's charming enough to eat.” “Muuuu!” Eunae growled, shaking a fist. The threat couldn't have been more adorable. The others each expressed varying degrees of mirthfulness. “I have a pair of pants you can use.” Their Captain handed over an impressive pair of men’s trousers. “She can use it as a tube dress, Captain!” Jiro hollered at the ballooning cargo pants Tei offered the girl. Compared to Gwen, their Korean compatriot was indeed a pocket-sized pixie. “She’ll be blown away!” “Bloody oath you guys.” Gwen snorted, exasperated by the good-natured teasing; happy that for once, she wasn't the ass on display. “If that's the case, Eunnie and I will go ahead.” Gwen scoped up Eunae by the waist and her legs, then shot forward with a burst of speed, gesturing for the others to follow. “Trust me. They can't see anything at this speed!” The Kirin sorceress tightened her grip. "Wait!" Eunae panicked, but it was too late. "To infinity and beyond!" The team arrived at Lanyan Manor, exhausted from the constant acceleration. Long distance flying not only relied on concentration and mana pool but exhausted one’s physical constitution. Velocity wise, at a reasonable pace, a flyer without Air affinity could manage twenty-odd kilometres per hour. Conversely, a full-paced hustle burning mana reserves could reach eighty-odd kilometres an hour. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Of the flight group, it was Kitty who reigned supreme, but none could come close to Gwen’s lightning-trailed, full-throttle afterburners. Besides the team, Eunae sat to one side, wild-haired and wide-eyed, blowing bubbles through her lips. “Does hair-preserving magic exist?” Gwen pulled at her wind-tunnelled hair, dismayed at its stubborn resistance. After a few discouraging attempts, she tied off a bushy ponytail. “I am sure there are coiffure spells out there.” Anita’s gelled crop remained unsullied by their hasted travel. “Or magic items made for that purpose.” “Or something like an aerodynamic barrier.” Gwen picked out a bug from her shirt. If she had been slower with her Shield, Eunae would have copped one in the grill. “I’d hate to imagine what would have happened if I had my mouth open; it's not every day I have Eunae with me.” "Hahaha..." Exhausted chortles addressed her ill humour. The District they now arrived in was Dafeng, one of the original townships belonging to the Clan of Fung. An ancient town, the region remained rich with fauna, producing all kinds of exotic fare for Shanghai’s insatiable markets. According to Senior Bai, there existed a legend long ago that beneath Dafeng was a Dragon Vein, re-classified in the 21st century as a ley-line. As an Orange Zone Frontier, Dafeng was additionally famous for producing a unique fauna called the Mirage Deer, or ‘Milu’, a chimeric monster with ‘the tail of a donkey, the head of a horse, the hoofs of a cow, the antlers of a deer.' Most famously, the Milu held within their body a scent-gland which could substitute for ambergris. Across Yancheng, the local population worshipped the Milu, long associated with the legend of the Dragon-vein. To many, an abundance of these benign and skittish creatures indicated the region was safe from disaster or invasion. “Famously,” Senior Bai explained as the servants brought the Mages drinking water in silver vessels. “The Communists hunted the Milu for their musk-gland, said to possess a scent that induced heavenly hallucinations. As a result, the CCP almost lost Dafeng because of a local rebellion. It took the public execution of the local Secretary to pacify the District.” “Not a Purge?” Gwen’s response was one of surprise. “Dafeng’s production of salt had to be maintained.” Bai pointed to the distant salt fields. “And it was Patriarch Shen from the Nantong Fungs who delivered the verdict.” Such is life, Gwen observed. This far out from the city, the CCP’s centralised command structure gave way to regional allegiances. Likewise, only by monopolising the natural resources of the Jiangsu Frontier could the Clan of Fung swallow a project as ambitious as Tonglv canal. "We're ready for you, ma'am," the team's NoM housekeeper, a womanly matron, informed them with a bow. "Please forgive our tardiness." "No worries, it's our fault for arriving ahead of schedule," Gwen apologised. The estate Fudan rented was a property volunteered by the Fungs, a fully furnished, 12th-century abode sitting at the saddle of a low-rising hill. To its rear, a vast bamboo forest swayed, gently brushing its whitewashed walls of chalk. From the left side, the manor's frontage offered a view of the salt plains, while to the right, untouched marshland kissed the county of Shenyang, just visible on the horizon. Each of the contestants had a room to themselves, though this far from the mana-grid and the waterworks, the ancient estate lacked modern amenities. Not keen on the compost bathrooms the NoMs had dug out at the property’s rear, Gwen offered her Portable Habitat to her team, setting up the portal on the central dais of the courtyard as to provide hot showers and flushing toilets. “Woa, fancy!” Rene, who came from a military family, was suitably impressed. “How the hell did you get your hand on one of these? Portable Habitats are restricted military hardware.” “She’s Secretary Song’s granddaughter,” Jiro reminded the Magma Mage. Already, the two fire-oriented casters had grown close. “What’s a few trips to the surplus storage under the CCP Tower?” “Ha.” Gwen chose not to expose the origin of her pilfered Portable Habitat. “At any rate, here’s the glyph key. It’ll change every 24 hours, so Message me if you’re locked out.” For the next three weeks, leaving from Lanyan Manor, the students ventured out in twos and threes, courting trouble. In laymen’s terms, it meant the students formed small hunting parties to roam the countryside, visiting counties, speaking to the village heads, finding Monsters to murder and warrens to clear. As summer brought the peak season for the production of sea salt, a deluge of Salt Fish, Ripper Claws, White Hoppers, Marsh Worms and the occasional Saltmire Merfolk threw themselves toward mountainous piles of gleaming pink crystals. Day by day, pair by pair, rapport grew between her teammates. Unsurprisingly, the others took an immediate liking to Richard, whose experience as an Adventurer brought respect and acknowledgement. Lulan likewise enjoyed working with Rene and Jiro, finding accord through their like-minded personalities. Curiously, ever since her beating, Kitty had taken up talking with Lulan as well, making Gwen wonder if Kitty too had a masochistic streak. On the matter of tactics and teamwork, Senior Bai had asked Gwen to practice on the others her mastery of Dimension Door. Now unrestrained by regulations against Teleportation within the city limits, they enacted the torturous training known as ‘how many DDs can you travel with Gwen before seeing rainbows’. Thus far, Lulan held the record at twenty-two casts with ten-second intervals, while Eunae managed just five before she painted the pavement. In between errands, Gwen engaged the group in ice-breaking exercises from her old world. Everything from Truth and Lie, where each member shared two ‘truths’ and a ‘lie’ about themselves, to Spellcraft Survival, where each team of three contestants had to scramble for a stack of spell-cards, then explain how they would survive a Black Zone using only these spells. Additionally, she had been busy preparing a secret surprise of her own - the creation of a memorable experience with which to conceive an empathic resonance between her teammates, engendering sympathy and camaraderie. Her rationale was simple - a robust sense of fellowship was necessary to offset the conflicts of interest that may soon be in play. That was why, with the help of Magister Walken, his winged serpent, as well as Ariel VR, she tracked down a herd of Milu. From above, the chimeric creatures indeed appeared as their moniker suggested - combining donkey, horse, cow and the massive antlers of a deer into a single animal. From the scale-patterned fur on the beast’s back, Gwen suspected that they were diluted Draconic-fauna. The problem was how she was going to drive a herd of these creatures back toward Lanyan Manor. “Eeee!” Ariel offered a solution. “You can?” She was surprised by the clarity of her Familiar’s empathic communiqué. Her creature was becoming more and more intelligent every day, evidence that Walken and Dean Luo’s training was paying off. “EE!” Ariel assured her. “Alright, here goes.” She willed a volley of draconic-essence into her Familiar. Above the Milu, Ariel materialised, shedding its invisibility. When the Milu readied their long limbs for a hasted escape, her Kirin let loose a burst of Dragon-fear. As one, the Milu froze. “EEE!” Ariel pawed through the air. “Eeeer?” the leading stag bleated, expelling the contents of its bladder. “EE! EE!” “Eeeer?!” “EE!” “Eeeer!” Half a kilometre away, Gwen wordlessly watched the spectacle through Ariel’s eyes. Did deer speak? She asked herself. Could venison feel? “Eee!” Ariel informed her it was safe to approach. “Dimension Door!” Three teleports later, she was among the mystical Milu, smelling an awful mouldy dankness that only carpets fermenting for decades in a swamp could produce. How were the Milu were prized for perfume again? “EE!” Ariel’s resplendent horns sparked. One of the Milu turned away from Gwen, then without warning, sprayed her with something from its anal glands. “Ari-!” Gwen burst into tears. She had not put up a shield because that would have been the last she'd see of the Milu. More importantly, her mouth was open. “Oh…” In the next moment, a heavenly scent encompassed her sinus. The fragrance was indescribable, as though a masterful perfume maker had distilled rosewood and sandalwood, bergamot and lavender, together with all the wildflowers on the marsh into a musky concoction. “Oh my.” The fragrant was so heady as to make her momentarily dazed. “Milu No.5?” Now that Gwen was marked and scented, the creatures visibly relaxed. “Eee!” “Right now?” “EE!” Heeding her creature’s command, Gwen channelled a mote of Almudj’s Essence into her forefinger. The leading Milu approached, gingerly sniffed her glowing green mote on her palm, then lapped her hand clean. “Eeeeer!” the buck leapt into the air, taking flight for a dozen meters, then landed with a wet thunk. “That’s good, eh?” She was beginning to see Ariel’s plan. “Gather up, plenty for everyone! You wanna eat, you gotta work!” A minute later, she was surrounded by a dozen Milu, furiously licking away, filling the swampland air with their scented blessings. Who'd have thought? Gwen sighed - that one day she too would be a Disney Princess. Up above, a discrete observational distance away, with the manner of an antagonist warlock stepfather, Eric Walken hovered with an active suite of diagnostic magic, an eye in the sky scrutinising his ward below. At first, he thought Gwen had wanted to hunt illicit game to feed her friend, or perhaps bolster Caliban with a new form. What he had in turn witnessed was the strangest thing, a girl feeding monstrous creatures viridescent essence while they furiously muzzled, licked and nudged her to and fro. "Essence!" With a bell-beat of fluttering wings, his Coatl descended, seeing no reason why it should resist its impulsive desire for the emerald essence. Weren’t the Milu supposed to be rare and noble, skittish and impossible to capture? Walken scoffed at the fawning venison below. Why was it that with Gwen, nothing could be normal? On the last night of the training camp, the team's two leaders extracted the ingredients for a dumpling feast. “I had it packed before we left,” Gwen boasted with self-satisfaction. “They’re from Yang’s, on Gouding Road. All we have to do is make it!" Under a Milky Way unsoiled by light pollution from the city, sweltering beside boiling pots, the Fudan 2004 IIUC team folded dumplings and made chit-chatter, laughing at one another's failed attempts at wrapping dough. Kitty, Anita, Eunae and Richard ate their pork-n-cabbage dumpling as is, while Gwen, Lulan and Anita preferred chilli and vinegar. On the far right, Rene and Jiro huffed over the crushed remains of ghost-pepper, audibly ventilating from the chilli oil. “Tei, you’re going to die,” Gwen observed. Senior Tei wasn't good with chilli. “Eunae,” Bai implored their Cleric seriously. “Drop me a Revitalise.” "Revitalise!" Eunae acceded as Bai delivered another morsel to his lips. “Ah-,” Bai lamented, closing his eyes. “That hits the spot; I am going to miss this taste in a few years.” Nodding sympathetically, Gwen topped up the supply of rice wine, taking the opportunity to deliver a well-timed speech. “Friends, teammates, comrades! Lend me your ears!” She raised a shimmering glass, its surface brimming with prohibitively expensive Mao-tai. The rest of her team likewise raised their cups. “Within a week, we shall venture from Shanghai into Burma, taking our first step toward the International Inter-University Competition! Therefore, I would like to offer a toast - to us, to Fudan, and to the future!” “Ganbei!” A clatter of glasses echoed through the night. “I believe I speak for many of us when I say that our prospects are daunting. From our familiar campus, we shall venture into the blue-dark of battlefields unknown. But - in our endeavour, let us know no fear; for we set sail beyond Shanghai's shores for fame, fortune and friends. As we step into each new continent, facing enemies hostile and competitors fierce, let us know no doubt; for each new challenge, difficult as they shall be - is an opportunity.” "Hear-hear!" "Well said!" “Thank you," Gwen's voice reached a new crescendo. "For all of us, the IIUC is a detour on our Path of Spellcraft, we take this road, not for ease - but for potential. By stepping where no leaf had been trodden black, we shall employ the best of our energies so that when we emerge the victors, we shall have exercised our greatest potential!” "Toast!" "Drink!" "Another!" "As for our endeavour - I am reminded of Sir George Mallory, a Magister who perished mapping Everest. Once, a detractor demanded of Sir Mallory, ‘Why are you doing this?’ The Magister's response has since stuck with me. ‘Because it’s there,’ he had said, 'why try, if not for the tallest peak?'” “Well.” Gwen raised another thimble. “For the spring of our youth, the IIUC is our peak, and together, hand in hand, arm in arm, we are going to reach for the top! TOAST!” “For the IIUC!” “For us!” “Gānbēi!” “Ariel!” Gwen sounded out internally. “Do it now!” “EE!” Without warning, a viridescent Ariel lit up the night. “Oooh!” “It’s Ariel!” “What’s it doing up there?” “Barbanginy!” Gwen allowed the channelled mana to flow through her Conjuration conduits, piling on the collated ethanol she'd drank all night. An emerald halo erupted across the starry vista, forming a sudden Aurora Australis as Almudj’s blessing poured into the essence infused Elemental Sphere, adjusted for maximum displacement. When eventually her breathless teammates looked down from the celestial spectacle, they were met with yet another miracle. “Mao! Milu! Senior Bai! It’s the Milu!” Rene called out, spilling her drink. “Ancestors!” Even Tei Bai felt his jaws unhinge. From the hillside, a dozen Milu rode toward them, encircling the young Mages who stood to receive them. “What an omen!” Anita touched a hand to her lips. “I can’t believe it!” “A blessing!” Jiro looked up at Ariel, then at Gwen. “From the goddess of victory herself.” Bathed in the emerald light from above, Richard reached Gwen’s side. “Thank you.” He embraced her in an uncharacteristic act of piety. “I never thought we’d come so far, so quickly.” “Dick.” Their fingers touched. “I want to thank you as well. Without your support, I may not have gotten here at all.” Lulan was next, though the girl was more direct, opting straight away for hugging Gwen tightly and digging her face into Gwen’s bosom. “Kitty?” Gwen opened her arms, indicating to the wide-eyed straggler. “Mia’s not here, and I’ve got a vacancy.” The Ice Mage’s lowered her head, the smile that had just touched her face suddenly fading from her lips. Rigidly, the petite sorceress turned away. “Kitty, don't play the coy maiden. You know you want it!” Rene, mistaking Kitty’s body language for bashfulness, took the girl by the arm and pulled her unwillingly closer. “Me too!” Jiro, incited by the friendly atmosphere, pushed Rene and Kitty into Gwen’s arms. "Anita, come on!" "Ah, whatever." The stoic Senior Bai let himself go, bringing Eunae, who was desperately trying to reign Luyi away from the Milu. Soon, trapping an asphyxiating Kitty inside a human sardine ball, the team huddled for the first time. At Ariel’s command, the group of Milu approached. “Shut your eyes!” Gwen called out, though her warning was drowned out by the crush of bodies. “Close your mouths!” One by one, the deer turned their fluffy tails toward the group, then gave the soon to be traumatised humans the benedictions for which the Mirage Deer were famous.

“This whole ordeal sounds dodgy,” Gwen said drily, forewarned by Mayuree to be wary of prophecies. “Yet, stranger things have happened to the both of us,” Jun observed his niece, likewise unsure of what to make of his draconic partner’s ambiguous foreshadowing. “I suppose. Let’s recap.” Gwen had been taking notes on a slate. “The Tyrant may or may not be Ayxin’s minimum five-hundred-year-old brother, a pure-blooded Thunder Dragon with a raging libido. Likewise, Ruxin was last known to have travelled to Mandalay, the old Burmese royal capital, with the express purpose of banditry, nest-construction and dragon-on-dragon insemination.” “That's…” Jun smacked his lips, raising both brows. “Surprisingly concise.” “Also, according to Ayxin, I may be saved by Golos.” “Not her exact words.” Jun furrowed his brows. “Her exact words were, ‘Golos shall act to prevent Gwen from assured self-destruction, as well as intervene should her life be in imminent threat of annihilation.’” “Annihilation!” Gwen marvelled at the choice of the Draconian’s diction. “What am I? A flatworm? So if I am only half dead, or enslaved, or trapped in a cave or mildly dismembered, Golos is going to leave me alone?” “You could interpret it like that.” Jun broke out in cold sweat. “I feel a lot less confident now that you’ve clarified the Yinglong’s condition.” “You know what I think?” Gwen held her uncle's hand, feeling the clammy skin of his palm. “I think the Yinglong is tempting me to act rashly, thinking that Golos will be there as a fail-safe - when in reality, I could be in all sorts of trouble without Golos needing to step in. For example, Golos can’t come into Shanghai, but I could go right now into the lobby, fire off a dozen Void spells and get booked into Tianlanqiao’s stasis bay. When you think of it like that, this 'save your ass thrice' business is pretty suspect.” “Please don’t say that.” Jun eyed the security partition nervously. “The walls have eyes.” “Just a hypothesis.” Gwen grinned. “Don’t worry, Uncle. I know how to take care of myself. I’ve got a whole team with me, and Magister Walken, whose interest and mine coincide, at least for now.” “Nonetheless, a scorpion is a scorpion,” Jun sagely acknowledged. “Betrayal is in his nature.” “Oh, but Eric's my arachnid until we dismiss our common goal,” Gwen assured her uncle. “But of course, I’ll be sure to watch my back. Or at least Richard will.” “His roots go deep, within the Grey Faction I mean, and with the Mageocracy…” “I’ll be careful, Uncle. Don’t forget, Gunther remains a hard counterspell for a disgraced Magister like Walken.” “I am just worried about you.” “I know.” “… Qīn’s expecting in three weeks,” Jun changed the subject. “I think Hai would be happy if you were to send him a Message, you know - a sign.” She bit her lip, though it was hard to work up a fury when her uncle Jun had just given her a stout shot of paternal care and security. Despite everyone in her family coming out to see her off, her parents remained absent. “Alright.” She nodded. As much as she wanted to worry about Walken’s ulterior motives, Ayxin’s vague revelations and her father’s new child, what she should be focusing on was getting to Yangon in one piece, survive the meeting with her Asian regional competitors, then work her way to London to compete for fame, fortune and Evee. “I shall - should I do it now?” “At your leisure.” Jun coughed guiltily. “But play nice.” “I am always nice,” she replied sourly. "When am I not nice?" “Don't sound like such a step-mother,” Jun remarked with a pearl of wry wisdom. “You’re too young for that.” “Am I not an old soul?” “Well-” Jun was reminded of the secret they shared. “I suppose there’s that.” “It’s fine. I'll give Hai my benediction.” Jun patted her hand in return. “I should go. The others are waiting for you.” He opened his arms, and the two shared a hug, with Gwen tagging him with a peck on the cheek. “Good luck with your egg making, Uncle. You have my benediction.” Jun gave her an exasperated glance. “And watch your health - they say too much Dragon isn’t good for your kidneys. Let it come naturally.” “Get going, you rascal.” Jun gave her a phantom kick in the buttocks. Leaving her flustered uncle with a wink, she returned to the lobby of the ISTC. “Gwen! You’re back!” Dean Luo and the others gathered outside were already knee-deep in the media pit. “Here.” Gwen materialised the signatures Jiro and Rene had requested, as well as additions so that no one else was left out. “Personalised and fresh from the Ash Bringer himself, as requested.” “I’ll treasure it!” Jiro beamed. “I am thankful!” “Thanks.” Rene reverently swept her eyes over the scrawled pictogram. “I am going to send this back to my Patriarch!” The power of the CCP’s propaganda machine was nothing to scoff at, Gwen noted internally. Not even Gunther, a Mage capable of shit-canning a Leviathan the size of a suburb, was instantly recognisable in the middle of a street. Comparatively, when Jun intercepted the team at the ISTC lobby earlier, Rene and Jiro’s eyes almost fell out of their sockets. “Alright, everyone here? Let’s get a good angle in.” The Dean motioned for the CCVC-1 crew to begin. Sensing an opportunity, Luo had brought with him a Vid-Cast crew from the state’s propaganda office. The group of young Mages, each arriving at the ISTC separately, had bought their families with them. For Gwen, this included her grandparents, her brother, as well as Mina and Tao. Except for Lulan, who had only Kusu, Eunae, who had no family in Shanghai and Kitty who came alone, the rest were inundated with well-wishes from loved ones. First came the Dean’s grandiose introduction, after which a suitably large assemblage of rubbernecking spectators added to the already crowded lobby. “We have full confidence in you lot breaking through the Asian round,” Dean Luo informed the youngsters, winking at the Lumen-recorders. “So say something for the future broadcast!” As Captain, it was Tei's duty to begin. “Comrades, greetings. I am Tei Bai, the Captain of the 2004 Fudan IIUC team. I want to make our country, our university and our people proud by showing the world that our nation is ready to join world leaders in the development of Spellcraft. Father, mother, Patriarch Wuyue, please accept my most sincere gratitude for making me who I am today." Tei dropped to his knees and kowtowed toward a grim-faced man wearing a matching outfit in grey and black, standing amidst a small contingent of Clanners from Taishan, eliciting a round of appreciation from the crowd. Next was Gwen, who presented an entirely different image to the sombre, funeral-director mien of Tei Bai with her sleeveless dress and tender complexion. With a mote of Essence flashing her irises emerald, she gave the lumen-recorder a bright and vivid smile before delivering her carefully worded portion. “Hi everyone, I am Gwen Song, Vice-Captain of the team. I would like to thank the city of Shanghai, the knowledge bestowed upon me by Fudan, and the generosity of the Dean in offering us this rare and wonderful opportunity. Over there are two people to whom I am deeply indebted, without whom none of this would have happened. Nainai and Yeye, please accept my most sincere gratitude!” The crew instantly panned toward the delighted expressions of Gwen’s grandparents as well as the parents of the other students who had come to the ISTC station to fare their scions well. With a twist of her dancer's figure, Gwen skipped between two lumen-recorders to embrace both of her grandparents. The crowd’s applause exploded. What could be more heartwarming, more picturesque than a scene of filial piety such as this? As for the girl’s parents, who knew? It wasn’t uncommon in this day and age to have a young protégé whose parents had given their all to the state. “Take care, Gwen.” Her babulya kissed her on the cheeks. “Did Jun say his piece?” “Yes, Babulya, I’ve got everything I need.” “Gwen, do not fail-” Guo remained as stoic as ever, his seriousness exacerbated by the presence of the propaganda crew. "-and be careful." “I will, Grandfather.” Gwen bowed. “Percy!” Percy tried to hide behind their grandfather but was dragged out by his sister to face the glaring crystalline eyes of the lumen-recorders. “This is my brother, Percy, future IIUC contestant.” Gwen hugged her sibling from behind. “He will be greater than even myself in the future; I just know it!” Percy blushed from the immodest and outlandish boast, drawing laughter from around the room. “Sorry for missing your matches, bud.” Gwen hugged her brother close, pressing their faces together as the CCVC crew moved on to their next target. “As compensation, I’ll bring back something nice.” She remained with her family while the rest of the crew followed her suit, choosing to stand with their relatives to maintain the motif of filial piety. When the crew got to Lulan, she instead retrieved Gwen, making her doubly flustered as the Sword Mage heaped praise on her saviour, aided by a grateful Kusu, choking like a misty-eyed father sending their child off to the first day of school. Richard was no better, again redirecting back toward Gwen. Thankfully, her cousin spent at least a small part of his interview leaving an on-air message for his parents, informing them that he had a home ready for them and that by the end of the IIUC, he may have enough CCs to bring them to Shanghai. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. When finally the interviewer reached the reluctant duo of Eunae and Kitty, both stammered a few lines about being thankful to Fudan, then clammed up, uncomfortable with such an extroverted display of egotistical self-promotion. For Eunae, Gwen suspected the girl’s participation would likely be negatively received, at least until they thrashed the Korean teams, making Eunae the sole object of worship for the nationalistic peninsular’s prideful citizens. As for Kitty, she could only presume that the ordinarily quiet girl loathed the idea of whoring herself out. “Mayuree, Miss Maymyint, I am bringing Gwen Song! I am coming for you!” The Ice Mage’s stalwart finish came as a pleasant surprise, and Gwen couldn’t help but give Kitty a righteous thumbs-up. When finally the CCVC crew came full circle, the team formed behind the Dean and presented the universal symbol for cringeworthiness - extending their arms and forming a V with their fingers - before finish up at the entrance to the ISTC’s inner chamber. “GOOD LUCK!” “FAREWELL!” “SAFE RETURNS!” The family and friends of the contestants waved one last time; then with a synchronised bow, the Fudan 2004 IIUC team was away. Unlike the ISTC station at Singapore, Gwen’s first port of entry into Shanghai, China's Inter-City Teleportation Circles shared identitcal algorithms, likewise manufactured with matching metrics to reduce wavelength fluctuation. Without so much as a single Eunae kneeling over to paint rainbows all over the silvery glyphs, the team arrived at Chengdu, where they would meet up with the other Chinese Team picked for Myăma. “I’ve just received the news.” Walken joined the group as they gathered in Chengdu ISTC's lobby. “Your remaining competitors are Kyoto University and Seoul University.” “We’re not against Tokyo?” Tei took in a breath of cold air. “Mao’s tomb— Kyoto, we’re in for a tough bout.” The rest of the team exchanged uncertain glances. Within China's nine leading research institutes, only three Chinese universities ranked high enough in the Asian Regional academic rankings to issue teams for the IIUC. Of the Group of Twenty in Greater Asia, Fudan barely scraped past the finishing line at 19th, Jiantong at 13th, while Tsinghua solidly locked in 2nd or 3rd place, interchanging with their rivals from Tokyo. Peking University, though ranked 4th, had little interest in competition with the old colonial powers, emphasising instead on gatekeeping the PLA's most secretive mystical arts. “I’d say so.” Walken studied each of the team members, disdained by their dismay. “Here are your current matchups: Of your Asia qualifier group: Kyoto is ranked 1st, Seoul 9th, Jiantong 13th, and Fudan is 19th. It’s not an unusual spread, as the organisers prefer to avoid having top group match ups. When we’re on the global stage, the same dynamic will apply. For your first round, Fudan, a rank 154th university, will pair with competitors in the top hundreds, or whatever is closest, assuming any of them has made it that far.” “Well, its no surprise we’re the underdog!” Richard butted in. “That’s how I like it! That’s how we do it in Australia!” “That’s right.” Gwen pumped her fists. “In Australia, the underdog never loses! Fact! Nine times out of ten, a million in one shot taken by an underdog will succeed!” Her teammates giggled nervously, evidently doubting their Vice-Captain's mathematical abilities. “Ho! FUDAN!” Before she could continue, a thunderclap resounded across the vaulted ceiling of the ISTC station. A second team had arrived, and they were now making their way across the interior, awaiting transfer to the international terminal of the Chengdu ISTC array. It was their old rival, Jiantong. Senior Bai glanced at Gwen, cautioning his lieutenant before the two moved up to greet their counterparts. Unlike the Fudan students, Jiantong has been long affiliated with the Communist Party’s Shanghai branch, with their best and brightest graduating into secretarial posts as well as military officerships inside the PLA Tower. As one, Jiantong marched on Fudan's chaotic formation, neat in their dark navy uniforms, paired with pale blue collars and black military chinos. Unsurprisingly, the most eye-catching aspect of their team jersey was a bright red iconography depicting a hammer, anvil and sword, alongside spell-books, forming the circular logo for Jiantong, symbolising craft, knowledge and military might, each in equal measure. Conversely, Fudan wasn’t nearly so strict on uniforms, which combined with its intake of international students, was why it was famous for its “Fudan Flowers”. The Captain of Jiantong, Gwen noted, was a bloke with a military crop, a square jaw, and dark, hawkish eyes that gave him an intimidating disposition, like a man waiting for the perfect moment to deploy a shiv. Behind the militant looking young man was another with the face of a schemer, scrunched and rat-like, a born villain. Just from the motes of pale mana drifting from the man’s garb, Gwen could tell he was an Illusionist and a high-tier one at that. Though not wanting to judge a book by its cover, the man's appearance had nonetheless forced her to do a double-take. Thanks to planned pairings and generations of good breeding, Mages in general, especially ones with rare abilities, were rarely uncomely. Considering the position of Gwen's team and the rest of the Jiantong team, the Illusionist's unfortunate face struck her as peculiar. As the groups approached one another, her theory was validated by two exceedingly beautiful young women, both with their long hair tied up in knots, glaring past her at Lulan. “Tei Bai, Captain.” Tei extended a hand. “Gwen Song, Vice-Captain,” Gwen likewise made herself known, a little pleased that she was as tall or taller than the entirety of the Jiantong team. “Ah, the great Tei Bai, the prodigy of the Taishan Bai Clan,” the presumed Captain of the Jiantong team had introduced himself as Xiang Ying of Wutang. “We finally meet.” “Bai shixiong.” The Illusionist beside Ying bowed, interjecting before Bai could address the Jiantong Captain. “Pleased to meet you. I am Kurong Tsung from the Wutang main house.” After her Captain's turn with the duo, when Gwen moved to shake the Captain’s hand, Ying instead gave her a smile and a nod, then left her hanging. Tei was mid-bow when he caught Gwen’s awkward condition. “Is something the matter, Bai shixiong?” “Ying shidi, please return my Vice-Captain’s greetings,” Tei returned gruffly. “If shixiong wishes it, it shall be done.” The Wutang Sword Mage known as Ying then turned to Gwen, extending a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet the infamous Worm Handler.” Shocked at having been called the titillating moniker to her face, Gwen’s cheeks flushed scarlet before Ying' calloused fingers enveloped her own. Like all Sword Mages, the caster's hand possessed the stinging grit of sandpaper. Then, for some reason, the man squeezed her hand. It took Gwen a moment to realise the man wasn’t trying to cop a feel but was squeezing her fingers in the crushing sense. Bemused and in mild discomfort, Gwen winced. Ying Xiang grinned. Senior Bai’s expression grew dark, while the Illusionist’s grew mirthful. The rest of the team on either side watched their leaders dance the braggadocio fandango, anticipating what was next to come. Growing annoyed, Gwen attempted to retrieve her hand, only to find that Ying’s fingers had become a vice-grip. “Ying shidi, you are going too far.” Tei raised a not-very-polite finger, hoping Gwen wouldn't just keep Ying's hand as a souvenir. “Don’t do it, Ying. It won’t end well.” “Oh?” Ying Xiang’s gaze stabbed at Tei. “You know, I've heard some very scandalous things about your flower. Does it break your heart to see her hurt, Bai shixiong?” “That’s not what Senior Bai means.” Richard, who had been observing the ordeal, snorted out loudly. “You bloody inbred Clanners, you have no idea, do you? Go on; keep it up.” A clamour resounded from the Jiantong camp. “Well done, you’ve just insulted my whole party. What’s your name?” “Richard Huang.” Richard rested a hand against the small of Gwen's back so that an understanding passed between them. “Say, are you any good wielding a sword left-handed?” “Mr Xiang,” Gwen interjected, playing along, growing misty-eyed, waiting for the man to lower his guard. “You’re hurting me.” Suddenly, without warning, a split-second before Gwen was about to crush the man's fingers, the Sword Mage relented. “You'd be better off charming the Fungs.” Ying Xiang met her eye to eye. “A competition such as this is no place for a soft and delicate thing such as yourself. Is living the life of a princess in Nantong not thrilling enough for you?” As if confirming his Captain’s point, the rat-faced Illusionist also extended a hand for Gwen to shake. Lulan, growing furious at Jiantong’s rudeness, took a step forward, only to be halted by Richard when on the other side, two young women likewise looked as though they were keen to step forward. Gingerly, with great timidness, Gwen tended her slender white fingers and took the Illusionist’s rougher counterpart. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Worm Handler.” The Clanner known as Kurong grasped her hand as though manhandling a hock. “Oh no, Mr Tsung.” Gwen activated her Essence, locking eyes with the Jiantong Captain. “The pleasure’s all mine.” “AEEEEEEAA! A-ANCESTORS!” Kurong broke out into a sudden clamour, so much that the two young women behind him looked about ready to materialised their swords. “Y-YOU WHORE!” Ying Xiang's expression hardly changed. “You'd be better off slinking back down the sewer you birthed out of,” Gwen stated coldly, ratcheting up the pressure so that Jiantong's Vice-Captain fell to his knees, one hand caught in her vice-grip while the other futilely tried to form an Abjuration Shield. “A true competition such as this is no place for a soft and delicate stool such as yourself.” “Haha!” “Oh Gwen, that’s brilliant!” Her teammates jeered. “Hahahaha…” To Gwen's dismay, Ying Xiang began to laugh as well, paying no heed to his screeching Vice-Captain. “I like you, Miss Song. I see your moniker is no joke. You have handled Tsung shidi expertly.” Stepping back, the man bowed from the waist. “Allow me to apologise. May I please have Tsung shidi back?” With a show of generosity, Gwen returned the Illusionist to his team. “I am going to destroy you.” Kurong didn’t find the joke nearly as hilarious as his Captain. "I am terrified," Gwen hummed jovially. "No one has ever said that to me before. Look at my trembling hands." She sneered at the man’s writhing, snot-covered face, wondering if it was the inbreeding talking or if the man was indeed that arrogant. “Tsung shidi! Apologise!” Ying Xiang’s faux amicability curdled. “Do you not understand the meaning of a friendly greeting? Did Song shimei not humiliate your shameful display? How much face must you lose before you’re satisfied?” Kurong opened his mouth to speak, but a proverbial cat in the form of Gwen’s upturned lips had caught his tongue. “Bai shixiong.” Ying made a gesture with an open palm and a fist, then commanded his team to back away. “Let us continue this in Burma.” “Indeed, I look forward to it.” Bai returned a bow, then directed Gwen and his party away from the Jiantong team, who retrieved their pallid Vice-Captain. “What the hell was all that about?” Gwen inquired of Bai. “Was that guy slow in the head?” “He must be,” Richard chuckled. “Good work, Gwen.” “I am afraid the both of you have been used.” Tei sighed. “Still, it was a good show of force. No matter.” “How so?” Gwen raised a brow. She had thought her comeback worthy of an Emmy. “Ying Xiang was initially trying to bait you,” Bai explained. “If you couldn’t withstand his taunt and carelessly activated your magic, you may be in trouble with the authorities here before we even commence the match.” “But I am not stupid enough to do that,” Gwen pointed out. “He knows that now.” Bai nodded. “It's a test of your mettle. What followed was his real ploy. I should have stopped you, but I too was curious as to Ying’s intent.” “Which was?” Richard and others were now gathered around their Captain, the only true Clanner among them. “Intra-Clan Politics.” Bai lowered his voice. “All Clans have problems with succession, more so for a big sect like Wutang. Ying Xiang is a genius, a genuine prodigy, but Kurong Tsung is the favourite grandson of the current Patriarch. Just now, I suppose we just watched Ying Xiang wield the two of you against his cousin.” “Seriously?” Gwen shook out her hand, feeling dirty. "They don't give a shit about teamwork and morale?" “They do, but Ying is likely trying to cut off the gangrene first. They say in Wutang that the way of the sword is the way of ren - of people,” Senior Bai intoned. “To wield the sword is to wield the heart of lesser men, the blade: their want, the handle: their fear. A strike should not be so easily anticipated, yet the blade will cut precisely when needed.” “How mystical.” Richard appeared unconvinced. “But no more substantial than what Prince’s used to spew about the distinction that awaited when serving the Four Houses.” “Xiang shidi will prove a difficult challenge,” Bai warned his teammates. “I know you all have little sympathy for Clanners and our magic, but do not underestimate him. His is a talent that comes once in a generation.” “Yes, Captain.” “Alright, Senior Bai.” "We need your advice." The team murmured their agreements. “Good, let’s get to our hotel.” Once the other’s followed Bai from the lobby, Gwen found herself waiting for their instructor, who had been watching the whole while without so much as a peep. “Gwen.” Walken sidled beside her. “A word.” “Eric?” Gwen fell in step beside her frenemy advisor. “Your team needs a confidence boost.” Walken touched his forehead. “I can vouch for the fact that very few contestants will be capable of handling your unmitigated potential, almost none in Asia, so my first advice to you is to bolster your team's confidence. I don't think your Captain truly understands just how much terror you're capable of sowing. More poignantly, I don't think your opponents have a clear idea either.” “How am I to do that?” Gwen chuckled. “Caliban ambush?” “Oh, nothing so nefarious.” Walken eyed the Jiantong team as they sauntered away to their hotel. “I think its best to start removing obstacles and laying dominos.” “You’re saying…” Gwen’s expression grew scandalised. “Exactly saying that.” Walken’s lips grew cruel and calculating. “When we get to Yangon, there’s going to be a reception. The organisers are going to be there, and traditionally, the end of the dinner reception heralds duels between the various team’s Captains and Vice-Captains - all captured for broadcast entertainment, of course. When that happens…” “If that happens-” Gwen studied the man’s gleaming eyes. “Pick someone, anyone, and crush them. To strategise our matches to come, you need to put the fear of Gwen into them. Don’t hold back, and don’t pause for breath until your team has regained its confidence and your opponents' have turned into Christmas pudding.”

The team's modest hotel overlooked Chengdu’s CBD, its well-lit laneways a mishmash of dynastic and modern architecture. Unlike Shanghai, a young city rich with colonial facades, Chengdu had existed as a tamed Frontier since the Spring and Autumn epoch, earning the moniker of “The Country of Heaven”. Most famously, it was the seat of Liu Bei’s capital during the infamous Three Kingdoms period, a civil war that reduced China’s population from 56 Million in 150 AD to a mere 16 Million a century later, rapidly expanding the dominion of Demi-humans, spurred by a decimated Han Dynasty. Regretfully, it wasn’t possible for the students to participate in two local specialities: the first of which was hotpot by the river, and the second being a chance to consult the esoteric Xióngmāo-Ren, a group of benign demi-humans sages, for advice on spiritual cultivation. Pandas who were people? Pandering to Pandarens? Gwen could hardly keep her hands from itching. She had seen pandas in her old world, but picturing attired, talking pandas proved too preposterous. If she could meet one called Po, who could perform panda style, who also spoke like Jack Black, she would lose her mind. “Perhaps on the way back?” Richard patted her shoulder while she forlornly gazed at the giant bamboos covering the southern inclines of Tiantai Shan. “It’s not like the Pandaren are going anywhere.” "Is there such a thing as peacock-people living around here?" "What kind of question is that?" Jiro, who had also wanted to see the Pandaren, chuckled bemusedly. Richard had told him that sometimes, Gwen spoke gibberish. This was known as 'Gwenism'. The next day, following a final checkup of their gear, the Fudan group returned to the ISTC for their long-range Teleportation. Their waypoint would be the Kunming Frontier, routing through Pu’er, famous for its tea, then finally to Yangon. With all preparations complete, the group stepped onto the glowing dais. “Hold on to Eunae,” Walken advised. “I dare say Yangon's still using colonial algorithms.” Eunae paled as Anita steadied her by the shoulder. “Yangon — Mia,” Gwen implored the general air. “Here we come!” As the excessive motes of Conjuration burned off, the students were left marvelling at the marbled interior of what appeared to be a Romanesque municipal building consisting of a dozen columns surrounding a central dais where the ISTC’s scripts covered the surrounding white stone. Flanking the contestants on either side were attendants in maroon wearing silk brocade longyi, a sarong covering the lower body, paired with dark western shirts, while their faces with their caramel complexion, were white with markings made from _thanaka._ Among that number were also several young monks with saffron shawls draped over one shoulder, regarding the contestants with great curiosity. One of the young monks immediately ran forward with a bucket, meeting Eunae and Rene midway. As Gwen’s eyes took in the sight of a brand new country, the third of which she would visit after her trans-dimensional displacement, her eyes fell upon her much anticipated local confidant, flanked by her brother. There, in the middle of the two dozen or so Burmans was Mayuree in bright orange and lime, looking a treat like a citrus-pandan pudding, wearing a tube dress in brocaded silk that covered her from chin to ankle. Gwen almost burst out in laughter at the outlandish outfit, so different from Mayuree’s usual fair in Shanghai, though she nonetheless lunged forward to embrace her friend, pressing the girl against her bosom. “Mia! I’ve missed you so much!” “Gwen! Me too.” Mayuree’s body relaxed as their arms enveloped one another. “It's been forever.” “Wow, look at you.” They separated after a few seconds, with Gwen taking another look at her friend’s made up face. “You look different, somehow.” Juxtaposed against her most recent memory, Mayuree seemed older. There was a wanness to her friend’s once carefree mien, a tightness around the lip and the eyes. “We've got trouble back home,” Mayuree wryly smiled, averting her eyes. “But it’s a beautiful place as well. I can’t wait to show you everything.” “That sounds wonderful!” Gwen gave her another hug before turning to her companions. "As for your troubles, that's what I am here for." Behind her, an inch away, stood a Kitty fuming with impatience and agitation. “Ah-” Gwen made an ‘O’ with her lips. “Sorry, go ahead.” "Marong!" She turned to her next target. "Gwen," Marong stood stoic as a sentinel. "Welcome to our home." While Kitty and Mayuree caught up, Gwen introduced the rest of the team to their Diviner. “She looks nice.” Anita grinned. “Small and cute.” "Woa, a Smoke Mage!" Jiro whistled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Marong." "Likewise." Marong shook the hands of the assembly. "Is your healer going to be okay?" Eunae appeared already wasted. "Restoration!" The group's cleric resigned herself to shameful self-medication. "I am sorry..." "That's alright Eunnie." Gwen patted her head. "You'll get used to it." “Will we have time to get to know Mayuree?” Rene's attention wandered between their Diviner and the elegant decor covering the room before enquiring their advisor. Thanks to a Restoration from Eunnae, she was back on her feet. “Of course, you’ll have a week to get used to the place, its people and culture," Walken affirmed the pallid Fire Mage's enquiry. "See the sights, get to know the locals, and most importantly, get used to the weather.” “Great, thank you, sir.” Rene then turned to her companion. “Jiro, what do you make of that?” “Ho.” Jiro was already looking out the window at the verdant city outside. “I think a few of us are about to enter hell.” “The Jiantong team arrived earlier,” Marong informed Gwen and their companions as they exited the ISTC compound. The air outside felt as though the team had passed between a portal separating the Plane of Water and the Material Realm. The humidity inside the glyph-cooled room had been at best twenty per cent, but now it was well into the eighties, instantly smothering the bare-limbed girls with a snail sheen of sweat. “Better than I imagined.” Rene caught the air with her hands. The moisture was almost tangible. “Jiro?” “Wet,” Jiro remarked, circulating elemental fire through his mana conduits. “I should burn off a little moisture before it gets clammy.” “H-How is this possible?” Gwen moaned, caught between the dilemma of stripping off her long-sleeved shirt protecting her from the sun and wearing waterlogged linen. “Mia, how are you not feeling this?” “I was born here,” Mayuree snickered at the sight of the team encountering the monsoonal weather for the first time. “Weren’t you born in Shanghai?” Gwen watched a beat of sweat visibly forming on the back of her hand. “I mean I belong here,” Mayuree corrected herself hurriedly. “Aren't you from Australia. Isn’t it hot there?” “The heat there is dry!” Gwen decided a sunburn was better than whatever the hell she was experiencing now, and so stripped out of her skivvy, exposing the sports-top underneath. “Is Magus Maymaruya with us? I don’t think I can handle this. It’s only been two minutes!” “Gwen, come under the shade,” Richard offered his cousin a moment of respite under a watery umbrella made by Lea. “I'll take care of the moisture if you stay close. The heat is going to take some getting used to.” “Maymaruya’s looking after things in Shanghai,” Marong regretfully informed his sister's companions. “Come on; our destination is just up ahead.” The boulevard that led from the ISTC interchange had signs beyond Gwen’s Ioun Stone’s ability to translate, with only the character of "ရန်ကုန်မြို့" being transcribed as “Yangon City”, while the rest remained undecipherable thanks to the rarity of Old Mon scriptural glyphs. According to Mayuree, the district through which they walked is Dagon, forming the centre of Yangon city, and their destination was the centre of all activity in Yangoon - the Shwedagon Pagoda. What they were passing now was what had been translated by Marong as “Goddess' Park,” a nature reserve built for the conservation of local avian populations as well as a riverside wind-buffer for the temple complex just behind it. Rather than taking mechanised transport, the walk allowed the students to accustom themselves to the sights of the inner city, as well as orientate their bearings. In her old world, Gwen had visited Burma during her Contiki wanderlust days, though in the late naughties, the paranoid Military Junta had made exploration nigh-impossible for the aspiring self-guided tourist. Even so, she had seen the glory of the Shwedagon Pagoda first hand, marvelling at its golden dorms during sunset, smiling at saffron monks puffing on hand-rolled cigarettes grinning back at her outlandish, immodest attire. In the Yangon of her present, the city was an amalgamation of British, Chinese, Indian and local influences, creating a strangely chimeric city that Gwen could only compare to the Milu. All around them, across the park and behind them, once august sandstone buildings were overgrown with moss, ferns and mildew, many of which lay uninhabited, robbed of its succour of administrative officials and hard-working busboys running messages for their brocade-vested masters. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. “The welcoming ceremony will take place here—” Mayuree proudly opened her arms as they cleared the tree line, following the contour of Theingottara Park, finally arriving at the north gate of Shwedagon Pagoda. “While the reception tonight will be at the Secretariat Building downtown at Kyauktada.” Gwen wanted to talk some more, but Mayuree stopped the troop of gawking Chinese tourists with a wave of her hand. “Everyone, I am going to share my Message Glyph with you. Once we enter the Shwedagon sanctum, there should be as little talking as possible, so please use Silent Message if you must converse with someone. We don’t have a Divination Tower here, so I’ll act as the foci for your devices.” Gwen and a few of the others already possessed Mayuree’s Glyph, as for the others, it only took them few moments to ping their devices against the Diviner’s bracelet, transforming her into a localised signal tower of sorts. When they raised their heads again, the group had cleared the guarded crossing leading toward Shwedagon Pagoda's north gate and was now beholden by its awe-inspiring visage. There, standing on either side of the entrance, towering above the students some ten odd meters, were two enormous statues of terrestrial dragons, their heads the likeness of a lion’s maw in a reptilian skull, with golden manes belonging to that of lions and marble flesh for their gargantuan bodies. Within the dark sockets of their eyes, what could only be Creature Cores burned a brilliant coral even in the daylight, suffusing the statues with life, warning worshippers and intruders alike that should they misbehave, the Chinthe guardians of the pagoda would assist in their reincarnation. “Ladies and Gentlemen from Fudan,” Mayuree’s voice resounded within their heads once the connections were complete. She turned toward them with her brother and their array of servants fanned on either side, then made a polite curtsey, kneeling by twisting her body to one side. “Welcome to my humble country. Welcome to Myăma." Lead by their Captain, the rest of the team bowed. "No shoes," Marong informed them after the formalised exchange. "No socks either," Magister Walken advised, evidently an experienced traveller. "Keep them in your Storage Rings, and keep audible chatter to a minimum." With lowered heads and a humbler posture, the group moved between the two guardians, bound by supernatural forces that had shielded the pagoda against all offenders. Once inside, they became surrounded by throngs of saffron-clad monks lining either side, making way for the travellers from afar. When Gwen smiled at the monks, they grinned back as they had done in the past, revealing betel nut stained teeth stained by years of religious tea drinking. The maroon-gold interior continued for several hundred meters, florid with inscriptions and murals in sandstone inlaid with pearl and ivory, dotted here and there with precious jewels and Creature Cores. In the distance, as though the group were nearing enlightenment, the marble-plated courtyard awaited. When Gwen questioned Mayuree as to the story contained within the sculptural relief, her Diviner directed her Message to a young monk who had accompanied alongside the team. In the next moment, his voice filled their minds. “To answer your question, Lady Song— the murals, they mark the travails of Gautama Buddha as told in the _Pāli_ canon. Through its erudition, our people observe the Way of the Elder, by reciting the _Tipitaka_ via hymn, learning the _Dhamma_ , remembering the taming of the land by he who journeyed from the west unto our holy land. It is here that Gautama met with the Kings of the Mon and the Pyu, the wisest and earliest men of Myăma. If you look to your right—” The students caught a glimpse of what had to be a dragon, or a dragon-like being, kneeling on its forepaws toward a man with a golden halo surrounding his head. “— you shall see the taming of the Naga Goddesses as Lord Buddha's disciples. After Lord Gautama taught them, they aided the Kings of Mon and Pyu to make peace with the _Min Mahagiri_ , the land gods.” Gwen’s eyes followed the mural, finding another image in which eight mighty Nagas, each with the face of beautiful women and the body of draconic-creatures, were pulling apart what appeared to be a western-looking dragon. “That doesn’t seem like a very peaceful negotiation,” she remarked. “Ah—, the _Asura_ reneged on their promise,” the monk continued, not missing a beat, his voice flowing like a gentle stream. “It was greedy for the treasures which the Kings of Mon and Pyu had prepared in praise of Gautama Buddha’s visitation. You see, the _Min Mahagiri_ was immortal and could not be slain, so each of Gautama’s Naga allies took a piece of the land god within them to ensure that it would be stricken from the Eightfold Path, denied from the circle of reincarnation.” “Goodness,” Gwen struck out her tongue. Now she knew how to deal with the Yinglong. All they had to do was get eight Towers to curb stomp the thing - then each city could imprison a chunk of the Yinglong with mystical magic. So long as their converted 5th-century magic held out, the subjugation should be no sweat at all. It was little wonder the CCP was so thrilled at Ayxin's interest in Jun. “Honoured guests, we are almost at the exit—” the young monk hummed melodically. “The path on which we now enter is the Pilgrim’s Path, once you exit the Chinthe’s maw, please follow the dragon’s spine in a clockwise direction. You will be gifted wildflowers and prayer flags, as you proceed, please dispense them into the offering alcoves.” In the next minute, the students burst into the light. By design, their eyes took time to adjust to the vivid brightness, slowly perceiving the single most dazzling construct they had ever seen. Above them, a golden wonder of celestial brilliance, the Shwedagon Zedi Daw glowed, a conical masterpiece piercing the heavens. Its arches and bellies and bells polished to a mirror sheen by pious artisans, refracting the light in such a way that their entire vicinity appeared cast in permanent benediction. “Please step to the right.” Gwen and the others distinctly felt as though they had walked into the realm of a waking dream. Stupas, hundreds of intricately wrought stupas, dotted every inch of Singuttara Hill, each held a little bodhisattva within, some with many arms, others with multiple heads. A few held weapons, while many sat atop magical creatures. Dragons and Nagas… Gwen mouthed to herself as they passed these spectacles of gold, ivory and other unnamable precious metals. Almost everything here had to do with subjugating, taming, and in a tantric manner of speaking, "mingling" with draconic-beings. Feeling the ice-cold marble underfoot dispel all heat, they arrived at the first spectacle. “First, is the house of Lord _Kakusandha,_ the Buddha of the present Kalpa. Please offer your charity with generosity and an open heart…” the young monk sang, moving on without so much as a glance at the visitors. “But do not tarry, come. There is a long way to go.” It took Gwen several seconds to realise that the pool below the buddha’s lily overflowed with mana crystals of all colours. Caught by the reverence of the place and its sanctifying aura, she allowed a fistful of HDMs, almost twenty shards in total, to add to the pool. With great dismay, her teammates followed suit. “Gwen,” Richard tapped her shoulder as they made for the second statue. “A little too generous. Lulan was biting her lip so hard she had to receive a Healing Word from Eunae.” “Oh?” Gwen flashed the others an apologetic smile before continuing. “So generous, Gwennie,” Mayuree voice came through from the front. “But you could afford to be generous.” “I don’t see you or Marong dropping crystals,” Gwen chided her friend. “Ha.” Mayuree skipped ahead. "All proceeds go to expanding the complex," Marong explained patiently, his voice possessing a rare reverence. "You'll soon see where it all goes." Another quadrant later, the party arrived at their second stop. “Here we have the house of Lord _Koṇāgamana,”_ the monk continued. “As before, please let your charity speak for itself.” This time, Gwen allowed five HDMs to drop, letting her companions breathe. After the southern Buddha, they came to the third Buddha, Kassapa, then finally, they were back where they began, at the perpendicular of which lay the Buddha of origin, Lord Gautama. Unlike the other statues with bodies of gold, Gautama’s androgynous form consisted of white jade so rich in appearance that it was without a single speck or blemish. Upon its crown, adorning the space above its head, was a band of silvery metal Gwen recognised as mithril. “Pure Mithril!” It was Eunae who blurted out the imperial term for the precious metal. “Wow!” “Just how rich is your country?” Gwen marvelled at the size of the intricately wrought crown. She had heard of the rare mithril variant from her Opa when he was casting Magical Items. If mithril was the rarest variant of silver, prized by humans and Demi-humans alike, then Pure Mithril was as sterling mithril to common silver, used to inscribe strategic arrays like Interstate Teleportation arrays, capable of capacitating almost unlimited volumes of mana. “We’re a wealthy country,” Mayuree exhaled. “Yet we’re poor, thanks to the Tyrant.” The others nodded sagely. Gwen had already informed them of the problems facing Mayuree’s country. Curiously, Gwen was reminded of Maymyint's gift of a Storage Ring. What had Mia's sister meant when she said to open it when the time was ripe? Another round of clinking crystals followed, then finally, Fudan’s troop arrived in front of the golden stupa. Dropping to his knees, the young monk, as well as the rest of their entourage, dipped their heads against the pavement, leaving the guests to stand awkwardly. “Don’t mind it,” Marong informed his sister's companions. “Prayers given from those without faith have less weight than that of a feather.” "I never took you for the religious kind." Gwen cocked her head, noting that Marong had remained stationary while his sister offered a prayer. "But doesn't this place just fill you with joy?" Mayuree gazed at the golden stupa, picking herself from the floor. "I suppose it does," Gwen acknowledged her friend's worshipful gaze. With so much gold, her knees felt weak. After the saffron-robed monks straightened out their burgundy attires, they once again assumed their places beside the guests. “We are about to enter the great stupa, where you will receive benediction from the reliquary. Here entombed are eight strands of Gautama’s hair, worshipped by the descends of the Mon and the Pyu, each the weight of a mountain.” Their monk guide then formed the team into two lines. In pairs, they entered the temple. And what a temple it was! Jade, gold, mithril, platinum and innumerable volumes of other precious jewels adorned every conceivable surface. From the floor to the wall to the ceiling, every inch of the place was carved and papered over with gold leaf, polished and maintained by some unknown ancient enchantment so that the light from a single candle was enough to illuminate the hall in its entirety. Considering the state of the mirrored floors, every step felt like defilement, filling the contestants with shame and self-loathing. Was all the treasure of the world contained here in this place? Gwen couldn’t help but feel a tingle in her capitalist soul, beckoning the colonial blood of her Opa’s Indo-Dutch ancestors. Just how many tons of gold was here? Just how many jewels, how many Creature Cores, how many ingots of mithril had gone into a place such as this? If she was a dragon - how could she resist? How could a creature born from avaricious appetite endure even for a moment, the idea that he or she wasn’t the master and possessor of what is probably the single most extensive curation of precious metals in South-East Asia? Inside, the stupa split into four quadrants, each held up by two pillars of sculpted jade, forming an octagramic mandala consisting of strange Glyphs and tantric patterns that did not exist in modern Spellcraft. Coiled upon each of these pillars were sculptural forms of Naga guardians, the eight divine beings which Gautama took as disciples, each morphically half-cobra, half human, some male, some female, and some possessing features of both genders. Once the spectacle of the temple's interior wore off, the students finally noted that they were not the only ones who had arrived. To their right adjacent quadrant were their old rivals from Jiantong, with their Captain standing like a Taoshi while the rest of the team sat in kneeling meditation. Toward their left adjacent quadrant stood a group of young men in prim navy uniforms, followed by two demure women trailing at the group’s end. Compared to Fudan’s rag-tag of casually dressed Mages, these young men and women from Seoul carried themselves impeccably, without a single strand of hair out of place. Their uniforms, a two-tone charcoal-navy blazer and silver-brocade tie, spoke of a nation that valued perfection in all things, from flawless complexions to trousers without a single wrinkle. Finally, just out of view, the Fudan Mages caught sight of an assemblage of oddly dressed young men and women in ceremonial outfits. Leading the group was a girl in what Gwen could arguably discern as a Miko’s outfit, with its white haori and red hakama, wearing a thin golden crown. Behind the leading Miko were men wearing the ivory linen of the Shugenja, indicating that they were esoteric followers of Onmyōdō, the Path of Yin and Yang. Having heard and seen these attires during culture tours in her old world, she could only imagine what kind of real-world magic these practitioners could bring to bear against Fudan. “ALL-ARE-ARRIVED!” the young monk who had accompanied them cried out. _GONG!_ _GONG!_ _GONG!_ Three strikes heralded the beginning of the ceremony of benediction. Upon an elevated dais open for all to see, young monks opened the shawls of an elaborate palanquin, revealing the figure of an ageless, androgynous seated figure in the lotus stance with a golden shawl draped across one shoulder. Below, an enormous lotus-flower bore the visage aloft, its pink-white petals glistening as though dripping with freshly collated dew. Gwen’s eyes widened, her Almudj’s Essence thrummed with pleasure, humming in resonance with whatever force that now emanated from within the palanquin. It's a statue! It took her a moment to realise this was a life-like carving in jade so rich it had the consistency of porcelain flesh. As one, the Monks began their chant, reciting the tale of Gautama’s instruction of the Naga and his taming of Min Mahagiri, the great Lord of the Mountain. _GONG!_ A fourth gong rang out; then from the stupa’s centre, a gentle light befell those held within its interior, infusing them with its blessing, banishing all fatigue, all disease, and for the moment, all desire.

Shuttle buses outside the great stupa took the contestants to their next port of call - the old colonial administration - now ironically once again the headquarters of the government-in-exile, a building stoically named the Secretariat. The exit from Shwedagon Zedi Daw proved just as mystical as the Rite of Unfettered Body. Each of the contestants took up a candle as they exited the stupa, forming a long line of warm light that lit the exterior of Singuttara Hill, bathing the entirety of Dagon and the northern half of the city with its magnified, quasi-magical splendour. “Even now, the light from the stupa and the glare from its guardian beasts keeps the Magical Creatures away,” Mayuree informed the team with a tone of reverence. “It’s the only reason Yangon has never fallen to Demi-humans.” Which would make sense, Gwen supposed. Had the Mongolian Centaur tribes taken Yangon in the 13th century, as the Mongol Empire of her world had, it was highly unlikely so much gold and precious ornaments would have remained. When finally the group exited the stupa, Gwen enquired about the dome’s aurora. “If you mean the bud,” Mayuree replied to Gwen’s continued enquiry, then indicated to the crown of the stupa with an expression of immense pride. “Five thousand, four hundred and forty-eight diamonds of varying shapes and sizes, inlaid through mithril Glyph-work bisecting two thousand three hundred and seventeen rubies stud the tip. At the zenith of the stupa lies the heart of an ancient Naga, gifted to the Mon and Pyu kings of old, it’s the source of the stupa’s protective power.” “Sounds almost like a Shielding Station, only with gold and jewels,” Gwen recalled the giant Creature Core she had seen in Australia. “It IS similar,” Richard was the one who butted in. “The mandalas used by modern Spellcraft have their origins in Hindi and Tibetan scriptural magic.” _“I find it curious,”_ it was Magister Walken who spoke next, his mana-threaded voice just audible between the two cousins. _“That Myăma has revealed itself to possess both a Shielding Station by another name, as well as an ISTC array? Gwen, walk with me.”_ “Eric?” Gwen blinked at her instructor once she fell out of step with Mayuree, who joined the others ahead, spinning yarns about the city and its many buildings. “I have decided to take your friend’s account of this country with a grain of salt,” Walken advised. “Not that I am trying to come between the two of you, but if I were the ruler of a Frontier with this much resource, I would not be advertising my wealth either. In fact, something to offset unwanted foreign investments, like a rogue dragon, would be ideal.” “But…” “I know— you’ve told me already,” Walken dismissed her protest. “You believe what you want, but where I stand, someone or some ‘thing’ has allowed all of this to happen. That ISTC array looks like it's recently refurbished. I am unsure if your Professor Birch got that far with his lessons, but embedded within Imperial Metric standards for IST Circles are geo-dynamic Divination arrays used to pinpoint Translocation. Ergo, there must exist a private Divination array somewhere inside the city, tethered to the Chinese network and the outside world. All, alas, isn’t what it seems, including your friend. You must be careful; understand?” “I think so,” Gwen answered quietly, mulling over Walken’s suspicions. “It would be nice if that other cousin of yours, the Russian, were here,” Walken snorted, leaving Gwen to ruminate. “I have a feeling that before long, we’ll begging for a good Mind Mage.” Though the contestants had left behind the vaulted dome of the pagoda, they nonetheless felt suffused by the blessing invoked by the reliquary commemorating the fabled progenitor of the Eightfold Path, an existence on par with men like Confucius, author of the Path of Rú, or his Western counterparts like Christ, said to be the shepherd of humanity. It was with a great sense of Zen, therefore, that the students arrived at the Secretariat, also known as The Ministers’ Building, located in the colonial heart of Yangon’s downtown. Spread across six acres of the most prosperous real estate in the city, the old colonial building had fallen into momentary ruin when British Mageocracy left former Burma. In the last two decades, the interim government, having lost its northern capital, now laboured away in its old halls, blushing at the irony of having to return to a place of national shame to keep the daily affairs of the city in operation. Within the compound’s quad was the central courtyard, a wondrous English garden that had survived multiple purges, revolutions, a rebellion and an assassination. It was here that a duelling arena had been constructed, together with viewing platforms for the dignitaries, a section for the outdoor ball, and an undercover canopy under which servants swarmed with zesty canapés and phalanges of liquor sitting in vats of ice. After changing into more suitable clothing for the evening in their guest rooms, the contestants entered the building’s centre. There, they met with fanfare blasting from a live orchestra - the very first time Gwen had seen such a thing since arriving in this world: a whole pit of violas and trombones and saxophones and viol and piccolos, alongside traditional Burmese instruments which she could not identify. As they entered through the overhanging tent, taller than any canvas Gwen had ever seen, her eyes swept over truckloads of tropical fruit of every colour and description, lichees the size of oranges, oranges the size of grapefruits, mangoes the size of melons and pomegranates the size of Texan pumpkins. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” A gentle light suffused the centre of the boisterous proceedings. Filing in quadrant by quadrant, the teams reached the front of the circular assembly. A troop of Mages slowly rose above the crowd, borne aloft on platforms conjured through levitation. “Welcome! Students, advisors, and guests, to the reception for the first regional round of the 2004 IIUC. Tonight, in beautiful Yangon, thanks to the sponsorship and invitation issued by the House of M of Myăma, we are gathered here for a grand purpose.” The man who spoke looked about in his sixties, possessing a European accent that Gwen placed in middle Europe, likely the Germanic regions. “I am Chief Proctor and Magister, Lutz von Schlabrendorff, and I, together with Assistant Proctor Magister Evelyn Hass and our team, will be overseeing your actions in the field. For our presence here tonight, I would like to thank Miss Maymyint of the House of M, Matriarch Nanmadaw Me Nu, protector of Myăma and its Frontier provinces, and the Brussels-based IIUC Organisational Committee.” Having heard the Matriarch’s name for the first time, Gwen had half a mind to fire off a Message to Walken, but her instructor was standing several paces behind the Chief Proctor together with the advisors from the other teams. “I know you’re all eager to get to the food and drinks, and even more so to get to the duelling field, so I’ll keep this short.” Magister von Schlabrendorff drew a few laughs from the crowd. “The International Inter-University Competition has its roots in a union of European Universities desiring a means to facilitate cultural exchange, establish academic rankings, as well as engender friendship and camaraderie among the future leaders and Tower Mages. Here and now, each of you represents the apex of what your cities and renowned academic institutions have to offer!” He waited for the applause to recede. “I understand your spirit of competition— that you’re here to WIN. But winning isn’t everything. Though this old man’s words sound like sophistry, let me remind you that victory— total victory, is a rare and precious thing in the real world. Against our Demi-human neighbours both hostile and friendly, we succeed in degrees, often so pyrrhic and minute that one wonders if the cost was worth it after all. Nonetheless, such is the real world, and the solution to humanity’s great dilemma is one that requires great power, great wisdom, and great foresight.” “The competition heralds a singular victor, but even in defeat, there is much to gain. You are in a beautiful country with creatures dangerous and people friendly. I have even been informed that up north, a Tyrant of the Draconis sub-type haunts the mineral-rich mountains! Through adventure and danger, make friends! Enjoy yourself! You are at the beginning of your lives. Remember, not even Sir Jonathan Cornwell, recipient of the Victoria Cross at the age of sixteen, Knight, and Magister at age twenty-four made it to the final round of the 1996 IIUC. So, enjoy the evening! Your quests shall be given, one week from now!” Suddenly, as if pigmented particles freed into a gentle swirl of air, colour filled the sky and the scent of supper enveloped the crowd. A flurry of Maids dashed the teams’ formations, caramel in colour and nubile in their tropical sarongs, carrying glistening hors-d’oeuvre: from glazed cutlets to rainbow salads to burlesque splays of pork and pheasant baked until golden. Another troop of waiters followed, dark-skinned and back straight, supplying flutes of silvery gins and cordials, splicing concoctions from a colonial epoch long gone. With Mayuree hanging from one arm and Richard and Lulan standing guard not too far away close to the buffet table, Gwen piled her plate and stuffed herself with the exotic fair, all the while thinking of Walken’s warning, sparing subtle glances at the kitten-like Mayuree meowing about the splendours of Yangon. As the music moved from trumpet to ambience, the moist air came alive with chatter and laughter, innuendo and introductions. Guests who Gwen assumed to be local powerbrokers wandered in groups. Bodies young and old mingled and entwined, the men seeking out the women, surrounding the confident girls as the Dancing Lights painted their faces in garish hues. Though a dozen dignitaries had made themselves known to Gwen, Mayuree’s presence seemed to act as a ward, leaving her a measure of privacy. She had abused the opportunity to work through a giant crab claw when a petite foursome from Kyoto U approached, led by a fifth. The leading girl was the Miko with the golden crown, though now she was dressed in pastel casuals consisting of a long skirt and a frilly top. “Song-sama, Mayuree-sama, good evening, my name is Yuki Kamo, Captain of the Kyoto team and second in line to the Kamo Clan, 39th generation from Kamo no Yasunori-sama. These are my teammates and members of our Clan, Masahiro Kimura, Hiroki Hiroyama, Yamato Kamo and my Vice Captain, Ichiro Otsuki. I wanted to make your acquaintance earlier, but you were indisposed.” Gwen realised that Kyoto’s Captain was referring to the fact that she’d been politely eating for the last hour, stopping only to comment on the food. “G’evening.” Gwen quickly stowed her unfinished crab-leg before running a cleaning cantrip over her hand. “I am Gwen Song, Vice-Captain of the Fudan Team. Over there is my Captain, Tei Bai, and those are my companions, Lulan Li and Richard Huang, though they’re indisposed.” “Hello.” Mayuree bowed her head. The group exchanged bows, handshakes and nods. “We are honoured to meet you, Miss Song. Please excuse my rudeness. Is it true that you are in service to a Kirin Kami-sama?” _“Say, yes,”_ Walken’s voice, delivered via a Silent Message, whispered by her ear. The old man was holed up across the room, speaking with the other advisors, who were undoubtedly keeping an eye on their students as well. Gwen knew from extensive reading of Murakami and Yoshimoto, as well as her dozen or so viewings of Lost in Translation, a miscellany understanding of Japanese culture. Combined with her Mage world research, she understood that “Kami” denoted an anthropological ‘God’ framed from shamanistic spiritualism, Shinto Buddhism, dynastic Taoism and Fusui naturalism, formulating a faith system based on the Amatsukami and the ya-o-yorozu no kami, the eight million-fold spirits that reside in all things. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. As such, it came as no surprise that a theocrat would find intense interest in a heavenly being. “I am, Kamo-san,” Gwen replied with what she could recall of her Japanese honorifics from her Hokkaido vacation. “Would you like to see Ariel... kun?” “Please!” The group bowed in tandem because politeness would get a person anywhere. “Ariel, come out!” She gestured toward an empty patch of air, wary of the lights, the tent and the palm trees. A jolt of Essence was enough to maximise its presence, and without disappointment, Ariel manifested in its celestial glory. “EEE! EE!” Stag’s horn, fishes’ scale, lion’s mane, horses’ hoof and swishing tail instantly drew every eye from across the room. “Okami-sama!” The Captain of Kyoto U’s expression grew instantly reverent. Possessed by a fair complexion, crystal clear eyes and pink, cherry blossom bud lips, the young Miko appeared far younger than her real age, more so in her casual wear. All but one of the group bowed deeply, this time from the waist. It would appear their respect for Ariel was magnitudes beyond their perception of Gwen herself. “May we interact with your Familiar, Song-sama?” “Please, just Gwen is fine.” Gwen squirmed. Not even paying seven hundred USD per night at Suizantei had someone called her anything other than customer-sama. “Ariel!” Mayuree cooed. “Gwen, may I?” “Sure.” Gwen watched her companion skip away. “EEE!!” Ariel snuggled against its companion, kissing Mayuree on the lips, drawing envious gasps from the crowd. That’s Mia alright, Gwen’s nerves calmed somewhat. There was no way Ariel would mistake someone else for Mayuree, not when the desperate Diviner was the one who gave Ariel its first Creature Core. “Gwen-san, I would also like to be blessed by Ariel-sama!” While the Shintoists excitedly crowded around the manifested Kami, Gwen’s eye met with Kyoto U’s Vice-Captain, who had stayed behind to speak. Where their female Captain had the bearing of someone used to deference, the young man with the name Ichiro Otsuki had the bearing of someone used to being obeyed, standing almost a meter-ninety and beanpole thin, the shugenja’s face had a gauntness to it that made him appear a decade older. “Oro? Kirin-sama’s scales are patterned like the Fumishi deer-kami.” “The horns are the same as the stag-kami in Itsukushima though.” “Ariel-sama is licking my fingers! Kami-sama is blessing me!” A crash of jovial sounds only Ariel could elicit added to the happy atmosphere of the reception. “Song-san, I am told you are also in possession of another Kami, a thing of Asura,” the young man began, sidling closer. “No Caliban until the duel,” Walken’s advice once again rang in her ear. Bloody hell Eric, Gwen halted herself from making a face. Was this harassment? It felt like harassment. The old man may as well be breathing down her neck. “I am.” Gwen nodded, then quickly recalled the man’s name. “Otsuki-san.” “May I see your other Kami? Gwen-san?” “You shall, Otsuki-san,” Gwen fired off an amiable enough grin. “In good time.” “I would be very grateful.” “Trust me, Caliban isn’t good for a gathering filled with NoMs...” Meanwhile, others had joined the Kirin quadrant of the party. A few of the students from Jiantong gave Gwen curt nods before joining the Japanese foursome. They were then joined by two prim young women in miniskirts and blazers, the iconography of their uniform possessing a Roman laurel wreath, a blazing wand and a quilt-pen over a backdrop of scrolls, indicating they were from Seoul U. That an Asian university had a Romanised logo reminded Gwen of Walken’s earlier instruction. According to her advisor, after the North fell to the Undead unleashed by its crazed leadership, Seoul and its surrounding cities completely embraced the Western way of doing things, going so far as to embrace Christianity in lieu of its indigenous Mu-shamanism. Modern Seoul was thus a city with more in common with London or New York, serving as a centre of economic and magical development for the region. Unique to their geography, the Koreans enjoyed some of the most experienced combat Mages in Asia. Where China had sent its Mages to grind out the Beijing-Liaoning Front, Seoul’s proximity to the Kaesŏng-Yeoncheon Front meant it was permanently one catastrophic failure away from annihilation by the Undead horde a strategic spell’s distance away. In the decades since the nation’s American and British Mageocracy allies pushed back the tide of Undead, the peninsula has only not fallen, but prospered, becoming one of the largest manufacturers of wands, staves, and magical implements in the world. “Which makes their magic the same as ours, only they’ve got proper military training.” But perhaps most famously, Korean disdain for the atrocities of the Sino War and the crimes committed against the nation by the communists and the Imperial Japanese Mages had only grown, exacerbated by territorial disputes and trade routes. When her eyes drifted from the girls, she caught two more approaching bodies. “Song-Hubae!” Gwen’s conversation was interrupted by a call out from across the room by one of the young men. Ichiro continued to speak, ignoring the duo from Seoul U, though a second “Song-Hubae!” cut him off mid-sentence, leaving no doubt as to their explicit purpose. With an expression that could chill drinks, Ichiro Otsuki stepped aside to make room. “Hello.” Gwen tipped her chin just a mite, displeased with the men’s intrusiveness. “Gwen Song, Vice-Captain, Fudan.” Her lack of deference seemed to rub off on the men the wrong way, as their body language instantly took on a tightness that wasn’t there when they had interrupted her and Ichiro’s conversation. “Lee Sung,” the first young man introduced himself, likewise spartan on manners. “Captain.” Another Magma Mage! Gwen’s brow twitched. And one far more practised than Rene. Whether because of the Mage’s absurd Affinity or style, she could sense the heat radiating from his torso. Much to her surprise, when Sung came closer, she couldn’t help but notice the man was exceedingly impressive as well, not in the stoic seriousness of Tei, but in a manner that was raw and imposing, like if Dai was descended from Mao himself. “Lee Si-won,” the other young man introduced himself. “Vice-Captain.” _“Ask if they’re from ‘that’ Lee family.”_ Walken’s voice came through. _“If they are, ask them for a duel.”_ “You’re both from the Lee Clan?” Gwen pretended to mull over the name for a second. “From the Yooksung Chae—” “…” “…” Sung’s impeccable jawline bulged. Oh shit, Gwen bit her tongue in turn. While the Chaebol, the ten families accounting for fifty per cent of Korea’s GDP referred to themselves as such, they loathed it when outsiders used the word, regarding it as a sort of ironic insult. In her old world, when Samsung’s indicted president went to prison, the phrase Chaebol had been dragged through the Korean media as a scapegoat for the nation’s economic woes; its etymology of “wealth” and “locked gate”, inferring avarice and greed. In this world, she could only imagine what reputations the Chaebol must hold. “— the Yooksung Group?” she finished awkwardly. Curiously, she knew more about the Yooksung Conglomerate than the Clan behind it. When working on Nantong’s accounts, she had noted that a behemoth-tier Korean entity akin to Samsung existed across the South China Sea, accounting for almost seven per cent of Nantong’s precious mineral and Crystal exports, and twelve per cent of its Spellcraft and Imbued Material imports. That a single company possessed as much inventory flow as the top two Japanese import-exporters, Mitsubishi Heavy Industries and Tokugawa Mana-Solutions, was enough to burn the name into her mind. “I see you are acquainted with our humble family business, Song Hubae.” The Magma Mage came closer, radiating displeasure. When the man was inches away, Gwen realised he was likely twenty or twenty-one, the maximum age for the IIUC. In Seoul, males had their Mandatory Military service between the age of seventeen and nineteen. “Perhaps Song-Hubae doesn’t think we’re worthy of her attention,” Seoul U’s Vice-Captain snorted derisively. “She’s a prodigy, after all.” The younger companion to Seoul U’s Captain was likely a sibling, from the man’s pallid complexion and bloodless lips, she sensed he was probably an Ice Mage. From the surface, the man was at least as attuned to the Para-Elemental Plane of Ice as Kitty. Unlike his taller counterpart, the man was a head shorter, barely taller than Gwen without her booties. “Are the two of you done?” Her previous companion, Ichiro, butted in before Lee and Lee could continue. “Does it look like we’re done?” Sung fired back, cocking his head bullishly. “Go and play with your priestesses, Jap. We have business with the owner of the Kirin Spirit.” “Ku,” Ichiro scoffed. “You think a servant of an Okami would lower herself to traffic with bumpkins such as yourselves? Need I remind you that only four decades ago, Seoul U was called Keijō Imperial University. Maybe you should offer a proper Seonbae-nim to your betters.” “Oh, look, Sung Hyung, the jjokbari thinks he’s funny. I wonder how he fares in the arena. They never learn until beaten back.” “I’d think I would fare better than you, Lee-kun,” Ichiro sniggered nastily. “If you have the time, I’ll squeeze that Seonbae-nim out of you yet.” “Don’t give up your treatment, jjokbari.” Sung’s temperament flared. “Don’t think we don’t know who you are — you’re the Kotodama User Seonsaeng-nim warned us about. But if we know your tricks, then you’ve lost already. To think they would allow a Mind Mage into the IIUC, how laughable.” “Ha, you speak as if you know the weight and meaning behind your words, yet we both know that your reliance on Western Spellcraft has made you weak and common. Why would I be here if even a simpleton like you can ward against my kotodama?” “See, that’s precisely the thinking that can get a fool killed in a competition like the IIUC…” Gwen, meanwhile, realised the cocks were happy enough tossing one another that they no were longer in need of a hen to ruffle. Taking a step backwards with meticulous care, she slipped away from the group, double-checking to ensure her cocktail dress was in order, then went to check on her Captain. “Thank you for sharing Kami’s benediction with us, Song-san,” Yuki caught up with Gwen after she was a safe distance away. “As a fellow servant of Kami-sama, we would like a chance to cooperate if our interests should be mutually beneficial.” “Of course, Kamo-san.” Gwen found herself bowing as well, accepting her new role as Ariel’s servant. Yuki punctuated each of her statements with a cute nod of the head, making it impossible to dislike the girl. “We’ll speak again later.” When Gwen sauntered through the grass toward her Senior Bai, her companion caught her with a glance and quickly approached. “Gwen, we got trouble.” Tei pulled her close by looping an arm around her elbow. “I think the Emei Sect’s goading Lulan for a duel, and then there’s a cousin of some sort harassing Eunae as well—” Just as Gwen was about to suggest that they should let their teammates resolve individual encounters to gain experience, her confidence was betrayed. “Upstart whore! If you want to play the crafty chang-yeo, you’ll regret it.” A Seoul U contestant, one Gwen had yet to meet, broke out in an explosive clamour while mid-way engaged with Eunae. Before Gwen could even make heads or tails of what was happening, the usually timid Eunae reached across between them, then slapped the young man across the face with an audible _Pa!_ The rest of the audience immediately cleared a ring of space around the scarlet-faced duo. As if on cue, a strangled violin croaked its last caw, spreading the contagion of silence. “Gwen,” Walken’s wary voice came across as a worried whisper. “Temper…” “You hit me!” The young man was in disbelief. “This nyeon hit me!” Eunae appeared to be in shock as well, staring at her hand as though it was suddenly alienated from her body. “Eunae.” Gwen started in Eunae’s direction. “S-Seonbae-nim-” Her mouth opened and closed like that of a fish’s. _Pa!_ A resounding slap echoed across the room. Eunae staggered backwards, disorientated by the blow until she ran into a table laden with fruit and desserts. Tripping over her own feet, she was on the verge of making a spectacle of Fudan when Richard’s Undine appeared suddenly behind her, catching the girl in her arms. A split-second later, Lulan appeared beside the healer, having expertly Misty Stepped beside the wide-eyed girl, joined by Rene, Anita and Jiro, who had bull rushed through the crowd, lacking the finesse possessed by the Sword Mage. A dash of blood trickled down the corner of Eunae’s mouth. The slap had cut her lip. Were this any other time, Gwen would have enjoyed the fruit of her team building labour, but for now, all she could do was drift toward the red-faced young man with a terrible expression on her face. _“Gwen, this is a good opportunity-”_ Walken’s voice was the last thing she heard as she tapped the young man on the back. “What do you want?” It took the young man a second to realise it was Gwen Song, the Vice-Captain of the Fudan Team; a visage that had been circulated to all his team members, that he now faced. “You have two seconds to apologise to Eunae.” Gwen’s voice drifted as though in a trance. “Go on, chop chop.” “Are you crazy?” the young man scoffed, his face twisting with equal parts disbelief and disdain. “Hey— Sung Seonbae-nim! Is this nyeon slow in the head?” “One.” “You-” PA! Gwen’s blow was quick, too quick for the naked eye to follow. Empowered by her Almudj’s Essence, her irises blazed viridian as her palm struck the offender’s jaw, snapping his head back so far that for a second, the newly recovered Eunae screamed, thinking that Gwen had decapitated her victim. Thankfully, Mages were a hardy lot, and it only took a single pirouette of the lad’s body for his head to catch up. It was only then that Newton’s laws caught up to speed. Gwen’s victim was lifted off his feet and sent half-flying, half staggering backwards into the very table Eunae had almost encountered. Unfortunately for the displaced member of Seoul U’s team, Fudan’s Mages had no wish to cushion the fellow before his face connected with the table, his body cannoning onto the fruit and juices, turning the man into a harlequin coleslaw. As if on cue, the Yooksung duo appeared to inspect the scene with frigid miens. “Gwen, I am sorry—” Eunae began, on the verge of tears. “Sung Seonbae-nim—” “That’s my cousin.” Captain Lee pointed a thumb at the groaning young man buried in fruit, ratifying their existence as the Yooksung trio. “He’s a LEE... You’re a Lee. So what’s the meaning of this? Eunae Hubae, does Uncle Jae have a death wish?” “Sung Seonbae-nim, I am so sorry— I- I wasn’t thinking— Gwen Seonbae-nim’s not herself— she has a high Affinity, and she is a Lightning user and—” “I asked you.” Sung’s eyes were two clinking beads of coal. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Eunae?” Globs of panicked moisture finally escaped Eunae’s eyes. Gwen pulled Eunae behind her, cutting the girl’s plea before she could finish her blubbering. “It’s not like I didn’t give your dickhead a chance to apologise.” With another deft move of her hand, she brushed off Walken’s mosquito voice buzzing at her ear, a plan formulating in her mind even as the words left her mouth. One... Two... Three... perfect. She could do it. With Eunae’s help, it was possible. “Let’s make this easy. YOU and YOU and this prick, assuming he can get back up. We'll take it in the arena. We settle this as Mages, leaving our families out. Are you game, _Sung Seonbae?_ ”

“The three of us?” Sung Lee’s surprise was enough to misplace his building anger. “Against you?” “Against me— and Eunae.” Gwen reached behind her and took her Cleric by the hand. “If you’re not sure, I’ll let you add one more member.” “Gwen!” Eunae squeezed Gwen’s hand back, her dainty little palms sweating buckets. “I can’t!” “Don’t you worry about a thing,” Gwen assured her healer, her tenderness matched only by her surety. How like her old self Eunae now behaved, not daring to breathe or Achoo when the stakes were up. “Remember our training. Just keep me topped up.” “But my _appa…”_ Gwen turned her delicate profile toward the Lees. “Tell me, Lee & Lee.” she no longer felt the desire to play their game of honorific bingo. “Will you punish Eunae’s family if I beat you black and blue and break you in front of ten million spectators?” Her audacity was such that both of the Lees appeared lost for words. “Proctor von Schlabrendorff!” her voice rang out, magnified by Clarion Call so that it echoed across the courtyard. “I require a pressing consultation!” While they waited for the proctor to arrive, the impromptu fruit salad of the Lee Clan had been recovered by one of his female team members. “Idiot! What took you so long?!” the young man spat at the woman. “Take care of this now!” “At once, Seonbae-nim.” The girl obediently picked a piece of orange from the man’s vest. “Cleansing! Prestidigitation!” A splash of water cleaned the young man’s face and torso as he fumed, glaring dangerously at Gwen, and Eunae, after which a blast of air dried him out. Evidently, the last Lee was an Air Evoker. “Out of the way!” He pushed the girl away with impatience, then tried to stand, only to find himself once again on the floor, still concussed from Gwen’s humiliating blow. “Ssi-bal-nyeon! You’ll regret this. I am going to kill you.” “Where have I heard that before?” Gwen rolled her eyes expertly at the Korean variation of cunt. She then turned toward the crowd, spotting the horse-faced Illusionist from Jiantong. “Senior Ying! I am going to do you a favour.” “Ho? What’s this?” Ying Xiang made himself known by stepping forward. He had enjoyed the bitch-slap very much. “Throw your Vice-Captain in. I’ll take care of them as a package deal. If you recall, he also wanted to have a go.” Ying Xiang cocked his head toward Kurou, his Vice-Captain. Then to the Illusionist's abject horror, the Jiantong Captain pointed a rudely erect finger toward him so that the entire assembly could see. “Shidi, we all heard what you said to Miss Song in Chengdu. So let’s not waste this opportunity. Join the Seoul-party and take her out of the competition, I am counting on you.” The Kurou's face instantly grew scarlet. “Xiang shixiong, what are you saying?” the Illusionist spluttered. “A Wutang Kenshi cannot gang up on a girl with the bangzi.” “No, you should join us,” the Korean Ice Mage, Lee Si-won, answered Kurou in Ying’s stead. “We’ll be sure to take care of you.” “ALRIGHT. Cool your Sigils!” The greying visage of Magister Lutz von Schlabrendorff made his appearance. “Sir!” The students bowed, saluted, stood to attention and curtsied. “What’s the matter here?” The Magister had seen it all, but it was his job to ensure that the young bucks left the competition in one piece. “I haven’t even given out the quest, and you’re already on each other’s throats. I understand the weather here’s hot, but the duelling segment of the evening isn’t for another hour.” “Esteemed Sir,” Gwen cut in before either of the Lees could speak. “The Korean team has just threatened one of the members of my team, declaring that they will seek retribution against her family in Seoul should she aid me in any fair capacity.” “That’s a lie!” Lee Si-won snapped, suddenly discerning Gwen’s game. “Magister, we said no such thing, this girl is a bag of scorpions.” “Miss Song, your response?” The Magister knew her by name and appearance. “The truth speaks louder than lies.” Gwen shook her head. She then marched into the centre of the circle which had opened up to accommodate the feud. Opening her slender white arms, she faced the crowd, allowed a controlled trickle of Essence to flow outside her body, then addressed her audience like a ringmaster. “Who among you dares to stand up for the downtrodden? Speak up for the oppressed? If you are true Mages, righteous Kenshi, make your voice heard!” “As a neutral party.” Ying Xiang took a step forward, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “She asked them for a duel, asking if they would punish Miss Lee’s father. Mister Lee’s response was to leer rudely.” “This is true!” Richard stepped forward. “I too witnessed a most audacious expression of arrogance. Even in silence, the dishonourable cur was threatening the family of my shivering teammate! Just look at her!” “I saw what I saw.” Ichiro smirked at the Lees, happy to get a knife in. Eunae looked as though she could faint. “Magister!” Gwen turned back toward the Chief Proctor. “Is this what the IIUC has become? A game of nepotism and coercion? For shame!” “Fudan, tone down your melodrama.” Magister von Schlabrendorff gave her an officious warning. “You are decades too young to goad me, Fräulein.” “But sir.” Gwen dipped her head attractively, wringing her hands. “How may I teach these young men a lesson of respect and humility if they threaten my healer? I am but a humble peasant in Shanghai, what if they menace my dear old grandparents next?” The audience blinked. Gwen Song, a dual-element sorceress with a Kirin, a peasant? If so, what were they? Cabbage? The Magister sighed. “Mister Lee,” the Chief Proctor began. “Can I have your word that nothing will come of this, whatever the result?” “Sir!” Si-won’s expression grew dark. “The girl—” “You may retort or retaliate in any capacity befitting a Path of Spellcraft.” Schlabrendorff furrowed his brows, evidently growing impatient. “Speak through craft, Mister Lee, not through politics, and certainly not through me! I know something of your nation, and I know the power your families wield. Do not take my old age for senility! If I should find out that actions have been taken against the family of that young lady over there, during or after the competition, I will strip Seoul U of its title even if you are crowned the victor! Do you comprehend the gravitas of your offence? That is a THREAT.” “But—” “Si-won! Shut up!” Sung’s voice came across as a bark, silencing his spluttering brother. “The Magister is correct. We have fallen into Gwen Hubae’s trap. Let us speak through skill and craft. All else, to take the Magister’s words: is sophistry.” “The two of us?” Si-won fumed. “I would much prefer the three of you, plus that pervert over there.” Gwen pointed to Kurou. “He tried to cop a feel when I shook his hand, then started bawling that he would maim me when I caught him out.” “I did not!” Kurou howled, his face flashing shades of white and red. “You lying biaozi!” Ying struggled for his next breath. “There it is.” Gwen shrugged casually. “So, you young gents game for a sixsome?” The Lees’ regarded one another. “We will accept, but without the help of the deviant.” Now that a fight was imminent, Sung’s face lost its ire. Instead, a strange calm returned to his voice. With violence imminent, the young man was now in his element. “You and Eunae will duel me, Si-won and Jung-min. First to Shield-Break, Oxford style.” Gwen had since learned from Senior Bai that in international duels, there were two norms. Oxford style implied that contestants entered the duelling arena without pre-buffs or conjured creatures. Conversely, the Harvard format, pioneered by the Americans, meant one began combat with a pre-allotment of buffs on either side, accompanied by having Familiars summoned and raring to go. “I am not a pervert!” Kurou spat. “You, Lee Bangzi! I challenge you to a duel!” “Agreed.” Gwen nodded curtly, ignoring the sexual-deviant. “Magister, will you preside? I am afraid I won’t be able to hold back.” “Your confidence astounds me.” The Chief Proctor raised both brows. “But you have also piqued my curiosity. Very well, Miss Song. I shall personally adjudicate for this match.” The Magister then turned to all of them. “I must also remind you that as Yangon is lacking a Tower, your short and medium-range Contingency Teleportation Rings will have limited operability. Likewise, should your ER Contingency Rings return you to Seoul or Shanghai, you will be disqualified from the IIUC.” Without so much as a wrinkle of the brow, the Captain of Seoul U removed a ring from his finger. “I would imagine you’d have this much conviction at least, Gwen-ssi.” Gwen likewise invoked an incantation, knowable only to the attuned owner, then removed Gunther’s Contingency ring. Just as a precaution, she patted her Ghosting Amulet. “To the death, then?” She smirked at her fellow competitors. “To Shield-Break!” Magister von Schlabrendorff spluttered, growling at the girl. “You hotheads are really stuffing my snout! Get to it! I’ve still got dinner to finish.” The crowd parted, forming an open lane to the duelling arena, at the ends of which four advisors awaited. “Kurou, stop acting the eyesore and get back here!” Ying barked at his devastated cousin. “Congratulations, even without Uncle Cao holding your hand, you survived.” The Jiantong Vice-Captain looked as though he could have duelled his Captain then and there, but another member of the team pulled him back into the crowd. “Gwen!” Ying Xiang formed a martial greeting with his hand and fist as the sorceress passed Jiantong’s assembly. “May you have fair winds on your journey forth.” Gwen nodded, then returned to comforting Eunae, who clutched her arm with such vigour as to deform her supple flesh. “I don’t know if I can do this, Gwen,” Eunae keened. “That’s my cousin; he’s the son of Uncle Lee!” Gwen pulled the girl up so tightly that their faces had an inch between them. “Eunnie, when that other bloke called you a crafty cunt, you stood up for yourself. GOOD JOB. That’s how it is in this world. You can’t keep retreating, because that’s an invitation for brutes like them to goose-step all over your face. They might not be bad people deep down, but living a privileged life has gone to their heads. It’s a disease, Eunnie, and you and I are the cure.” Eunae understood the logic, but decades of ingrained fear and loathing couldn’t be removed simply because of spectacular words. Concurrently, Gwen’s speech was audible enough that many of the audience members bore complex expressions, caught between mockery for the Seoul team and the hypocrisy of their privileged existences. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. “You’ll see, Eunnie,” Gwen assured her companion, thinking of Gunther, acknowledging that only with action could the naive be taught wisdom. “Clear your head. We’re going with Formation C.” At the end of the human corridor, her team awaited, each offering a word of advice. “Be careful.” Lulan and Richard had full confidence in their Vice-Captain. “Kick their ass!” Anita made a face at what she perceived to be impeccably-dressed corncobs. “How dare that bastard touch Eunae, I could have strangled him myself!” “Gwen, good luck!” The others patted her and Eunae on the back. “Don’t overextend yourself,” Tei remarked worriedly. “This isn’t the final match.” “She’ll be right, mate,” Gwen smirked. “We’ll share a bottle of Mao-tai after. I have got a feeling I’ll be thirsty indeed.” Maymyint withdrew her mental tendrils from her sister’s addled head as to focus on the new drama stirred by her unpredictable saviour. From the fact that Gwen Song was willing to strike a Lee from Yooksung Conglomerate for a second-rate healer from an inferior branch of the clan, her confidence only grew. Marong was right; the Lightning Sorceress was a creature of great passion and deep sentiment, a born leader in a time of crisis, but also unsuitable for hard-hearted ruling, especially when men possessed the appetites of beasts. Still, to combat three of the Lees: two siblings from the main House and a cousin, aided by nought but a healer? That would be a sight to see! If such a Mage could exist, maybe Mayuree’s vision may not be so far off from the truth. “My lord,” she opened a silent channel. “They are about to begin.” _“Silit,”_ came the reply, its voice filling every nook and cranny of her skull. “ _Majak ve dout saurivic._ ” In the next moment, Maymyint’s world grew dim as a transcendent force suffused her body, shoving aside her feeble, humanoid consciousness with the carelessness of a stampede of Aurochs crushing the tender grass underfoot. Even as her anima shuddered with unspeakable agony, Maymyint cared not for the abuse. Her body brimmed with borrowed divinity, and there was no greater ecstasy. “To Shield Break.” Magister von Schlabrendorff reiterated bleakly while the crowd below bellowed in wonder at the sight of a sorceress and her diminutive healer standing on one side while three men, each possessing the bearing of seasoned Combat Mages, spread out on the opposing field. Below the Force Barriers set up for the occasion, a crew of lumen-recorders took up their spaces around the arena, ready to transmute the spectacle for future viewing. Far above, the Magister’s tier 7 Divination magic, The Eye of Providence, enveloped the entirety of the Secretariat within his command, relaying its sights and visions into a secondary enchantment, Eidetic Memory, likewise tied to his fellow proctors. Below, the dark-haired contestants readied themselves. When Lutz von Schlabrendorff cycled into the Asian Pacific Region, he had known it would be a thankless task. The reason for the complication of an already complicated network of competitive academic institutions was hostile history: such as the fact that China ratified the UN mutual defence treaty to challenge Japanese holdings in 1945, Japan after deserting its Sino ambitions in 1953, and Korea after immense opposition from the Japanese in 1991. For five decades, from micro-conflicts to macro-regional disputes, hatred stemming from the Sino War had been maintained to keep a burgeoning population gratified. To think that an hour ago, he had given a speech on the urgency of camaraderie, companionship and cooperation, and before dessert, the youngsters were already at each other’s throats. Chief Proctor Lutz von Schlabrendorff wasn’t happy at all. “You may begin in Three—” “Two—” “One—” A spark of mana erupted mid-field. “Commence!” Even knowing his protégée’s plan, Walken’s heart simmered at his throat. In the opening seconds of the duel, a Shield of Faith, combined with a Spirit Guardian conjured from Eunae’s Familiar, readied itself to intercept the first wave of Seoul U’s assault while Gwen began her invocation. His ward had chosen her targets expertly despite their incomplete intelligence, as all three Lee Clan Evokers' first instinct was to burn down the upstart, thereby preserving their reputations. Sung Lee unleashed a twin-headed, persistent Flame Hydra, a powerful eruption of Magma which continued to track and attack his targets, setting up his subsequent assaults. Si-Won, the Ice Mage, instantly and expertly evoked a Missile Swarm, forming a prehensile cloud of icy daggers, hundreds of them, that would relentlessly pummel their target. Jung-min, the youngest and the team’s controller, burst open the space surrounding Gwen with a Sonic Thrust, forcing her to move away from Eunae. Together, the Lees employed one instantaneous disruptor, one mid-range, mid-strength AoE, and a heavy-handed finisher, demonstrating the Clan’s expertise and experience. If the girl were a lesser Mage, her only choice would be to Teleport away, setting her assailants up for a second discharge. Should the Lees’ further coordinate their attacks, she would tire out, at which point she would teleport outside of the duelling area and admit her loss, or take the hit and hope she survived. But Walken felt an aching exaltation as Caliban emerged in its stag form, exploding from thin-air as though a cascade of dark ink had poured into the arena, filling the confined space with the gut-churning miasma unique to the Void. Oily and covered in a film of dripping Void-matter, the creature caught the brunt of the sonic blast without so much as a wrinkle on its faceless mien, even as a chunk of its torso blew out with a violent _Chonk!_ "SHAAAAA!" Tilting forward on its stiletto legs, Caliban flew into a deadbolt, catching a portion of the Missile Swarm, losing the better half of its faceless mien. Relentless, it hammered on, striking sparks on the shielded floor, skittering toward the three astonished Mages without breaking its stride. Mid-way, it encountered the magma hydra; it’s multi-pointed stag horns erupted into sixteen prehensile tendrils, each a slithering length of lamprey penetrating the body of the twin-headed ophidian. When furthermore Sung’s magnificent two-stage spell exploded across Caliban’s body, ripping out chunks of flesh and gouging holes the size of Gwen’s torso, it leaned forward— And re-birthed into a skittering spider-demon half the size, fully healed, Hasted and twice as angry. “Si-Won!” the leading Lee called out, himself erecting a Magma Arc, an offence-defence spell that shielded his team while also exploding outward in a terrific arc of flaming lava. “Glacial Geyser!” A burst of ice, instantaneously forming underneath Caliban and with a minimal margin of error, caught the spiderling in the rear, preventing it from coming closer. “Hurricane Blast!” The third Lee remained on Gwen, attempting to banish the Void Sorceress to open up Eunae for a thorough thrashing. As a chilling draft of cyclonic air descended upon the female duo, Walken tasted a sharp tartness of nervous bile. He found himself clenching his fists when Luyi, leaping in between the Evocation manifest and the girls, made a barely audible ‘Eep!’ before the Air Mage’s superior firepower dashed the Guardian Spirit to smithereens. In the next split-second, the remaining impact descended, catching Eunae’s Shield of Faith, painting the semi-dome a stark white as its mana compressed and the barrier strained. Walken found himself clenching his teeth. _Four seconds!_ His mind screamed. _Just four more seconds!_ On the far side, Caliban escaped once again, this time slipping from the icy prison as an enormous centipede, its carapace slick and obsidian. Unfazed, Sung Lee retaliated with a Magma Breath, stopping Caliban in its tracks, sheering away a dozen legs with a chunk of lava-encrusted shale. Beside him, matching his brother spell by spell, a Creeping Ice ripped through Caliban’s torso, snapping its lower body clean off. With a wiggle, Caliban fell to the floor and lay still. The crowd gasped for air, not yet recovered from the horrid sight of the sable-coated nightmare invading their shuddering souls. _NOW!_ Walken had to stop himself lest he gave away Gwen’s game. Quietly and without warning, at the precise moment in which Caliban met a grisly, temporary end, Ariel materialised above the Lees, crackling with emerald lightning, its horns charged with Almudj’s punishing fury. _“CHAIN LIGHTING!”_ Walken found himself mouthing the words. “Barbanginy!” Gwen’s voice reverberated from within the duelling arena. The Magister’s mind burst into brilliant happiness as the Lightning Bolt connected first with Sung Lee, striking the man’s hastily erected Shield. Then, as if on cue, it zig-zagged across the field to strike Si-Won, who was forced to put up an Ice Barrier. Before the lightning could plough through the Ice Mage’s protection and trigger his Shield, it travelled onwards toward Jung-min, blowing past his protection in a single strike. “Shield-Bre—!” the command from Magister Schlabrendorff exploded across the assembly, but Gwen’s Chain Lightning wasn’t yet finished. It shot upwards and struck her Kirin in full. Walken’s lips curled, his heart galloped, his blood kindled; he finally understood why Kilroy took so much joy in showing off his Apprentices. From Ariel, a new bolt descended. “Ha-ha!” Walken wondered if he looked like a maniac about now, but he couldn’t give two shits. Gwen’s Chain Lightning was a skill he had taught. It was uniquely his, and now it was going to be seen around the world, magnified a million times in every institution across Asia, Europe and the Americas. The second bolt was weaker, but Gwen’s Essence-infused Barbanginy was tens of magnitudes stronger than mortal lightning. _Crack!_ A split second later, the bolt struck Sung Lee, splitting his Magma encrusted Shield in twain, revealing a disbelieving face. _Crack!_ Si-Won’s Ice Shield was insufficient to withstand the returning bolt. With a singular sound of shattering ice, a split arc from the viridian surge licked the Ice Mage, blasting him off his feet with a clattering of teeth. “—eak!” Magister von Schlabrendorff hadn’t even finished his first announcement. _Crack!_ The bolt persisted, seeking out the final member of Lee’s team for another round of electro-vivification. _Oh, Gods!_ Walken felt his heart skip. She better not be thinking of killing a Lee. If there was one group that took a blood debt with absolute gravity, it was the profoundly tribal Korean Chaebols. Gwen could kiss her peace goodbye if the boy were to be summarily executed in the middle of a duel before the IIUC had even begun. Any hope that a second Shield could be erected was non-existent; between the sundering of his first and the return of the bolt, no more than a second had passed. Even an Abjurer would need a breather before refreshing a buffer. “Sung Hyung!” Jung-Min’s voice called out as the bolt struck, lighting the man like a candle. While the crowd watched with open mouths at the first casualty of the IIUC, the bolt returned to Ariel. From which a third cycle engendered. “Shield Break! Shield BREAK!” the Magister howled. “GWEN SONG! STOP THIS DUEL AT ONCE!” With a glance from its Master, Ariel fizzled the circulating Chain Lightning, reminding the assembly that Gwen retained complete control. Together with Walken, the assembly’s eyes first caught the illustrious form of the prowling Kirin swishing its tail. Then of the smouldering trio, of which only Seoul U’s Captain, Sung Lee, remained ruffled but otherwise unmolested. “Shaaa!” Caliban, once again reborn, slithered from the mangled corpse of its former self, back to its regular size and original shape, ready for probing. “Shaa! Shaa!” It hissed at the Seoul U’s Captain, who looked around dazed, as though he had entered a strange new metaphysical world, one in which a girl from Fudan had cracked his Shield, then turned his gaze to Gwen. Finally, Walken’s swelling eyes landed on his student. Eunae huffed, a hand placed against Gwen’s back, Luyi feebly lingering by the Cleric’s side. As for the architect of the spectacle that now befell the lords and ladies of Myăma, she stood quivering, drenched from head to toe in perspiration, her complexion was the colour of lily buds, pale with shades of bruised blue. Slowly, with great care, she withdrew her arms, locked in place for quick-casting, then packed her white legs so that she appeared dignified. With chest heaving and eyes wild, she reached over with a hand to take her healer by the shoulder, then planted a kiss on Eunae’s forehead. Walken’s heart soared and soared until it strained as though a viol played to the highest pitch. At this moment, in his eyes, there was no greater sense of pride. She was his muse. “Eunae,” she uttered audibly. Walken found himself walking down the advisor’s dais toward the exit of the duelling platform, at which point his ward’s sweet voice dispelled the charm that had enthralled her beholden audience. The girl was a natural. “Muster up another jolt, Eunae—” Gwen managed. “Go heal your cousins.” Sung Lee wanted to hurl a Dragon Breath when Eunae, the cousin he had half a mind to remove from the Clan’s roster permanently, offered to heal her kin. But when she approached, eyes wide with fear, he found that he could not speak. Earlier, when Jung-min had called for his help, he couldn’t do a thing, so what right did he have to deny his junior’s mercy? “Sung Seonbae-nim…” Eunae’s gentle bosoms rose and fell as she lowered her head. Slowly, he reached out and touched her head, feeling her soft hair between his fingers. “Eunae,” he croaked finally, finding a measure of strength returning to his jaws. “Tell Gwen-ssi, that we’ll do our best in the competition, and that I won’t underestimate her again.” “Yes, Seonbae-nim.” Eunnae bowed deeply. “And…” “Seonbae-nim?” Sung Lee swallowed, finding his throat swollen when the words reached his mouth. “Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “Go now. Heal Jung-min.” Gwen was glad the applause went on for so long because she was firmly stuck in place until her Essence restored her Void-ravaged body. When was the last time she felt this? She wondered. Her joints were sore, her vitality exhausted, her head swam, and her vision hovered. The abuse of Caliban’s shapeshifting ability to instantly restore its form was a strategy she had actualised after a great deal of experimentation with Walken, aided by Magus Kumiko. It was something that could only be used in the presence of a Cleric, and now she had traded the secret away to catalyse their strategy, which was to put the fear of Gwen into Kyoto, Seoul and Jiantong. “Tss...” Gwen sucked in a breath of cold air. A raging headache, another aftermath of overtaxing one’s vitality, was now pounding her brain into mochi. When finally Eunae returned from healing her cousins, thus ensuring that there was no possible way they could target her family without shaming the clan, some semblance of movement returned to her limbs. Glancing above, she caught the Chief Proctor regarding her with a complicated expression before nodding amiably. “Victory! Fudan!” Then, aided by her Cleric, she made for the exit. When she almost faltered at the platform, it wasn’t Richard who caught her slipping body, nor Lulan nor the others, not even Lea or Captain Bai. To her and her companions’ amazement, it was Walken, his taut face pink as a pippin, who barged through her friends, crashed through the crowd, then caught her with his wiry hands. “Eric?” She found herself held by the old man's arms. “You almost burst my heart, Gwen.” Walken crushed her against his chest, so hard that she could feel the ribs beneath his tunic. “Well done!” Far from the duelling platform, Maymyint discretely wiped a blood-tinged tear from her eyes with a maroon handkerchief. The appeasement of her master made Maymyint happier than even that old codger, Eric Walken, who even now was coddling his ward. “I will have her delivered to Kachin right away, my Lord,” she promised. “ _Tepoha sanipkur_ , let them play their mortal games,” the voice echoed within her mind, switching to human speech to reduce the burden on her feverish brain. In the next moment, her lord’s slow chuckling grew into a bone-thrumming roar of merriment. “Make the arrangements. If and when the bastard meets my darling niece, I want them both frothing and seething.”

_Cla-Clang!_ _Clung!_ _Clang!_ Lulan exchanged swings with the girls from Emei, inspired by Gwen to go for a two-on-one. "Plum-blossom Strike!" Risking a shallow wound to trade blow for blow, she allowed one of the Hsu sisters, Vicky, to gash her thigh with a mana-charged thrust, thereby overextending her reach. "Heart Seeking Sword!" _KRUNG!_ The slab of iron that suddenly emerged was enough to send the girl flying, scattering a vivid crimson arc across the invisible barrier. Above, the adjudicator did not call for a halt, as Sword Mages, unlike Western casters, usually forwent Shields for Transmutation-focused defence such Lulan's Iron Heart, or the Falling Feather technique employed by the Emei sisters, negating blows and blasts through the application of Taoist mysticism. Lulan landed without so much as a grimace, her Iron Heart technique instantly closing her flesh wound. Vicky Hsu, conversely, didn't fare so well. Coughing up a mouthful of bile and blood, she had to be aided by her sister. "Thank you for the instruction, Lulan shimei." "Hsu shijie, the same," Lulan returned, stowing her iron-slab back into the Elemental Plane of Earth. The crowd clapped and cheered, though their heart wasn't in it. After the first match, nothing else could set the blood to boil, not when it had already evaporated. The duels ran at half-strength at best. The members of Seoul U had retreated earlier, taking with them their advisor, likely to strategise and lick their wounds. Kyoto meanwhile, sent out a few members who stuck strictly to Western spellcraft. Gwen chose to stay close to the buffet table, sipping Mao-tai and pulverising the vitality-rich crab claws harvested from Yangon's mana-rich river between her carapace-crushing teeth. At present, Kyoto U's shugenja and priestess sat politely to one side, holding small talk while Ariel and Caliban slithered about underfoot, teasing the Mages for crystals. On her other side sat Jiantong's Captain, already flushed from his second glass of rice wine, speaking slowly and carefully lest he fell into a potential honey trap. Eunae meanwhile, sat on a stool beside a jubilant Anita, blissfully supping on a young coconut. "I feel so full of vitality," she remarked to the team's Mineral Mage, blushed by the booze. "Come what may- let me at em!" The rest of the team broke into laughter while Richard returned with Lulan. "Healing Word!" Eunae managed the Sword Mage's flesh wound. "Does it hurt?" "There isn't much sensation when my Iron Heart is active," Lulan clarified, stretching her leg. "Thanks, Eunae." "You should have gone for the face," Richard advised with a grin. "It'll take a Regenerate to restore sensory organs, and I have a feeling the Emei girls are underplaying their hand." "They have a sword formation that's famous among the Clans, a kind of low-tier Simulacrum," Lulan agreed with the second statement. "Vivian has to be the Illusionist, Vicky's blow felt like a Transmuters." "They can formation all they want." Richard laughed. "Good spell fodder for Chain Lightning." Fudan's party collectively sighed with satisfaction. What a spectacle that had been. It perfectly demonstrated that certain spells, when mastered, constituted significant milestones. For Fire Mages, the ubiquitous Fireball at tier 3 was the single most practical magic in existence. For Evokers especially, even well into their career as Magisters, the spell remained a constant companion, an invocation so ingrained it could manifest with a thought. Conversely, for Mineral and Earthen Mages, it was Stone Shape or Transmute Stone that made all the difference, swiftly adding versatility and utility to all Schools of Magic. As for Air Mages, Flight served as the tipping point of their advantage, after which no other Elementalist might hope to catch an Air Affinity Combat Mage without Teleportation or a means to restrain their mobility. Finally, for Lightning Mages, their sweet fruit of deliverance came at the end of a long, hard road in the form of Chain Lightning, originating from the Icelandic Gothar. The earliest records pointed to a Mage of antiquity known as Thangbrand the Priest, who deployed the ancient magic against Ice Giants. As for Gwen's specific variation of Chain Lightning, her private instructor had delivered a spell which, in Walken's words, secured his previous career. Incepting as an Air Mage, he initially struggled to invoke complex multi-target strikes, and so had spent years researching and modifying the original incantation so that with Aella's aid, he could replicate the spell. When applied to Ariel, the two then discovered that her pseudo-Kirin was capable of reinvigorating a refracted bolt, continuing the cycle. With Gwen's current Affinity, the second sequence reduced her Chain Lightning to half-strength, while the third cycle was little more effective than a low-tier Lightning Missile. However, when fused with Almudj's Essence, it took three cycles for the bolt to be reduced to its original strength, arguably capable of returning for a fourth and final strike. Though impressive, the spell was highly conditional. First, targets had to be intimately displaced. Second, while cycling, targets must remain within range, as a single Teleportation or Blink could disrupt the flow of the spell as it refracted from each victim. Third, Ariel must remain in range and immobile, opening her Familiar to banishment, assaults, and other dangers. Lastly and finally, the spell's effectiveness dwindled against Abjurers who are capable of dampening her lightning, as each strike relied on carrying over energy from the last. In the worst case scenario, a skilled Earthen Mage with a strong metal-element may ground the first strike, undoing the spell altogether. In tests conducted with Walken's conjured targets, it was against clustered aerial foes that the Signature invocation truly shined. Though as Walken noted, countermeasures were her opponent's problem: as a group; they fed her Chain Lightning. Alone, she could eat them alive. That was the "Fear of Gwen" he had intended. All that was left was the competition itself. Magister Lutz von Schlabrendorff stood by the window atop the Royal Strand by Seikkantha Park. His suite overlooked the Secretariat below, where the students should by now be returning to their rooms. For the next few days, the students could socialise and get to know the people and the land. Of course, the competition itself would take place in Kachin, ten hours Mage Flight north of Mandalay, but the students didn't know that. Standing in the middle of the luxurious living room, the Magister closed his eyes, allowing greater focus. "Reveal Dweomer." Lutz invoked a high-tier detection spell which reacted to the presence of unsavoury enchantments within the vicinity of the caster. At his behest, a ripple of vibrant energy manifested as a sphere radiating from the caster, enveloping the top floor of the hotel. "Hmm…" Lutz grunted with displeasure. He was being watched. For the defeated ruling remnant of an uncivilised frontier, the audacity shown by this House of M was astounding. "Obfuscate!" A second invocation from the School of Illusion was enough to render any Divination below tier 7 senseless. "Evelyn," the Magister spoke into a Message spell of his own making, utilising a private network established between himself and the advisors for the various teams. "Inform Walken I need to speak with him." "Yessir," came the reply from Magister Evelyn Hass, his right-hand woman. Lutz had all but ten minutes to set up the lumen-projector and conjure two servings of Old Fashioned before Hass returned, signalling Walken's arrival. "Come in." Lutz unlocked the door with a wave of his hand. "Eric, it's been too long." "Good to see you too, Lutz." The two shared a friendly handshake. "Please, take a seat, make yourself comfortable." Lutz indicated to the spacious hotel room. "I've got something interesting to show you." Each of the veteran Mages took up a spot around the room while Magister Hass left the room. "Replay," Lutz commanded the lumen-recorder. The scene now projected in the living room was the match between Gwen Song and Seoul U. Manipulating glyphs only he could see, Lutz's Panopticon Engine, a sophisticated crystalline device operable only by the Chief Proctor, shifted its angle until it focused on the dais upon which the House of M's representative, the lithe Miss Maymyint, holding a flute of golden liqueur. "Eric." Lutz indicated to the sight of their female host. "As you are aware, a part of the Panopticon is designed to identify oddities, such as malignant magic utilised to aid students to gain an unfair advantage. In reviewing suspicious magic during the match— observe." The Mages watched a thin golden thread materialise, linking Maymyint and Mayuree. "Now that IS interesting." Walken knew that The Eye of Providence was a class III restricted Divination Spell originating from a darker era under the Papal Inquisition. With it, a Diviner may monitor and record the activities of students and their actions during the competition. "Well, Eric? What do you have to say for your local contestant?" "If you must know, she was a temporary shoo-in," Walken grumbled darkly. "The original Diviner quit, saying that she didn't want to die, and her sister, our host, volunteered Mayuree. I can assure you, Lutz- if there is any attempt at subverting the fairness of the game, my team will have no part in it. I've proctored in the past. I know how this works." Stolen novel; please report. Lutz von Schlabrendorff regarded his old friend from the Grey Faction, then exhaled. "Needless to say, if this happens during the Quest, penalties will apply." "Maybe the House of M is planning something," Walken changed the subject. "Can you do me a favour and route some information from the betting houses?" "You think they're trying to make a quick mound of HDMs? It's nothing so crass," Lutz refuted Walken's hypothesis. "The House of M donated three-hundred thousand HDMs to the competition's coffers, Eric, and they're paying for all expenses incurred while we're in Burma." Walken smirked at the nation's old colonial name. To think that only a decade had passed since the Mageocracy pulled out before the Orientals had a dragon infest the north. It was laughable how incompetent these prideful independence governments could be. "What do you suggest?" "Nothing. I'll leave that to you." Lutz offered his old colleague a glass of the Old Fashioned, now suitably infused. "The IIUC must go on. Remember, so long as our host holds up their part of the agreement with the Committee, we are a strictly neutral party. For good reasons, we do not interfere, even if the contestants are to lose their lives." "So, this is a favour?" "Would you believe pity? You need this. Don't you?" Walken grunted. Pity was the right word. To think one of the Oceania Ten was now reduced to chaperoning an eighteen-year-old girl Mage like a steward. "What happened to your famous impartiality?" "The match hasn't started yet. Can't a man chat with an old friend?" "Well then, thanks, Lutz." Walken breathed out, bowing his head slightly. "I appreciate it." "I am doing it for the girl as well." Lutz von Schlabrendorff scratched his temple. "A talent like that, remind you of someone?" "Sobel?" "Who else?" "Gwen is…" Walken checked his tongue. "...different." "Time will tell." Lutz appeared unconvinced. "Like Sobel, I anticipate the Mageocracy will squeeze a decade out of her at least, two at best. Though I don't think there'll be another Kilroy to ferment a second Sobel. I still can't believe old Henry died such a needless death. He was the best of us." "They could use her to fight Sobel, you know." Walken tasted a metallic tang of guilt on his tongue. "I can tell you Gwen has good cause to give it her all." "Ha!" Lutz von Schlabrendorff laughed, swirling his drink. "Good luck with that, Eric. May the best team win." "I thought the competition isn't about winning?" Lutz von Schlabrendorff swilled the last of his drink; then the room filled with rye-scented laughter. Walken teleported back into his hotel room, feeling an urgent need to set matters into motion. He discerned immediately the error of letting his passions ferment, channelling a little too much of Henry. He reminded himself that his old rival had grown soft, and that was why he failed. Henry had let his students' affections affect his thinking; he allowed his sentiments for his wife to impact his judgement. Mayuree, defrauding the competition? He found that unlikely. No, this was something more. Something nefarious. He could feel it in his bones; it was just the sort of thing he would plot. Shuffling out of his jacket, he washed his face to cool his head. _How to proceed?_ Walken asked himself. The contents of the match remained unknowable. _Lutz wasn't THAT generous._ Should they swallow the risk and persist in their suit? To bail— to reconvene, may very well waste their immovable advantage. As the team stood now, Jiantong's Captain was amiable to cooperation, Kyoto U had been charmed by Gwen's pseudo-Kirin, and Seoul had been suitably oppressed. As for Mayuree. If this were the Eric Walken of the past, there would a hundred and one ways to make the Diviner cough up the truth. But thanks to Gwen' soft-heartedness, disabling the girl was out of the question, not to mention they genuinely needed a Diviner. As for the path of least resistance, Walken knew he had to do the unthinkable; he had to tell Gwen the truth. "Yes? Who is it?" Gwen opened the door to find Eric Walken standing at the entrance of her Secretariat's west-wing guest room. "Gwen, we need to talk." Had Walken's face been any less the likeness of a basilisk, she would have thought the old man desiring a heart to heart, but the firmness of Walken's jaws indicated this was serious. "Right, what's the matter?" "Bring your Habitat." At the mention of her portal Faraday cage, Gwen realised the trouble might be more severe than she initially thought. "Righto, one sec." In her spacious guest room were almost a dozen girls fondling Ariel and playing cards. Within her seraglio of feminine figures, she had the hungover Lulan, the thankful Eunae, Anita, Rene, and to Walken's great surprise, Yuki, the Captain of the Kyoto team, as well as a few of her companions, was even now holding Gwen's Kirin with a dreamy expression. Together, the girls had been playing Da-Lao-Er, a game she had learned from Tao, engaging in an equally entertaining but far less destructive royal rumble. After much grumbling and a promise to leave Ariel behind, Gwen met Walken in the courtyard. One HDM later, the duo joined in the grey space of the habitat's courtyard. "Here's fine." Walken eyed the conjured home. "Listen well. The Chief Proctor has just informed me that your friend Mayuree is under suspicion of using Mind Link to violate the rules of the competition." Gwen's eyes grew as large as hen's eggs; a complaint reached her lips reflexively. "Hold your horses." Walken put up a hand. "Lutz doesn't know Mayuree as you do, nor does he have the information that we have, such as your involvement with her, or the House of M." Gwen swallowed. She did not recall telling Walken any of this. If so, where had he gotten the information? "Call it due diligence." Walken gave her a sideways look. "Something that will preoccupy much of your time should you ever come to possess a Tower. So, are we in agreement that your previously naive friend lacked the mental means to execute such a daring subversion?" "Definitely." Gwen nodded, thinking of the demure Mayuree, who could be overexcited and careless but who certainly wasn't capable of pulling a con like this. "What do you propose?" "I don't believe this Maymyint is so foolish as to mind-tap Mayuree in the middle of a match. More than likely, I think it's plausible that your friend is under the influence of her sister to perform some bidding. The more I hear about this, the more I am starting to suspect that there's some disastrous event on the horizon. The Tyrant, your friend, the House of M, Myăma, all of it. There's a piece of the puzzle missing, but I just can't put my finger on the pulse of it." "Ah…" Gwen realised immediately the precise piece of the puzzle that Walken was missing, objectively speaking. There was one thing Walken could not discover through observing her finances, habits and charming her host of loose-lipped mentors. "Eric, there's something I think I should tell you." Walken ceased his pacing, then met her eyes. "Don't get angry, because its not something I would have trust you with at any rate." Walken sighed. "Go on." "Well…" Gwen organised her thoughts. "See, this whole thing started when I entered Fudan, and I ran into Mayuree and Kitty at the Scholarship Exam…" Walken listened with increasing grimness while Gwen clarified the conditions of Mayuree's prophesy-driven friendship. "The Matriarch of the House of M must be senile to pull a stunt like this," Walken spluttered. "Even assuming Mayuree's vision is correct, there's no proof you haven't saved her already. Unless she's the Oracle of Delphi, her foresight could be entirely impressionistic or abstract." Walken paced back and forth. "I assume that somehow, the House of M is growing desperate to defeat this Tyrant. Paying tithings to a dragon that occupies a mountain isn't news. It's a tradition as old as time itself. I think something has disturbed the status quo." Gwen watched her advisor wrack his brain. "So, the primary outcome, assuming their ploy works, is that they planned for the Tyrant, a draconic-being of some sort, to attack Mayuree. Then, assuming Mayuree lives, there can only be one outcome— someone has to defeat the dragon, thereby freeing their nation from the threat of the Tyrant." "BUT—" Walken continued. "That's not possible. From what I can see, Myăma is a wealthy country. There's bound to be at least a dozen Magister-level casters, not to mention they can hire mercenaries. That they remain in thrall means the Tyrant is beyond the ability of Mages without the backing of a Tower to challenge. It implies the Tyrant must be at least five or more centuries old, starting to moult, drawing power from the land's ley lines, only then is it beyond the challenge of a mortal Mage. Only a Tower can cut the dragon off its near infinite supply of mana." Her advisor exhaled. "I think their plan is doomed to fail." Walken shook his head. "Either these locals have no idea what they're facing, or there are greater powers at play than we can know." "Should we inform the proctors?" "No." "Why not?" "The IIUC Committee won't act," Walken explained. "Lutz has a spell called the Eye of Providence. It's highly restricted Panopticon-Class Divination linked to the Towers. When the competition begins, you will all carry beacons that make you subject to direct observation. During the competition, Lutz and the others will not interfere, no matter what happens. Afterwards…" "There'll be hell to pay?" "Yes, which is why none of this makes sense." Walken gnashed his teeth. "What's there to gain for the House of M? You win, the Towers will come down on Myăma. You all die? They would come down on the House, then the dragon. Myăma will be a Black Zone." The two of them remained silent while they mulled on the matter. "I guess I'll play it by ear." Gwen's thoughts turned to her friend. "Poor Mia… and that snake Maymyint! To think she helped me with Kitty. Bloody Kitty, I wonder if she's in on this." "Presumably the House of M will send you toward the north, where the dragon will be in your path. As for the Tyrant: one can only guess what creature lurks in those mountains. Either way, the teams have enough offensive firepower to wound it, though defeating it would be impossible." "Eric." Gwen grounded her teeth guiltily, realising she had omitted yet another a critical fact. "Can I tell you something else? You can't get mad, okay." Walken furrowed his brows. "What now?" "Er… I might know who the Tyrant is." Her advisor blinked. "Alright." The old man appeared unfazed. "Confess." "I have it on good authority that it's probably an in-law... my Uncle's wife's brother; someone called Ruxin. According to Ayxin, he came to Myăma some three decades ago, the exact time that the Tyrant appeared. He's a full-blooded Thunder Dragon, about five hundred years old, and he's looking to nest and mate." "… okay." Walken pinched his forehead. "So an Asiatic Blue Dragon in the moulting phase, going musth- anything else?" Golos' name simmered at Gwen's throat. She had promised herself not to count on the stupid prophecy as a part of her plans, but the dots were joining together inside her head. Even if Golos came in at the eleventh hour to save her from certain death, how could he possibly fight a mature Dragon? The Thunder Wyvern, by Jun's count, was just over two centuries old, he is a young buck and would only be dragon fodder. It made far more sense that Golos shows up to explain that if Ayxin lost her niece, her new husband would be furious, meaning Ruxin would have to now deal with both Axyin and Jun, as well as the family, friends, institutions, and the country of anyone else who went down with her. Surely Mayuree isn't worth that much trouble. "Wait, I do!" Gwen materialised the Storage Ring Maymyint had given her. "Maymyint gave me this, and told me to open it when the time comes." "Allow me." Walken volunteered his well being. With great care, he attuned himself, hawkishly watching every mote of mana. It was just a mundane Storage Ring. And within was a device Gwen recognised as a transponder. Walken inspected the device, a thing carved from jadeite. "A paired transponder?" Walken palmed the device a few times. "One way as well. It's not for tracking you, but for directing the user to something else, a sister-device. Stranger and stranger." "I guess we'll find out," Gwen said. "Should we confront Maymyint?" "Leave it." Walken appeared deep in thought. "Against a schemer, it's always best if they think us ignorant. If you claim to know this Tyrant and he confronts your team, there may be something that we can use to our advantage." "You know what." Gwen fingered the transponder gingerly. "What if this whole thing could be resolved just by me having a chat with Ruxin? I could wax some sentiments about his sister, about his dad Yinglong whom I hung out with, sort of, and about how we're like, family and stuff now and we're not a threat to him. I could tell him all about the House of M's ploy to turn the world against him, and he could deal with Maymyint himself, saving us the trouble." "That's an absurd proposal." Walken baulked. "I'll make a good case, I can be very convincing," Gwen insisted. "Think about it, what would Ruxin gain by attacking us unprovoked? The ire of the entire IIUC committee from the most powerful universities around? Does the dragon even want to keep his mountain? If he kills or maims us, there'll be Towers, least of all from Gunther, parked five-deep in his ass by next month. I imagine brooding eggs while been pounded by Gunther-beams would be pretty hard." "At the very least, this land will be cut off to him," Walken agreed. "Still, don't do something so stupid if you don't have to. When the match starts, proceed as you will. If Ruxin starts rampaging, take your friends and run. You'll be fine so long as you're not the slowest, there's plenty of fodder." "… Eric, seriously?" "A dragon breathing down on you isn't serious enough?" Gwen rolled her eyes. "Gwen." Walken faced her seriously. "Listen to me. You might think that I am a coward, and I know your real zodiac is that of the mule, but you have to listen. Your life is extraordinary- many people are looking toward your future. Gunther and Alesia are waiting for you so that one day the three of you might visit Sobel. Your friends, Yue, and Elvia are waiting for your return to Sydney. Your grandparents are anticipating your triumph. Petra, your friends, and I, we're all looking forward to what you'll do in the future. "This is the IIUC. People fail all the time, and sometimes, contestants die. Gwen, despite everything: you're allowed to fail. The IIUC is a stepping stone, an important one, but just a step. In life, you'll have failures, but don't falter by dying. If you perish: all is lost. There are no second chances, no second life. Even Deathless Henry, someone I'd never thought would be gone from this world, lost his life, and now all of us are adrift in the wake of his passing. You must survive; else none of this is worthwhile, understand?" Their eyes met, and the Magister could see that the girl was digesting his thoughts, becoming more miserable for the wisdom of his words. "In the meanwhile." Walken sighed in turn. "Keep an eye on Mayuree, but let nothing slip."

For their layover, the team had the choice of exploring Yangon on a motorised rickshaw with a young monk as a guide or join Mayuree's coach group. Though the city had no restrictions on flying, the local populace frowned upon Mages gliding over the golden stupas that dotted the city, and so magical locomotion mostly remained within the realm of discrete teleportation and mechanised transport. To Fudan's surprise, the leadership of the Kyoto team agreed to Mayuree's offer, with their squad Captain taking such a shine to Ariel that Gwen was beginning to feel awkward for having to zap the girl in the competition to come. For the first day, the Mayuree Express took the group into the local craftsmen's district, urging the contestants to dispense some of their first-world HDMs. At the Dagon Market, the girls single-handedly elevated families by distributing the equivalent of yearly incomes as they stuffed their storage rings with hand-made shawls, scarves, local dresses and silk-print fabrics. As for the men who had decided to join, Richard entertained his Familiar, Lea, who fancied the floral colours and myriad spices that dotted the place, while Jiro and Ichiro seemed to hit it off after losing their minds within the hour. For the tour's luncheons and dinners, Mayuree introduced the local fare, consisting of Mohinga fish soup with rice noodles, creamy aromatic catfish curry, deep fried curdled tofu, and Laphet Thohk – pickled tea salad. It was between a delicious meal of fried fish in caramelised fish-sauce and stuffed pork-skewers that Mayuree showed her true colours. "This meatball is so buttery!" Gwen, the gastronomic adventurer, had been nourishing her ever-lingering hunger when Mayuree's expression grew strange. Not realising, Gwen smacked her lips, giving her glistening, greasy lips a quick lick, then complimented the local cuisine. "What an original taste! Like a firm oyster." "What's wrong?" Anita poked what appeared to be a musk-scented poached egg. "If you scrap off the curry…" Richard noted. "You'll find that it's an entirely original ingredient." Gwen performed the careful operation by following Richard's advice, realising that Mayuree had made a crack at her expense, knowing that she was willing to eat anything. "I see!" She gagged, relishing the creaminess on her tongue, feeling a little disgusted. "It's an eye- yeah? It's a goat or a sheep's eyeball!" Mayuree shook and quivered as she stifled her merriment. The rest of her teammates, as well as their guests, laughed as well, though much more awkwardly. Below the table, Ariel and Caliban chowed down as half-a-dozen Mages gingerly put their bowls onto the floor, donating the still simmering goat gonads out of the goodness of their dear hearts. After a quaking Gwen forced a fried gonad between Mayuree's resisting lips, subsequent meals were taken at colonial establishments, as well as at modernised hotels around the port, where the majority of the country's trade with China, India, and colonial Indochina took place. From roof-top restaurants, the team dined on Australian steak and drank French wine almost a century old, eating seafood from the Gulf of Martaban, prying crystal flesh from scampi and crabs fresh from the Bay of Bangor. The next morning and the next, they sat drinking cold-dripped coffee and enjoying the morning sun from a lounge thirty-stories high, realising just how nourishing and comfortable the unfiltered sun could feel on the skin. All the while, Gwen studied her friend. It was without a doubt that this was the Mayuree she had known, but there was also a queerness to her actions, akin to the unsettling sensation of entering an uncanny valley. While Ariel interacted fine with Mia, Gwen felt a disingenuine and jarring sense of reservedness. As a mental parallel, Mayuree's exuberance reminded Gwen of some of her colleague's wives whose manic joy smacked of a morning and afternoon glass of Chardonnay. It was finally on the fourth day that Gwen managed to corner Mayuree alone in the public spa of the Strand hotel, their modesty preserved by a layer of Egyptian cotton. After some teasing here and there, Gwen had invited Mayuree to join her for some high-spec skin pampering, taking advantage of the House of M's unlimited lavishness. "Ah-." Gwen exhaled as a female masseuse worked her elbows into the nook of her shoulders. She then turned to her companion. "Thanks for everything, Mia." "Don't mention it." Mayuree was a little distance away, enjoying a good ginger-lime rubdown from a pair of giggling young women awed by the duo's presence. "It's the least I could do for my friend." "So." Gwen caught the unnatural formality. "I never asked why you decided to join the IIUC. You're just putting yourself in danger, you know." "But you're here to save me, right?" Mayuree buried her head in the elevated lounge, where an aperture left the customer's nose and mouth free to breathe. Below, a pool of essential oils distilled from Wildland jasmine wafted upward, nourishing the mind. "That goes without saying." Gwen allowed her neck to relax as the masseuse worked on her legs, starting with her rather sensitive toes. "Still, to think all of this began with an Eland Core. I wonder if I've paid it off by now, do you recall how high the auction had gotten? Five thousand?" "Ten thousand," Mayuree remarked. "But you've done so much more for us." Close but no Cigar, Gwen corrected her friend silently. She was starting to pick up little pieces where Mayuree's memories lapsed, not unlike herself when it came to alter-Gwen's childhood. From what Walken discerned, Mayuree was glamoured under something akin to the tier 5 Hypnotic Suggestion or the more invasive tier 6 Implant Agenda. Both spells sealed away certain aspects of the victim's ego, while the latter operated as a trigger, forcing the victim to enact a particular action when a condition was met. "According to Irene, spells like Dominate Mind have a fatal flaw," her advisor stated after casually dismissing his encyclopaedic knowledge of Mind Magic. "The controlled target tends to draw knowledge subconsciously and without the benefit of context or subtlety. They can blurt out long-held secrets in the presence of the wrong party, or reveal knowledge of themselves otherwise kept sacred." And so, from Gwen's subtle goading of Mayuree in recounting their good times at Fudan, she was beginning to figure out when Mayuree was and wasn't in the driving seat. As for the dispelling of whatever potential enchantment holding her friend, she had two options. The first was to find a Mind Mage of equal power to Maymyint, who Walken anticipated was tier 6 at best. The second was for their resident Cleric, Eunae, to attempt a Greater Dispel Magic once they were away from the city. At any rate, for now, all she could do was roll the dice and move her piece the allocated number of squares. If there was one good that came with co-trafficking in Maymyint's deception, it was that the team got to dip their feet in the proverbial water of Yangon River, gaining access to offices and temples. Myăma, as they now knew, was divided into the wealthy south and the ravaged north. In the south, the presence of Yangon and its Buddhist pagoda had pacified the region's dangerous demi-humans for aeons, ensuring a relative prosperous human settlement. Up north, midway to the old royal city of Mandalay, was the abandoned city of Naypyitaw, half-built and barely populated when the Tyrant laid its claim. After that, over the next three decades, the north continued to decay, losing infrastructure even as its mining operations boomed, uncovering seam after seam of gold, gems, jade, and other precious minerals. From this cache, a portion went to the Tyrant as a tithe, while the rest was traded away to maintain the House of M's hold on Yangon, the last seat of power of the old regime. As for the Tyrant itself, Gwen and co were shocked to find that the locals knew only of its existence as a sort of natural disaster. Even when she consulted with the older monks, their stories consisted only of mystical euphemisms, such as that of the hubris of Aung San, who tempted the Earthen Asura and its incessant greed, bring divine retribution. When she asked about operations relating to the House of M, the monks had no idea, and the labouring NoMs, mostly illiterate, struggled to understand her inquiries. But overall, the people of Mayuree's homeland differed little to NoMs elsewhere, desiring a universal wish for shelter, food, and procreation. "If you mean the cherished scions of Nanmadaw Me Nu." An old abbot's face grew kind when finally Gwen explained that she wanted to know more about Mayuree and Miss Maymyint. "Then they are our saviours. Many of us fled from the holy stupas and monasteries in the royal capital when the Tyrant came, and we would have starved to death were it not for the actions of the Matriarch and her children." "So, the old leader of the nation was General Aung San, three-decades ago?" "We do not speak of that demon." the old master sighed. "May the tempter of the Asura be returned a thousand-fold onto the eight-fold path to atone for his sins." When she enquired further, the old master wished her well and returned to his meditation, leaving Gwen with the distinct impression that somehow, the web of truths had gotten even more complicated. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. One week later, upon the seventh morning of the student's arrival, the contestants returned to the Secretariat to receive their Quest. Seoul U had by now recovered from their earlier setback. After an impressive entrance in their charcoal uniforms, the Lee brothers dipped their heads at Fudan as they passed, snubbing the others. Kyoto once again appeared in their traditional attires, with half the team dressed in the Miko's scarlet hakama and ivory haori, their long ponytails tied with a red ribbon. Ichiro and Yuki both bowed their heads as Fudan took their place, with the girls waving at Gwen as she passed. Finally, besides Fudan stood their old rivals, Jiantong, who tensed as Fudan's Mages looked their way. Their Captain, however, appeared far more relaxed than his peers, particularly the anxious-looking Kurou, who averted his eyes when a certain Void Sorceress looked his way. Upon the same dais stood their exam proctors, a team of ten Magisters and Maguses, as well as Maymyint with a group of representatives from the House of M. "Contestants, welcome!" Magister von Schlabrendorff once again greeted the students. "I hope that in the days since your arrival, you have gotten to know the local culture a bit better and understood its people's needs and desires, their values, hopes and fears. Now, as you are well aware of our purpose, let us proceed to the competition itself!" A cautious silence descended upon the contestants as their ears strained. "Students, ladies and gentlemen, allow me to announce the first round of the 2004 IIUC. Your Quest comes from the House of M of Myăma, our host and sponsor. The location will be the State of Kachin, located in Northern Myăma, south of the Chinese border and north of Mandalay. In a moment, the details of your Quest will be given to you in the form of a scroll, upon which you will imprint your mana signatures as an acknowledgement of its contents." With the details unveiled, the students began to murmur. "Your team will use a Teleportation Circle to reach Mandalay, from where you shall assemble a party of five individuals to complete objectives in Kachin State while the home team completes quests around Mandalay in support of the away team." "As for your objective itself, the away team will proceed toward the mining township of Hpakan, an Orange Zone, famous in all of South East Asia for its production of the highest calibre of jadeite. There, each university shall be assigned a village, namely Kamaing, La War, Nanmati and Mogaung. Your objective is to resume the production of jadeite from the region, clear the area of hostile monsters, then rally the local populace to clear the roads blocked by landslides from the monsoonal rains, and to reconnect the village with the Mandalay Militia to re-secure the region." "During the competition, the IIUC basecamp will be located sixty kilometres Mage flight away in Hpakan with a medical facility provided by the House of M, as well as emergency Teleportation Circles for contestants wishing to quit. The total examination time for the mission is fourteen days, starting from today. CCs will be given based on your performance achieving said objectives, tallied after extensive review one week after the competition. Expect to receive your results by the end of August." The Magister allowed the moment to sink into the contestants' heads. "Make sure you leave a full manifest of your carryon items with the Quarter Master. Remember, offensive Magic Items, implements, weapons, scrolls, personal vehicles and classified items not crafted by yourself are forbidden. You may keep them on your person, but you may not use them. Any transgression will result in harsh penalties and even disqualification of your whole team." Magister von Schlabrendorff took a deep breath, watched by forty hopeful faces. "Students! We of the IIUC committee look forward to your sterling performances! Step forward to affirm your consent for the daring glories ahead, and I shall look forward to seeing you all in Hpakan!" Gwen checked-in a list of her items after affirming her willingness to participate in the IIUC's Myăma round. As Walken had stated, the presence of death and danger on a quest like this was par for the course. According to the waiver, the IIUC Committee would not interfere under any circumstance to rescue the students, even if they chose to leave the competition. The rationale was that in the past, certain parties had exploited the presence of a dozen Magisters and Maguses to push forward political agendas or to clear out a stubborn region, endangering students to force the committee's hand. Not wishing to dissolve their long-running IIUC, nor willing to be wielded by scheming individuals, the Brussels Committee resolved to introduce an unreasonable but arguably understandable policy of non-interference. The exception to the rule was that in the event of a catastrophe, a team's Advisor could step in to aid or save the students with healing restoratives as well as scrolls utilised for escaping from danger, though that would disqualify the team. Fudan's two five-person parties lacked an Enchanter-crafter, and so they carried little more than the prepared suite of defensive items, as well as a complement of antidote and healing injectors. Across the laneway, Gwen marvelled at the stacks of hand-written talismans carried by the Japanese team which had to be each individually verified and recorded, as well as other arcane implements akin to wands. To their left, Jiantong presented an allotment of enchanted swords, implements crafted by the Sword Mages for their use, as well as a stack of Fuda, Chinese magical amulets, crafted by a quiet, unassuming young man called Jiufan Chen. After activating her Detect Magic and having a sneak-peek next door, she noted with disquiet that these were Illusion and Earthen empowered talismans, likely for a misdirection formation. Conversely, Seoul U presented a host of utility Magitech from sleek Message Devices to Portable Habitats to Rings and Amulets for the whole team. Even their uniforms were magically enchanted. When finally Gwen presented her articles, the presiding Enchanter-Magus gave a start, her breathing quickening as she inspected the increasingly lavish stock of passive items. When Gwen allowed Gunther's Contingency Ring to be examined, the woman's eyes widened, and her mouth opened and closed a few times. "A Royal Asscher original?" The woman's breath caught in her throat. "From an E-Evil Eye's optic Core?" "It's on loan from a family member." Gwen smiled at the woman, quickly withdrawing her hand. "Could you…" "Of course." The female Magus promptly finished her inventory check. "Please keep safe, young Miss. There's not many of those left in the world. Every stone spent is one less treasure that will grace the Mageocracy with its beauty." Afterwards, Gwen felt the band burning her ring finger. I should give it back to Gunther, she told herself, possessing no desire to lose the GDP of a small city. The pressure of such a thing was too much for a girl from the Frontier to handle. With their items thusly declared, the students boarded the coach for the ISTC array for their transportation to Mandalay. First was Kyoto, then Seoul U, then Jiantong and finally, four hours later, the underdog of the competition, Fudan, waving at the lumen-recorders as the Glyphs flashed silver and white, distorting the rational rules of space and time, piercing through the Astral Realm. It was raining when the team arrived in Mandalay. The dry months had already arrived at the lowland seaside regions of the nation, but where the Himalayan range curved through the north of Burma, its sky-high peaks blocked all access to the traversing clouds pregnant with lowland moisture, extending the wet season well into early September even as temperatures soared to a stifling thirty-six. The great gusto the teams had summoned at the Secretariat was immediately dampened by the tepid air of Mandalay, submerging the students under swamp water. Outside the refurbished ISTC chamber, the jungle crowding the verdant royal capital dawned green and glistening from the continued monsoonal efforts, with the vigour of the city gone entirely to the vegetation. Across the central business block where the old colonial buildings smouldered with mildew, the buildings glowered; here and there, mud was knee-deep, growing grasses higher than sugarcane. This deep in the Green Zone, the district felt abandoned even as it bustled with monks and labourers moving to and fro, some braving the rain, others hiding under roofs cross-thatched with banana leaves. Improbably young and bald, a group of monks greeted the contestants as they arrived, emerging from the rain, drenched from head to toe in twos and threes. Behind them were children, almost all barefooted, splashing through the mud to catch a glimpse of the newly arrived Mages from "Big Town" outside the country's borders. To Gwen, they appeared as beautiful and happy children, skinny and caramel, with gleaming white teeth yet to be stained by betel-nut tea. Once the team relocated to an assembly point, they huddled to plot their next step. "From here, you're all alone." Walken activated some imperceptible magic to manage his impeccable hair and beard, now fraying thanks to the excess moisture. "Considering the nature of the quest ahead, your Captain Bai will explain." "Alright, everyone." Tei took a deep breath. "On the surface; it looks like we have two tasks. The first is to send out an away team to reach our assigned village- La War - as soon as possible to assess the situation. The second is for a home team to organise a local force to begin pushing northward to meet the first team in a fortnight. I think we can safely assume that our proctors will assess our ability to get as much accomplished in two weeks as possible. Gwen, can you explain the team makeup and our projected activities?" "Pertaining to necessary talents, I will lead the away team, consisting of me, Anita, Richard, Lulan and Mayuree," Gwen explained. "I have full confidence that in a mountainous region like Kachin state, there will be no shortage of landslides due to the monsoonal rain. Assuming this is what the examiners have planned, we are essentially engaging in search and rescue missions, combining area defence with disaster relief. Anita and Lulan are both well versed in Stone Shape and Transmute Earth, essential for maintaining the safety of our assigned settlement. Richard's ability to shift large volumes of water…" Gwen pointed at the bucketing rain. "… will be essential in anything that we do. Mayuree will be able to locate missing persons, serve as a relay for our Messages, and detect allies and enemies through the dense jungle. As for myself, I should be able to handle most creatures in the Orange Zone, as well as any of our competitors. If nothing else, I doubt anything can catch up with my vomit-inducing Dimension Doors." Her teammates shared a few nervous chuckles, lacking her natural confidence. Kitty, Gwen noted, stared intently at the floor. The girl had been avoiding her as always, only sticking to Mayuree whenever the two could be alone. As for the mission, Gwen's confidence was founded on old world headlines. Owing partly to the clarifying power of her Ioun Stone and partly due to her essence-altered powers of recall, she remembered that Kachin State had been famous for all the wrong reasons in her old world. Kachin was the hotbed of horrors that formented the Kachin Civil War, begotten by the British when they erased the old border between Myăma and the traditional land of the Kachin-Jinpo people. For decades after the pullout of the Empire, the people of Kachin demanded independence, only to be met with brutal massacres orchestrated by the Burmese Junta. As late as 2015, she recalled that Kachin suffered from an inundation of yearly rain, exacerbated by the poorly planned mines dotting the mountains like hornet hives. Knowing the House of M's appetite for profit, it was entirely possible that "Corporate" had left the local villages to fend for themselves while the company's miners drew back into Mandalay. According to their proctor's documents, Kachin was an Orange Zone partly because the local Demi-human tribes had long-resisted the rule of the Myăman government, and that they should beware of the complex web of alliances between each village. As for Mandalay, the old royal capital was the last outpost of true human civilisation before the young Mages stepped foot into the Wildlands. "Thank you, Gwen," Tei continued where she left off. "Meanwhile, me, Rene, Jiro, Kitty and Eunae will be organising a supply train with the locals to leave in one week. Assuming Gwen's hypothesis of what lies in store is correct, we will be able to maximise our CCs if our supply can supplement your rescue efforts, or at least shorten the time it takes to produce visible results." "That rain is going to be a problem." Richard raised his hand. "Lea says it's going to continue to pour like this every few hours, day and night. I can keep us dry, but it's going to waste unnecessary mana." "Let's get changed then." Gwen pulled at her sundress, its sheer fabric already clinging like a second skin. She glared miserably at the rain, yearning for the American-made body-armour Jun had brought to Huangshan. "I guess it's going to be soggy skin-suits all the way..."

After her trip in Singapore, Gwen knew that traversing through a sub-tropical jungle wasn't going to happen without permanent protection. There were bugs- and there were bugs, then there were parasitical carnivorous plants, barbed roots, spiked fruits, flesh-eating flowers and predatory fauna. But torrential rain was new. In Australia, flood and fire reigned, but the precipitation wasn't ten-thousand Calibans in a chorus of "Shaaa!" for hours on end. "I don't think flying in this weather is going to be very practical," Gwen grumbled as she walked into the pouring rain to test her gear. Immediately, her combat mesh sagged, her potion pouches drowned, and her Chinese-made water-repelling combat boots grew sodden. "I think we could swim there…" "I feel unwell." Jiro raised his hand, his fire element reacting badly to the moisture. "Yep, glad we're staying behind to organise the supply train." Rene shuddered as she watched the swell of water stream through the street. Earlier, the team had taken a tour through the city to gain their bearings, taking in what they could of the old Royal Capital. Historically, it was originally constructed by King Mindon, the last pre-colonial ruler of old Myăma before a civil war incited by the British Mageocracy looted its riches. When the deposed royal household attempted to reclaim the ancient capital in 1967, the Tyrant routed their army. Then in 1973, the city was sacked anew, with the Tyrant ravaging the jadeite-encrusted Kyauk Taw Gyi Pagoda and looting the Jade Pillar. As the ancient capital now stood, the administrative district was surrounded by a moat, while individual stupas of varying sizes acted as Shielding Stations, warding away the magical beasts and creatures that lurked in the jungle and the city's many canals. What was once a vibrant capital of a million souls now wasted away amidst an emerald sea awash with flora, with barely two hundred thousand of its inhabitants remaining; all of whom serviced the mineral and gem trade that lied at the heart of Myăma's wealth. Whoom! A low rumble passed overhead. "There's Seoul U." Mayuree was the first to note their mana signature. Fudan's contestants looked up to see five Mages travelling in a wedge formation, parting the cascading rain with water-repelling cloaks, making a ghastly racket as their Captain ploughed through the deluge. "Looks like they got crystals to burn." Richard raised a brow. "I wonder if there are CC penalties for spending more crystals than one would otherwise earn in a quest." "There's not a problem as far as I know." Wry smiles echoed Tei's reply. "Brute force is one way to do it, though they'll be visible for kilometres, not to mention they might anger whatever's living below." "I wonder how the others are getting to their villages," Gwen said. "We'll find out soon. Our assigned settlements are less than ten to twenty kilometres apart. Don't forget to watch out for our Korean friends, last year they herded all their monsters into our district," Tei warned the away team. "They lost CCs, but we failed our objective." "Gotcha, I'll keep an eye out." Gwen wondered if the Lees held fresh grudges or liked revenge served cold. "Alright, then." Richard eyed the rain. "Stay close for now. Lea will divert the flow of water. Let's hope this rain stops before my mana drops." "Hold up!" Something clicked in her head. "Ariel!" "EEE!" Ariel appeared in the rain. As expected, its fish-scale fur was hydrophobic. "Ah-ha!" she exulted, recalling that Dragon Carps swam through air and water alike. The others formed up behind. "Gwen, everyone, safe travels." Walken nodded at the students. "We'll be waiting." Gwen bowed her head. "Eunae, Kitty, everyone. Take care!" "Don't let a hair on Mia's head get damaged!" Kitty bristled. "Promise!" "I promise!" Gwen replied, though her eyes landed on Eunae, who together with Walken, returned a subtle nod. With Ariel leading the teardrop slipstream, the Fudan party formed into a bizarre train, blasting through the water like a slick comet. While serving as the locomotive's engine, Gwen envisioned lashing together eight of her bloodhounds, Caliban, and a phosphorescent Ariel, thinking oh fun it it is to ride an eight hound Kirin-sleigh. Trailing behind, the rest of the party observed the urban sprawl dwindle into reclaimed nature, beyond which were five hundred kilometres of Wildland as the reindeer flew. To the traveller's left, the Irrawaddy River roared brown and turbulent through the landscape, making up-stream travel impossible. In the distance sat the Arakan mountains, forming the border with Bangladesh, its vast catchment pouring south toward the Bay of Bengal. The party had clocked about two hours of monotony when they spotted their first place of respite, Pan Kone, a mining-cum-fishing village. This far north, human settlements fed off the river's riches, with its NoMs panning for gold and gems cascading from the Arakan basin into the lowland. "Pitstop," Gwen communicated through the Silent Messages provided by Mayuree's presence. When flying, the buffeting wind and streaming water ensured that oral communication was all but impossible. As one, the team descended. The village consisted of a few hundred huts made from thatch and wood, resting on stilts that lifted buildings some two meters from the ground to avoid the inevitable flood. In the centre of the village, on the highest point of a hill, stood the communal hut, a brick and mortar building on concrete foundations. "Hail." Lulan raised both hands as they landed on the decking. "Can we dry ourselves here? We're international students from Fudan University on a quest to aid Kachin deal with the monsoon." An old abbot waved back. "Come in," he offered with nonchalance. "The guest area is readied for your arrival." Gwen inspected the interior for signs of the others, herself grateful to be out of the downpour. "Have the others arrived before us?" "The Japanese arrived an hour ago." The venerable priest nodded benevolently, revealing darkly stained teeth. "Though they left shortly after." "Old Master, what's the rain like this season?" Gwen wrung the water from her hair. "How are things in Kachin? I bet it's hard to keep up an insurrection when you can't even keep your sandals dry." "Ho, you claim to know Kachin's troubles, young Miss?" The abbot appeared startled by Gwen's audacious claim. "I know there are dissenters up north," Gwen teased the abbot for answers. Though she had no evidence, a hypothesis had been fermenting in her mind ever since she saw the devastation at Mandalay. "It's true, the wet season isn't good for fighting," the monk returned. "Worry not Miss. What is your quest in Kachin State?" "To re-open the transport routes for the mines." Gwen drew a line with her fingers. "Can you tell me about the roads? How bad are they?" "The last shipment was four days ago," the abbot said. "How do you know so much about Kachin?" Mayuree asked innocently. "Even I don't know anything about it." "It's not hard to imagine." Gwen coughed, masking her white lie. "I mean, mud, rain, mountains, mines and roads in a third-world country, what else could happen?" "My country is not... whatever that means!" Mayuree pouted. "We're reclaiming our Frontier." "Haha." she laughed, noting that some of Mayuree's habits were starting to return. If and when they met up with Eunae's party, she would have the girl step into a dispelling mandala. Her advisor had stipulated that so long as it didn't impact their quest, there should be no dramas with the proctors. When she had disputed the delay, Walken riposted with a Chinese proverb: don't hit the grass carelessly and frighten away the snake. "Master Abbot, have many lost their lives this season?" "Too many." The monk grew solemn. "The mines grow hungry for lives. But the Kachin's jadeite has gotten purer and more brilliant as well. Tempting those who dream of moving to the southern city." "How about the Tyrant, old sir?" Gwen continued. "The Arakan mountains are only a day away by Flight." At the mention of the Tyrant's proximity, Mayuree visibly flinched, her complexion instantly blanching. Gwen reached out and patted her friend's hand assuringly. "We haven't seen Lord Naga return to these waters for a long time," he affirmed Gwen's expectations with words distinctly different to the ones used by the abbot in Yangon. "One begins to wonder if he has forgotten his Buddha-given duty to tame the river." "Hold on," Richard cut in. "Are you saying the Tyrant is a water-based Naga? Isn't it an earthen beast?" "Lord Naga is the land; its body is the river, its claws are the mountain's horns, the whiskers are the great trees crowning the peaks." The monk stiffened. "Being a thing of the world, who may tell what form Lord Naga favours? Take your rest, strangers from another land, I shall leave you now." With that, the abbot bowed, then left the team to nurse their tea. The party members regarded one another. "Old man's got a temper." Richard scratched his head. "I suppose with a place like this. It's easier to believe the Tyrant an angry deity than a greedy lizard. That way, they can swallow the fact that half of their country is buried and gone." "I was going to ask about Aung San, actually," Gwen remarked. "Back in Yangon, they told me that it was Aung San that initiated trades with the Tyrant. I can't help but feel there's something we're overlooking." "General Aung San is the reason the Tyrant took the north," Mayuree repeated an oft-heard platitude Gwen had been told a thousand times in Yangon. Aung San, Gwen mulled the name over and over. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. In her old world, Aung San was the man who brought independence to Burma, alternatingly playing the Japanese and the British against each other while fermenting a socialist force for the liberation of his nation. Ironically receiving the Order of the Rising Sun from Emperor Hirohito, Aung San then betrayed his Japanese allies by leading a joint-taskforce of Communist and British forces to repel the occupation. Unfortunately, his victory drew ire from the British, the Communists and the Japanese, and so the Major General perished- after which martial law befell Burma. In this world, "General Aung San" was a man whose struggle was futile. Informed by hindsight from her old world, she could see how the Commonwealth's Tower system would have dissolved Aung San's desire for true independence. For a nation to succeed in this world, how can they refuse Shielding Stations, Towers, ISTC Arrays, and publically funded Spellcraft schools? To her, the geopolitics of Mia's home was the real puzzle. Though Mayuree's House of M hailed from the old kingdom, their rule had been usurped by the British Mageocracy. Meanwhile, Aung San fought the Mageocracy, not only from the British but from the old imperials as well. Then, between the British Mageocracy pulling out in the mid-1950s and General Aung San's contact with the Tyrant in the early 1970s, Burma lost its northern cities and provinces, including the Jade Pillar, excavated by the pre-exile House of M. The Pillar's loss is an important distinction, for if the materials were present and the host nation could subsidise the expense, the Mageocracy would have fast-tracked the installation of the Mandalay Tower. Had Burma kept the Jade Pillar, Henry Kilroy might have graced his presence in Yangon or Mandalay. Which then left her with a million-HDM question. Had Aung San brokered a deal with the Tyrant? If so, that's a Bingo. It could explain why citizens in Yangon, atypically a British stronghold and the jewel of the old colony, denounced Aung San and believed the Tyrant their greatest obstacle to rebuilding, and also explain why the north looked like an abandoned stepchild. When she excitedly explained this to Walken, her advisor had told her that indeed, her hypothesis showed a political acumen that would have impressed even a senior scholar at London's Imperial College. "But your goal here is to gain more CCs than Seoul, Kyoto, and Jiantong- so Gwen, can you focus on what's at hand? Please don't accidentally liberate an Indochinese nation while you're questing. My heart isn't as frail as Henry's, but it's not robust by any means." "But—" "Give it a decade or three, when you have a Tower of your own, you can fly it down to Naypyitaw and declare it a new Protectorate, but for now, keep yourself safe, and keep your hands out of someone else's internal politics." Walken's wisdom had been enough to stifle her fancies, though when they arrived at the ruined capital of Mandalay, she couldn't help but observe that the city's disrepair was intentional. From the fact that the people here seemed utterly unfazed by the "Tyrant" flying down to raze the town with dragon fire, it was evident that an invasion was the least of their concerns. Moreover, if she went by the cardinal rule of 'he who benefits', it was evident that the House of M reaped the highest profits out of the current situation. But why would the House of M risk Mayuree and Gwen's prophesy? Why break the status quo? She didn't know, and for someone who liked their accounts balanced, not knowing was worse than constipation. Then just like that, the rain stopped, the sun emerged, and humidity became an unbearable slick. "Let's get a move on!" Richard ushered the party outside. "Buffing up." Anita concentrated for a moment, then cast her Abjuration magic. "Crystalline Armour! Enhance Ability!" "Right, let's make haste," Gwen affirmed the team's desire to trade speed for sight-seeing encounters. Allowing her thoughts to slide, she lifted into the air, holding onto Mayuree, followed closely by Lulan, then Richard and Anita picking up the rear. "Let me know when you've reached maximum velocity." Gwen made sure the others were watching before vocalising her next words. "I feel the NEED—." "What do you need?" Lulan replied faithfully, her eyes twinkling. "I'll do anything." "… for—" Gwen choked. "Nevermind. Let's go." "Gwen! Slow down; look there!" Below, glaringly visible, was a dark brown gash in the landscape. A landslide! Gwen exalted guiltily, glad to be right but feeling downright bastardly to be happy that her foresight came true. "I don't think this one is under our jurisdiction," Anita commented. "Hard to say, but this IS Kachin State, and our objective is to 'complete objectives in Kachin State' and 'rally the locals'." Richard threw in his two cents. "Take a look?" "Lowering altitude." Gwen made the call as team leader, simultaneously materialising her Invisible Familiar. "Ariel!" As they approached, the scene of the devastation became explicit. Two dozen wooden huts among a hundred or so spread alongside a stream had been buried under a mass of earth. From every other interval, a branch or the upturned roots of an enormous Padauk or Banyan demonstrated the unstoppable force of savage nature. When the Mages had gotten close enough, several figures stirred from the mud, and dozens more emerged from huts yet to be submerged. "Mia, stay behind me." Gwen grew conscious of the crystalline armour surrounding her torso, making her appear decisively aggressive. "Anita, can you suppress the armour for now? I'll be fine." Their defender performed as her leader requested. "Hail, we're Mages from Shanghai, and we're here to help," Gwen declared with a blast from her Clarion Call. "When did this happen?" The audience below bowed their heads, then fell onto their knees into the mud. "Mia, what are they doing?" "I don't know." Mayuree appeared perplexed as well. "Looks like they're kowtowing," Richard remarked drily. "Are these the indigenous people of Chin State that we've heard about?" "Gwen!" Mayuree suddenly stopped. "I don't think some of them are human! Mana signatures indicate some of them have Cores!" The team tensed. Besides Richard, Lea sprung into being. "Raise your faces!" Gwen commanded, hoping her Ioun Stone worked on Demi-humans as advertised. She could see that the villagers had been trying to dig out their neighbours, but it would appear the loss of the village hall also meant the loss of relevant tools, as well as the local shaman. "I don't know about this." Anita readied a barrier. "We're not here to save Demi-humans." Lulan kept a Heart Seeking Sword simmering at the edge of her lips, paralleling Anita's conjecture. The leading figure pulled back a ragged, mud-strewn cowl to reveal a young man's face. It was human enough, Gwen acknowledged- until she saw his single-slit eyes, that and subtle scales covering his chin and neck where a human would grow a beard. "Wow." Richard whistled. "Serpent-folk, never seen those before." "Cannibals," Anita spat. "We read about them in the Bestiary." "Hold your positions," Gwen snapped. "Richard, get Lea to cover me. You guys stay here. Ariel, with me. Mia, use Comprehend Language and translate for me if they don't speak the local tongue." As her team took up positions, Gwen descended. "What's happened?" She arrived a few inches from the mud. "Is this your village?" "It ith," the serpent man spoke with, as expected, an occasional lisp. "The Land God is angry with us, not enough tribute, dethtroy village, many deaths. Please help us, great Mithtriss. Though I fear we have nothing to offer but prayerth for your good health." By now the others had also removed their cowls, evidently used to ward off the water. Almost immediately, like many a scene from a disaster flick, the survivors congregated toward hope, no matter how feeble or futile. From where she hovered, it was evident that most of them were human, or human-enough, as it were, to pass unnoticed in Mandalay. Only a few, like the young man, possessed enough reptilian features to be Demi-Humans, potentially a sign of the Tyrant's Essence permeating the land. "Gwen, we don't have time to spare." Anita's voice came through Mayuree's routed Message service, calmer now that most of the citizens appeared to be indigenous NoMs. "The rain will come soon." "There are others, still buried." Another survivor, visibly the village's alderman, glowed with hope. He lowered his head in genuflection. "Please show mercy, Mistress." "It's because the rain will come that we must help," Gwen said aloud. She knew it was better that they leave right now, but she had no desire to abandon these people to wallow in desperation. "Is there anyone here who can use magic?" "None, Mistress Mage." The slit-eyed young man once again got on all fours, urging the others to do the same. "Our abbot has perished. The temple was buried." "We should go." Anita's voice grew urgent even as the villagers despaired. "Alright, form up! Follow my command." Gwen's commanding voice absolved any need for further discussion. "We're doing what we can! Consider this practice. Lulan, I want a sloped and cantilevered wall of earth around the village's rear from the north-east to the south-west boundary, a meter minimum to help divert the runoff toward the river. Richard and Anita- start excavating the buried huts. Drain the mud to make retaining back-fill for Lulan's wall. Lea and Mia, you're with me; we're going to look for survivors." She landed with a plop, her boots digging ankle-deep into the squelching mud. In the next moment, her eyes blazed with emerald Essence. "Alright everyone, back to your huts. I am going to conjure some help." While Gwen usually utilised her Lightning element, her Hound Pack and Blood Hound spell retained the ability to bring forth the original conjuration. When six draconic-deer hounds the size of small horses materialised, the inhabitants of the unnamed village fled back into their huts, leaving only the old man and the reptilian youth to gape at the quasi-magical beasts. When furthermore a brilliant Kirin and a strange, nauseating ophidian joined the fray, the young and old cowered on the floor, muttering prayers to Buddha. With Mayuree's Arcane Eye and Caliban's life-sniffing as a guide, the dogs began to furiously overturn the loosened earth, parting sediments and boulders, splitting trees with their bites and dragging bodies from crushed homes and humpies. Anita began her excavation too, uncovering the shattered portions of the village, forming piles of mud that crawled across the landscape while Lulan erected coarse iron barriers from the mineral-rich earth beneath in the design that Gwen had demanded. Aided by Richard, who diverted the squelching water and wrung the moisture from the soil, the trio made quick progress in erecting a flood barrier where the village's border met the hill's saddle. When it became apparent the foreigners meant the villagers no harm, the surviving members reemerged to aid with the effort, moving piles of debris and dragging the bodies of the deceased away so that they could be recognised. "Gwen, over here!" Mayuree called out suddenly, her eyes alive with excitement. "There's someone alive! We need to hurry!" Gwen's hounds furiously went to work, tearing through the earth while Lea helped with the shifting soil until they uncovered the mud-brick foundations of a basement. Taking advantage of her liquid state, Lea squeezed into the gap between the crumbling brickwork and retrieved, after a blow from Gwen's alpha hound, two children and their mud-clad, asphyxiated mother. "Cao!" Anita inspected the mother, having had some experience in the military. "We're too late." The children, wild-eyed and disorientated, burst into tears at the sight of monsters dragging their mother's body. As for Gwen, she knelt into the mud and performed her own inspection. The woman's skin was warm to the touch despite the hypothermia, from Caliban. she noted a mote of vitality remained. With a word, she dispelled her Crystalline Mage Armour and un-clicked her combat mesh, then knelt to place two hands on the woman's chest. After three dozen compressions aided by her enhanced strength, she pulled the mother's head back and delivered two lungfuls of air. When after two repetitions the woman failed to revive, she materialised a potion injector and stabbed the woman just under her breasts. Then, with renewed vigour, she pounded at the mother's heart, pushed with both hands for another thirty compressions, and began the rescue-breaths anew. "What's she doing?" Richard grew as puzzled as the rest of the team. The villagers likewise gathered to watch the strange spectacle, drawing the children away from the peculiar Mage and most importantly, her Asura monstrosities. Ignoring hundred-odd pairs of eyes, Gwen felt for the woman's pulse again. "SHIT!" She cursed. Anita was right, if they had been a little faster, or if she had not bothered with conserving her combat potential and conjured her Void-dogs or empowered Caliban- Unsure what else to do and willing to try anything, she gathered a mote of Almudj's Essence on her tongue, then gave in to a moment of spontaneity. With the next compression done, she breathed her Essence, along with a life-giving breath, into the woman's lungs. Wake up! The woman's chest inflated under Gwen's fingers. Live! Else your kids would be orphans! "Gasp!" The body underneath her suddenly shuddered. "NECROMANCY?!" Anita spluttered, leaping back a safe distance. Richard's eyes were likewise widened in disbelief, echoing that of Lulan and Mayuree's. The woman was dead, wasn't she? Anita had said so. How could Gwen bring the dead back to life by breathing into them and pounding at their chest? Was this a new form of Raise Dead? "It's CPR." Gwen collapsed on her buttocks, but not before turning the woman on her side. Taking a deep breath, she addressed Anita's hypothesis. "She was near death, not dead. No one can bring back the dead like that. Lea, can you dry her out?" "Tell it to the walking corpse." Anita swallowed nervously. "I don't think the others will believe this. That NoM was dead as a plank of wood. Trust me, I know. There was no breath." Meanwhile, the woman vomited up a mouthful of mud and silt, spraying mucous here and there. "She'll be alright, but she'll be out for a while," Gwen explained. Unlike in a movie, fever, disorientation, confusion and delirium afflicted the victim of asphyxiation. Often, there was permanent brain damage. "You there, warm her up and get her to vomit up whatever else she can." But the villagers weren't listening. As one, they had begun a wave of willing prostration. "Buddha! It's she who cures the world of dukka!" The village alderman declared loudly. "All hail the incarnation of Lord Bhaiṣajyaguru!" "…" Gwen lifted a mud-clad hand to refute the claim. She was six-foot in a skin-tight bodysuit half-covered with mud, with only her soiled face showing, not to mention she had a full head of hair tied into a bun. What part of her looked like a saffron-clad Buddha carrying a medicine gourd, sitting on a jade lotus? "Looks like we have a new deity on our hands." Richard laughed, happy that the villagers had become pliant, reminding himself to ask Gwen about that revival technique. "Gwen, who brings the newly dead back from the grave!" "Please don't," Gwen groaned. "Mayuree, was that all you could find?" Mayuree nodded, shocked by what she had just witnessed. "Anita, Lulu, the wall?" "It's finished." Anita bowed her head reverently. Lulan gushed in full agreement. "Righto." Gwen got to her feet, uncomfortable with the worshipful gazes. "We should go."

Before they left, the village alderman sent away the young man to fetch a token for the village's saviours. "Please take this, Lord Bhaiṣajyaguru." The two prostrated. "Should the others turn against you, show them this and our kin will know that you have saved our lives in this time of need." Gwen observed the jade pendant, meticulously carved with the image of a Buddha riding on a Naga of some sort. From what she could see, the quality of the jadeite was exquisite, for half of it glowed shallot-green while the other half had the richness of lamb's fat. "I can't." She shook her head, pushing it away. "It's too precious." "You must." The two prostrated once more, raising the item like an offering. "The food you have left us more than makes up for this small thing. As Buddha preaches: the karma from saving one life exceeds dedicating a seven-tier stupa." Earlier, Gwen had also left the village a portion of her SPAM collection, some forty cans worth, together with instant ramen. Nephres' ring was large enough to stow a pallet of canned goods. After her other mishaps involving Void-hunger, Gwen promised to live by Scarlett O'Hara's creed. "Gwen, take it." Richard was shameless. "You saved her. You deserve it." Mayuree appraised the composite jadeite carving. "It's the villager's well-wishes you are receiving. The jade isn't that precious." Reaching out gingerly, Gwen allowed the alderman to wrap the jade pendant around her wrist. "Thank you." She made a note to stow it in her ring. "Take care." After leaving the kowtowing villagers, Gwen once again resumed her place at the fore of the formation, equipped with a newly buffed crystalline armour. She had half a mind to give a little speech about how well they did, but her party had Necromancy on the brain. She did her best to explain cardiopulmonary resuscitation, but she couldn't recall if this world had such a thing. CPR had been developed in her old world by the American Heart Association in 1956, but in a world of rejuvenation and regeneration treatments, why would Mages care for CPR? It was only her Master, who had literally and metaphorically lost a good chunk of his heart to his wife, that seemed to struggle with arrhythmia. As for the medical science passed down to the NoMs, she had no idea if somewhere across the ocean someone had gifted the life-saving technique to the masses, for no resuscitation routines had graced her first-aid classes in Blackwattle or Fudan. The last person she had performed CPR on had been Debora— Gwen stifled a gag, suppressing the memory. "Gwen." It was Anita who Messaged her privately. "I am glad we helped that village." Anita had donated some of her supply as well, her calcite encrusted heart growing soft as the children thanked them and the adults wept. "Don't mention it." Gwen redoubled Ariel's forward momentum. "Let's hope La War's doing better." By dusk, the light grew too dim to continue travelling, for the inundation of low clouds meant a dearth of stars, preventing meaningful navigation, not to mention the forest's denizens were principally nocturnal. Though Mayuree could potentially use her Divination to steer them in the right direction, the Mages were exhausted and tired from seven hours of flight, four of which had been spent in the downpour. Alighting on a clearing amidst a cascade of Dancing Lights, Flare, and Illumination, the students found shelter in an alcove provided by a Banyan tree's walled roots. Atop the indent that held their Portable Habitat, Gwen left a Faithful Hound, while around the place Mayuree placed Alarms and Anita drew crystalline Warding Glyphs. "We'll leave first light, 0600," Gwen informed the others. "As for now, who can cook?" Richard was the only one to raise his hand. Gwen was a calamitous chef, and Mayuree had never cooked in her life. As for Anita and Lulan, both declined the opportunity to poison their teammates. "Seriously?" Richard scratched his head. "What do you guys eat if you're adventuring alone?" "SPAM boiled in water," Gwen proudly boasted of her resistance to toxins. "You can dunk bread rolls in the meat water…" The team gagged, happy to let Richard work his magic. Anita, Richard and Lulan each had a room of their own, but for Gwen's paranoia, Mayuree slept with her in the master bedroom. Thus enfolded in Gwen's thousand-threaded sheets, the Diviner passed the night restlessly, quaking when Gwen wrapped a restless leg around her diminutive companion, terrifying the girl with the unsolicited invasion. A 0500, the party made and ate breakfast prepared by Richard, then set out once more. During the night, Gwen's faithful hound had slain at least a dozen snakes of varying sizes drawn to the thrum of faint mana where the portal to the habitat manifested. Additionally, a family of White-Leaf Macaques, primates native to the Yunnan region, had set up above the student's encampment, curious but wary of the invisible guardian. The group set out again at 0600 as planned, taking advantage of the lull in the weather. An hour and close to eighty kilometres later, the wet caught up, cutting their speed in half. Following another three hours of near-typhoon conditions, the Fudan Party finally spotted the beginnings of the plateau they would call home for the next ten days - La War. From above, La-War looked like any other village large enough to grace a mention on the topographic map. Sitting atop a series of hills that made up the surrounding region, its founders had taken advantage of the natural clearing formed by jutting outcrops of igneous rocks, then slashed-and-burned through the surrounding jungle to enable pebbled paths connecting the hundred-odd or so houses to an arterial roadway below the valley. The residences on the outskirts of the village were a composite of bamboo and banana thatch, elevated on wooden stilts, while the wealthier, larger constructs consisted of corrugated iron and concrete plasterboards in green and carmine. In the centre of the village was presumably the town's hall, two storeys tall and painted a brilliant cerulean. All along the border of the township were thick rolls of brambles new and old, forming a formidable barrier against the local fauna. Below the brown and barren hill-scape of the village itself was a cascading tier of rice fields carved into the hill, twenty-deep at its very bottom, where lapping waters met a gushing stream. "We're students from Fudan!" Gwen declared several times before her party alighted in the square. "We're acting on behalf of your government's request for aid." Gathered at the square, consisting of a tennis-court-sized plateau beside the hall, was the village's longyi-attired alderman, together with a group of young women adorned with patterned thanaka. As the Mages landed, the villagers prostrated. "Please, there's no need." Gwen landed in the mud with a wet, sucking sound as the soil gave way. "No! Don't kneel! Go inside! Inside!" The hall's interior consisted of a double-storey covered courtyard, then a converted loft where the Mages may rest if they chose to humble themselves, as well as what passed for a shrine paying homage to an unknown Buddha, besides which sat a nine-headed jadestone Naga. "Master and Mistresses." The alderman kowtowed, ignoring Gwen's protest. "Welcome you to La War. I have readied warm meals and baths if that is what you desire." "That would be lovely. Your name, sir?" "Please call this one Shwe, Mistress." "Righto, Shwe. I am Gwen. This is Richard. That's Anita, and over there is Mayuree and Lulan." Gwen decided getting to the business end of things was likely for the best. "Please tell me about the village. How big is it, how many people there are. How many work for the mines. And what's happened so far since the monsoon started." The Mages took their seats in what looked like a meeting room. The alderman remained at attention, commanding the young men and women to bring towels and tea. "We are a village of eight hundred and seventy-two, Mistress Gwen, including the children." The alderman appeared not to know who Mayuree was, which suited Gwen just fine. "The La War jade quarry is five kilometres from here. We are an open quarry, so the rain has not given us too much trouble. About half of our people work there. Manager Mingyi lives on top of the mine itself, overseeing the operation and defending it against poachers." "Poachers?" Gwen raised a brow. "Rogue miners, Mistress." The man nodded. "They have their uses during the dry season, but when they are desperate, they will try to steal raw jade stones at night. It's not so unusual to find a few that have slipped and lost their lives. During the wet season, many fall to their death; others drown in the pits." The party grimaced. "Any major incidents so far? Landslides or other geological incidents?" "We were waiting for your esteemed arrival to clear several blockades formed by the rain, Mistress," the alderman affirmed her hypothesis. "That and we are harassed by rebels now and then, who flee into the mountains after stealing supplies." "Rebels?" Richard snorted. "Working for whom?" The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "For Aung San." The alderman gave Richard a peculiar glance. "They have fortifications in the Arakan mountains, west of Kachin." "Ah." Gwen nodded. "What can you tell me about this Aung San?" "Not much, Mistress," the man said. "The General has not been seen for many years, but occasionally, we get raiding parties who disrupt our mining and raid our village." "What makes you think they're Aung San's forces?" Gwen asked. "The General hasn't been seen since almost thirty years ago, right?" "Who else would attack us?" The alderman's expression appeared offended, as though Gwen was asking if Buddha truly saves. "The Masters from Yangon have assured us that they will keep Aung San in check, though the occasional party slips past the border patrols." What patrols? Gwen exchanged a look with Richard. From Mandalay to Kachin, it was nothing but jungle. "Mayuree, any ideas?" Her expatriate friend shook her head. She wasn't privy to the Burmese operations of the House of M. "Thank you, alderman." Gwen turned her attention back to the old man. "Please be at ease. We will rest for a short while, then go and inspect these collapsed roads. I have a feeling there's likely more work once we get to the mine as well." "Of course, Mistress. Please rest well." The alderman left the Mages in a hurry, leaving the girls behind as servants. "Hello, what's your name?" Gwen said to one of the girls. "…" the girl quailed. "Ariel." Gwen conjured her secret weapon. "Eee!" Ariel appeared with a flash, swishing its tail adorably. "Aeeeee! Buddha protects!" "A monster! Don't eat us!" "Asura!" The girls fled. "Hahaha…" Richard burst into laughter. "Good work. I wanted some quiet, and you've managed just that." Gwen bit her lips. "Don't worry bud, it's not you," she assured her Kirin, who looked offended. Meantime, the downpour continued to bucket down, drumming on the tin room with the cacophony of someone pouring a semi's load of loose gravel. "Let's dry out." Gwen produced a magic cube for dehydrating laundry. "I might take up that bath." "Lord Mages!" The alderman stumbled into the room, noting that only Richard sat in the middle of the converted loft. "It's terrible! We need your aid! Where are the wo- the Mistresses?" "I'll get them." Richard cocked his head at the alderman, studying the man's panic to ensure his distress was genuine. Satisfied, he fired off a Message. "Alright, they're coming. What's wrong?" "Something's happened to the stream!" the man blustered, spraying spittle all over Richard. "It's gone! Just gone!" Gwen and the girls emerged after a few minutes in their magically laundered skin-suits, making the alderman avert his eyes. "Where's it all happening?" "Just upstream. Please do something. Hurry!" Anita raised a finger to berate the bellicose old man, but Gwen interposed with a pat on the shoulder, calling Ariel to her side. "Should all of us go?" Mayuree asked. "We're going together," Gwen affirmed. Upon arrival, it became evident that the alderman's woes were well-founded, as the quickened stream that had swiftly surged only hours prior had now dwindled until it was at half. Considering the deluge that even now flowed into the canal, it was self-evident that something had blocked the stream further up, building up potential energy somewhere out of sight. "If this were Nantong, I would be advising we evacuate about now." Richard drew from a wealth of his experience working in construction for the past year. "My suggestion is we put up barriers and blockages to disrupt and disperse the flow." "Agreed." Gwen flew into the air to survey the surroundings. Under the persistent downpour, the vista of the village had the likeness of a Monet masterpiece. "Let's have retaining barriers starting from the right bank, half a kilometre wide, diverting to the left. We need to spread the momentum of whatever is coming down over a large surface area. Lulu, what do you think?" "I can try putting up those diamond-shaped wave breakers like the ones in Nantong." "You beauty. Anita, you're reinforcing Lulan's obstructions with whatever you can dredge up. Richard, see how much of the silt you can flush out of that stream." "What about me?" Mayuree asked. "Stay here, let everyone know, and keep your Scry active. If you see something coming, get the hell out." "How about you?" "I am heading upstream with my dogs." Gwen did her best to disregard the water stream down her face and into her mouth. "If I can find out what's blocking the river, maybe a wide-area Barbanginy will reduce whatever's coming down next." "Alright," Richard noted the efficacy of Gwen's task-arrangement. "Take care, and D-D back if there are Monsters." "Will do," Gwen said. "Mia, stay close to Richard." "I'll take care of her," Richard passed his cousin a subtle acknowledgement. "Okay!" Mayuree nodded, looking decidedly nervous without Gwen nearby. "Sir Mages, the rice fields…" The alderman was struggling under the weight of the water pouring from the heavens, drenching his conical hat. "Old feller." Richard's stood between the alderman and the girls as they set to work, with Lea forming an umbrella screen to ward away the water. "I don't think you have time to be worrying about your fields. Not when your village could be the next thing to go. Let's get some heads together, and I'll tell you how to keep everyone safe." This time, Gwen spared no expense in deploying her resources. From Wikipedia and Nat-Geo documentaries, not to mention her old Geography teacher, Mr Ayres, she tried to recall what she could. There was abrasion, which pointed to damage dealt by boulders; attrition, meaning something wore out the banks; and hydraulic action, which pointed to water erosion. From the looks of the mountain stream, it was evident that some sort of collapse was inevitable as the villagers had left nature to take its course. As her Lightning Hounds discharged when encased in water, it was up to her Void Hounds to do the job. Compared to the non-elemental variation, the slavering netherworld mouth-on-legs were far more adept at eating through obstacles, be it trees, rocks, monsters or otherwise. Furthermore, even if they were injured, she could revitalise about half their number before her vitality ran into the red. As for her Familiars, she kept Ariel hovering above to ward off the rain while Caliban lurked, invisible but for the persistent drizzle. After passing the village's clearing, the landscape sloped upwards. Where the water in the stream had reduced, Gwen could see the imperilled banks crumbing like waterlogged fondant, with networks of old roots exposed and torn by boulders propelled through the water. Here and there, jagged granite deposits the size of cars validated her fears. "Chakram!" Her attempt at slicing the boulders met with another expectation versus reality lesson of life. Void Chakram couldn't be used in heavy rain. The water consumed her paper-thin disks. Along the way, she encountered the occasional over-ambitious mudskipper, a dozen goblin-like, fish-faced Demi-humans she couldn't identify, a giant salamander creature that fled with surprising speed, and a ten-meter boa that tried to have a go at one of her hounds. More fortuitously, the eroded river revealed a century-old snapper-turtle that attempted to ambush her, only to be dragged out of the mud by her dogs. Naturally, whatever Caliban and or her dogs ensnared fed her vitality, restoring what she had expended. The snapper, in particular, had a nourishing essence. Her only regret was that without Percy, no Core had survived, leaving no tangible resource to be collected. After half-an-hour of leading her dogs through the slog, she reached the source of La War's woe. As expected, a natural levee had formed upstream, ten-meters wide and then some, created by collated trees, leaves, mud and shifting soil catching an exposed escarpment where normally the stream cascaded freely. Thankfully, the rainfall had by now grown sparse, affording Gwen enough visibility to figure out a viable solution. But when her dogs scampered up the waterlogged plateau, they were met with a burst of magic— "GRRRR! Yip!" _CRINK!_ — followed by the distinct sound of an elementally-induced blast. A wave of cold permeated atop the dam. One of Gwen's hounds had instantly expired. Suddenly livid and smarting with sensory feedback, Gwen hastened her ascent, rising above the barrier with a combination of Jump and Flight. "YOU!" she howled at the sight of a familiar face. "YOU?!" The face of Lee Si-won, Vice Captain to Seoul U, stared back at her. "You're the source of those abominations?" But Gwen wasn't interested in the Korean Vice Captain. She was gazing with trembling outrage at the sight of the frigid water sloshing atop an enormous, near-overflowing bank of ice, frozen in place so as to collate into an ever-growing pool. _SO THAT's why the river dried up!_ She immediately recalled what Tei had told her about Seoul's favourite methodology, that winning isn't about winning, but instead having your opponent's fail. Had Seoul known about the landscape and the topography of the villages? Was that why they left so early from Mandalay, going so far as to burn HDMs to mitigate the rain? "Caliban!" "Ssi-bal!" Si-won swore, kicking into action without a second word. "Creeping Ice!" But it wasn't Caliban who came on first, but Gwen's hounds, yelping and yapping as they skittered across the thinly formed ice, slavering with grey goo. Si-won's frost-laden AOE caught the first two dogs as they entered its range, freezing their paws to the water, but the remaining few skittered across the rime. "D-Dimension Door!" Si-won reappeared some hundred-odd meters away. Gwen was in no mood to see the culprit escape. She wanted to drag the man back to base camp, and pending on the bastard's honesty, maybe even have Richard work the prick under with a Lea special. With a Dimension Door of her own, she and two of her dogs appeared less than a metre away, quicker than Si-won could re-orientate his bearings. A splash of tenebrous, nauseating Void-ink splattered all about them, sizzling the ground and consuming all that came into contact. Though the well-trained Acolyte immediately erected a Shield, the unexpected offensive teleport had caught him unaware, sending out a jolt of reactive mana as the defensive spells woven into the fabric activated. "Taser!" Gwen's low level spells now possessed near-instantaneous activation. She lashed Si-won's shield several times in quick succession while her dogs bit and clawed its surface, surprised that they failed to penetrate an Evoker's shield. "Dimension Door!" Si-won made another desperate teleportation back to base. "Ariel! Ball Lightning!" This time, she allowed four orbs to chase down the escaping Evoker before Teleporting in herself to once again close-in with Si-won, knowing that Seoul U's Vice Captain's best spells were all mid-range AOEs. "Shield!" Si-won could do nothing as the deerhounds continued their hunt, covering the distance of a hundred meters in a matter of seconds. Meanwhile, a spider-form Caliban, Hastened and terrible, leapt from tree to tree, aiming for any lapse in his judgement. When he reappeared, the orbs also reached their destination, detonating with terrific force, stripping away his defences. "Icy Eruption!" Si-won pointed a finger some distance away. "Lightning Bolt!" Gwen exchanged spells with her opponent, though it seemed she wasn't the target of Si-won's newest assault. Her bolt caught the Mage in the chest, sending the man staggering backwards. To her wide-eyed surprise, he remained standing. _THUMP! CRACK!_ The ice dam erupted with a terrific noise as a tectonic volume of half-congealed water began to shift. "!" Her Divination Sigil pinged. The feeling of foreshadowing she had felt since seeing the icy levee erupted. She realised with growing dread what Si-won had in store for her friends below. "Caliban, keep him occupied!" She Dimension Doored away from the target of her ire to inspect the damage afflicting the debris-strewn blockade. When she arrived above the Korean-made beaver dam, she could see that the ice magic holding it in place had been withdrawn and that its structural integrity was disintegrating. "Fuck!" she called Ariel to her side. If that morass of ice and mud picked up momentum, it would take out half the fucking village. But what could she do? She wasn't a Water Mage, and so she couldn't divert the stream. She wasn't an Earthen Mage, and so she couldn't erect a barrier to hold the dam. At a time like this, an artillery-Mage like herself was helpless. Against the relentless physics of the natural world, even Barbanginy was no more effective than a low-tier Bolt. "Shaaa!" Caliban's cry came across her Empathic Link. It and the dogs had injured their prey, but then Si-won had disappeared; likely propelled by some defensive item to safety. She commanded her creatures to return, then made a quick calculation for the trip back to La War. She could at best manage two-hundred meters per Dimension Door, and she had at least five kilometres through dense woodland to cover before she could message Mayuree. If she averaged five Dimension Doors per kilometre to make the exhaustive distance, it meant twenty-five continuous casts before she was in range. _CrinK-CRACK!_ The dam gave in to its momentum. The time for doubt was over. The Void sorceress vanished in a flash of thunder and lightning.

By the twentieth Dimension Door, Gwen's vision started to see stars. A forceful circulation of Almudj's Essence brought her rebellious innards into obedience; then she flew for the next minute before activating another five instances of her short-range teleportation. "Mayuree!" her voice roared across the Diviner's projected network. "There's a mudslide incoming! You've got two to three minutes at best!" "Did you blow the blockage?" Richard's voice came through. "My Divination is going off like crazy!" Mayuree informed her. "Did you do something?" "Not me, it's Seoul U, they're trying to rat-fuck us!" Her tone communicated both her anger and her urgency. "Get barriers up; we need to divert this thing. Sacrifice a portion of the village if you have to, get everyone to move up to the central hall!" "Alright, you heard her," Richard commanded the others. "Shwe, get a move on! Lulan, Anita, you're with me. Mayuree, make sure everyone in the village knows!" "Right away!" Meanwhile, Gwen lifted into the air, thankful that the rain had slowed to a thankful drizzle. From her topographic vantage, she could see the movement of the debris bearing down on them merely by tracking the trees being pulled into the undertow as the massive morass of sediments roved across the old riverbed. Whatever was coming was picking up speed and momentum with all the impatience afforded by gravity, taking every advantage of the shallow topsoil. "Scratch that, you've got three minutes!" "Get back here!" Richard informed her. "I need your Barbanginy." Another half-dozen Dimension Doors later, she reappeared pale and disorientated, a hundred meters atop the now chaotic village, watching its denizens milling about like headless chooks. Lulan had constructed two dozen diamond-shaped breakers at the village's eastern border, where the river flowed downhill through the rice fields. In the worst-case scenario, half of the structures should survive the incoming mudslide, though the rice field below looked to be the ultimate victim of Seoul U's ploy. As much as Gwen loathed Si-won, it seemed mass murder wasn't his first intention, though the avoidance of collateral damage certainly wasn't weighing on Seoul's morality scale. "What's she doing?" Gwen asked as Richard approached, his complexion flushed from exertion. Behind him, Anita was excavating something at the eastern border, widening a gap in the earth. "Lea says there's an underground cavern below the eastern edge," her cousin explained. "I want you to collapse the top for us so that when the flood arrives, it'll go into the crevasse." "Is that safe?" Gwen baulked at the possibility of an even bigger landslide as a result of tens of thousands of tons of water and mud gushing into the hill's midst. "At worst, this half of the village will sink." Richard pointed from the first hut to the tiered rice fields. "Careless hydro farming has hollowed out the limestone bedrock; we should explain to the aldermen that it was going to happen sooner or later." "Bloody hell," Gwen spat. Reconstruction wasn't a responsibility with which a team stationed for ten days could be or should be saddled. "Those bastards..." "Don't lose your cool." Richard patted her on the head. "I would have recommended the same. If we too had a geographical advantage, it will take a fool not to make use of it. We'll lose a portion of the village, but the people are safe, and rebuilding isn't impossible." Gwen forcibly rescinded the impulse pressing against the inside of her skull. "Hmm, it's close," Richard remarked as the puddles began to ripple chaotically. Indeed, the land beneath their feet was humming with energy now, sending the villagers into a blind panic. Were it not for Mayuree's village-wide instruction to flee to the hall; the likelier outcome would have been a hundred or more rubberneckers staring at the riverbed, scratching their heads and wondering why the huts were trembling. "INCOMING!" Lulan leapt from one of her recently finished diamond-barriers to take a better gander. "Mao! It's huge!" "I am done!" Anita likewise flew into the air; her Mage Armour covered with silt and mud. "I've widened the chasm. Gwen, do your worst!" "Wait, see how Lulu's barriers do," Richard informed Lea to be ready to redirect the incoming tide. "If—" _CRASH!_ The wall of mud, boulders, branches and uprooted Banyans struck the mounts of earth strengthened by Lulan's iron with a tectonic force. Under the mass of such unfathomable pressure, her diamond-shaped barriers folded like origami, eliciting a gasp of dismay from the wide-eyed Sword Mage. "Well, shit." Richard, who had seen the Nantong Engineers work their magic, now realised there was far more to engineering than met the eye. "Gwen!" The Void sorceress focused her latent energies, tapping all available mana from her Gate of Lightning, pumping pure power through her conduits. "Ariel!" she commanded her Kirin, then charged it with as much Essence as she could humanly muster without popping a cranial artery. In the next instant, the mudflow cleared half of Lulan's barriers, then bore down on the village like a dark tsunami, staggering the very hill upon which La War made its home. Lulan blinked beside Gwen, ready to take her friend to safety should the need arise. Anita lifted herself upward so that she was out of reach of the mud-flow below. Richard meanwhile, poured his mana into Lea, emptying a pressurised deluge of streaming white-water into the crevasse Anita had made earlier. "Thundering Shatter!" Gwen invoked another unique spell gifted to her by Walken. An invocation designed for Air Mages but adapted by the Magister for use with the Lightning element. _BOOM!_ Combined with the power of her Almudj's Essence, the shattering force of the fulminating spell made the earth beneath them jump, shaking plates and clattering chopsticks, freeing spades from anchored racks. There was a brief lull in the noise as their ears rung with tinnitus, then an enormous gash opened across the village's eastern escarpment, followed by thunderous rumbling as the entirety of La War's eastern boundary began to split and part from its granite foundations. From above, a cascade of brown sludge, having consumed Lulan's barriers, raced over the hill, funnelling into the river bed, quickening the collapse of the surface, engendering a crashing waterfall down through the cavern below. Gwen and the party retreated through the air, grim-faced and tired as dogs as the low rumble of falling earth continued unabated for several minutes, filling the gorge below with debris while up top, the overflow decimated the prized rice fields the village had tendered for decades. The villagers, having born witness to the destruction of their home, had not expected the hill itself to give way, taking with it their tiered and tiled livelihood. As the first few minutes of stunned silence passed, they burst into tears, fell to their knees, and began to weep uncontrollably. Their summer harvest was gone! For the simple folk of the mountain: food security ruled over all. As labourers and farmers, they cared not for international competitions, dragons, nor the pride of national institutions of study. With the rice fields intact, they would survive and maybe even thrive. With it gone, they would starve. "O, Lord Buddha have mercy… have mercy!" The alderman led the village in spontaneous prayer. It was all good and well that they had survived, but what about the winter to come? There wasn't enough time left to plant a new batch! As for the party from Fudan, the Mages took the lull in the action to recover some of their mana. Below, the landslide had gone on its merry way, diverted by Richard's quick thinking, gone to plague whoever was downstream, ripping through Kachin's sloped valleys with renewed vigour. "Is it over?" Gwen swallowed, happy at least that there wasn't choking dust thanks to the sudden atmosphere. "It's over." Richard gave her a reassuring squeeze on the arm. "Fuck me, that almost had us dead and buried." "Gwennie!" Lulan hugged her arm, trembling uncontrollably. For a second there, she'd imagined herself jumping at the mud, cleaving it apart with her sword. That would have been very foolish, and short-lived attempt at being useful. "Cao!" Anita was covered from head to toe with cold sweat, drenching her skin-suit. "Mao's tomb, my whole body hurts, and I am not even injured." "Is everyone alright?" Mayuree rejoined the party. "The villagers are accounted for, but…" "If everyone's alive, that's good enough for now," Gwen answered pragmatically, sensing a new ire rise in her chest. "Let's settle things with the village; then we'll discuss Seoul U." This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it After almost an hour wasted assuring the alderman that help would arrive in ten days in the form of food, supplies and Mages, the villager's worst fears were laid to rest. Seizing the opportunity, Gwen then willed a mote of Essence into her being and pacified the crowd by stating that the great sacrifice of rice had now placated the mountain spirits. To further hearten the peasants that they would be alright, Gwen deposited a hundred HDMs into an urn which she then gifted to the alderman for his quick thinking in saving the village, instantly bringing the labourers back to their side and absolving the future drama that would have followed had the mine's workers turned against the students. With funding, she explained, they could buy plants and equipment, not to mention rice for the winter and new rice for planting in spring. As Buddha wills, she told them, their misfortune shall herald a better tomorrow. "What now?" Anita brooded darkly, glancing toward the north. By the time she and Lulan had reinforced the new landscape as best as they could, it was already night. "Gwen, we can't just let this go." "Of course not." Gwen sat cross-legged in a singlet and running shorts, fanning her legs with a scented banana leaf. "First thing tomorrow I am going to head toward Mogaung and contact the Kyoto team. I'll convince them that working together against Seoul will be for the benefit of the locals, as well as each of us. For all we know, Seoul may have made a move against them as well." "What about Jiantong?" "Jiantong is an unknown. If I can get Kyoto on our side, Jiantong can either play ball or get rat-fucked by Seoul. Neither of their captains seems the trustworthy kind." "Ha!" Lulan puffed. "Oh, I shouldn't laugh." "Laugh! Laugh all you want. We'll have the last laugh!" Gwen growled. "I still can't believe we almost lost the bloody village. Imagine that, our IIUC could have been over just like that." "You have no idea," Richard butted in with a horrifying hypothesis. "If I were Sung Lee, I wouldn't be unleashing the mudslide in broad daylight." "…" The rest party sat with their mouths open, unable to fathom such brazen ruthlessness. "Those bangzi arseholes!" Anita made her opinion known. "Pretty sure it's just the Lees," Gwen muttered. Indeed, the Machiavellian accomplishments of Korea's Chaebol were legendary in her old world. For a world of magic and monsters, where those with power and influence ruled unconstrained by the rule of Law, she could only imagine what little regard the princelings possessed for the lives of several hundred third-world villagers. "Want me to come with?" Richard stretched, lying down so that his head rested on her thigh comfortably. He met her eyes, appeasing some of her anger. "If Jiro was here, he could probably build some rapport for you with their Kotodama guy." "Ichiro?" "That's the one." Richard closed his eyes to rest. "We shouldn't remain only on defence though. Maybe a little offensive of our own? Slaughtering each other's villagers will likely fail the quest outright. I think Seoul was trying to instigate a little 'accident', something like unforeseen collateral damage. Which means we could likewise prevent their progress, so long as the villagers are safe. Didn't you say Ariel could speak to Wildland beasts?" "They sort of pantomime while I guess the content, its charades all the way," Gwen confessed. "Remember that horde of monkeys we saw? The one waving at us and throwing fruit?" "Richard, that wasn't fruit-" "Well, their diet must be high in fruit-fibre. I reckon you have something they'd want." "Such as?" Richard grinned. "Assuming these are Leaf-Macaques, they won't be able to resist a good bottle of booze." "Ah…" Gwen realised what Richard was getting at. If she could utilise the Milu, why not some other local fauna? "That's evil." "Good people get cheated, just as good horses get ridden," Richard appropriated a well-known Confucian proverb. "Seoul can do as they will, but I'd be shocked if they lack complete disregard for their village. Why don't you see what you and Ariel can round up?" "Sounds like I'll need navigation and detection then, Mia, can you come with?" Gwen asked, feeling safer if she could keep an eye on Mayuree. "Sure!" Mayuree pipped up. Following Richard's lead, she then laid her head on Gwen's opposite thigh. "Mmmm, comfy!" Lulan balled her fists, her breath quickening. Anita stifled a laugh, "Let's rest up." The party had chosen to sleep in the converted loft of the town's central hall. If they happened to be inside the Habitat and if another incident were to occur, it was unlikely any of them would notice until it was too late. For further insurance, Gwen had her Lightning Hounds on patrol, Ariel guarding up top, and the sleepless Caliban slithering below. Concurrently, Richard had Lea patrolling the stream, while Mayuree set up Alarm beacons at distanced intervals. Richard was the first to fall sleep, perfectly happy with his Gwen pillow, smirking at Lulan's crestfallen expression. Fudan's Vice Captain rolled her eyes, then resigned herself to a night of meaningful meditation, restoring her spent Essence in anticipation of tomorrow. Early the next morning, Gwen took a cold and soapy shower at the hall's back to enliven herself, then dried off and slipped back into the taut skin-suit. Though the rain had ceased, the heavy clouds hovering here and there suggested it could turn within the hour. "Mia, ready?" Her partner for the day likewise dressed, though the quasi-magical suit fitting Mayuree had been appended with a suite of protective items from rings to amulets to bracelets. While Richard, Lulan and Anita worked to stabilise the village's exterior and clear the road to the mine, she and Mayuree had several stops to make. The first was Mogaung, where Kyoto should have set up camp, followed by a heavily forested region where the party had spotted legions of quasi-magical monkeys yesterday. After the fact, she would loop through the south and make for the first of the villages, Kamaing, to suss Jiantong's willingness for cooperation. With Mayuree in tow, Gwen blasted through the air at full-tilt, leaving a trail of dissipating Lightning as she raced through the mountain, threading through the gorges, shattering the peace. Half a kilometre from the Mogaung, Gwen halted in the air. There was a giant in the village. At first, she had thought Kyoto had brought a bloody Golem with them, but even for construction Golems, the damned thing was far too heavy. That and it lacked signs of mechatronic artifice. The automaton appeared more like a playdoh toy, a sort of brown, rotund Michelin man. "Ichiro! Yuki! It's Gwen Song from Fudan; I request parley!" Her projected voice echoed across the valley. It took a minute for the Kyoto Mages to respond. When they did, it was in the form of a ponderous giant moving toward her, stomping through the jungle, parting trees with its clumsy hands. From above, the facade of the Japanese goliath almost looked cute, with a blank slate for a face, and two sunken dots for eyes. "Gwen-san!" Yuki appeared at the head of the doll in the literal sense, lifted from its earthen scalp. "Yuki-san, you're driving that thing?" Gwen spluttered. "That's cool bananas." "Haha, it's nothing, Gwen-san. You're too modest." Yuki bowed, as did the giant, slowly. "What do you think? My Kami's name is Dororo-kun. He's an Earthen Spirit, isn't he cute?" "Your Spirit is a three-storey mud-man?" Gwen grew doubly impressed. "Where do you stash him?" Yuki giggled. "No, Gwen-san, this is a collection of all the local Kami who agreed to help!" "Right." Gwen gave her a thumbs up. "It's true." Mayuree baulked, running a Detect Magic over the creature. "Gwen, that thing is full of Spirits! They're tiny, but there are thousands of them!" "Mayuree-san, welcome." Yuki bowed again. "Please follow me. You may rest on Dororo-kun if you wish." Dororo lifted a giant stump of a limb, upon which Gwen and Mayuree gingerly alighted on the giant's head. "Dororo's is... alive!" Gwen placed a hand on the creature's exterior, where an elegant bed of turf had grown. "Wow." "You are too kind, Gwen-san." Yuki's attention wandered, searching for Ariel. Gwen obliged by having the Kirin materialise inches away from the Japanese Miko, eliciting an excited squeal. "Ariel-sama! I am happy you are well!" From the village below came the sound of cheering, which to Gwen was jarring, especially considering the lukewarm reception they had received themselves and the fact that Imperial Japan's past atrocities had burned so vividly in the minds of those living in Yangon. When they alighted from the giant, Gwen finally grasped just how massive Dororo-kun truly was. It was as though a townhouse was moving through the landscape, yet where it's bridge-breamed sized feet landed, the ground did not deform. Instead, every step seems to invoke spurts of natural growth, germinating grass and mushrooms. Awaiting for them below was three more of Yuki's religiously attired compatriots and Ichiro. "Gwen-san." Ichiro went through the motions. "Ariel-sama." "Eee!" "Of course, Ariel-sama." The Mages produced crystals for Ariel, making Gwen decidedly embarrassed, like a mother whose child had been caught begging for lollies. Beside them, Ariel's HDM treats caused the NoMs to gape with jealousy. "Masahiro-san, Yamato-san, Hiroki-san, well met." Gwen nodded. "Ichiro-san, its good to see you again as well. I am here today to talk to you about Seoul U." "Ah." Ichiro passed a glance back and forth with Yuki. "Did you manage to stop their man-made landslide?" "You knew?" Gwen raised a brow. "Why didn't you stop them!" Mayuree reflexively accused their opponents. "Mia, shush," Gwen chided her Diviner. "Why would Kyoto stop Seoul's ploy against us? It's not like they owe us anything." "I was sure you would figure something out, Gwen-san." Ichiro was starting to remind Gwen of Walken in some ways. Maybe it was their aura or that semi-rigid smile that they both wore. Richard had said that Ichiro was the brain of the operation and he should be the one she should win over. "We did, and everyone's safe," Gwen affirmed the man's mocking confidence. "How about your side?" "Dororo-kun took care of it." Yuki nodded toward her conjured Familiar, assuming it could be regarded as such. "The spirits forewarned us, and we were able to chase off their Captain before he could collapse the horn of the mountain." Gwen looked up to see that Kyoto's village was sheltered under an igneous protrusion, likely a large slab of granite, the sort that was prone to having segments flake off in the event of seismic activity. For a well-trained Magma Mage, it wasn't impossible to manifest a controlled, but malicious catastrophe. Now that dozens of villagers had emerged to ogle the friendly Ariel, Gwen couldn't help but notice that the number of Demi-humans far exceeded La War, which had been entirely human but for a few with the occasional hint of reptile. Here, at least half of the villagers showed some sign of adaptation to the mana and essence-rich environment. "The Spirits are abundant where the ley-lines meet." Yuki noticed her wandering eyes. "We do not mind. Transgenesis is common in Kyoto. The old Capital is a cosmopolitan city, unlike Tokyo, or your Shanghai." "I see." Gwen could only guess at what "transgenesis" meant. Instead, she moved to push forward her case for cooperation. "Yuki-san, Ichiro-san, I would like to propose a temporary alliance between the two of our academies against Seoul University, are you willing to hear me out?" "Had we not offered back in Yangoon?" Ichiro answered in Yuki's place. "Kyoto will not lose to anyone, but we do not like the methods used by the citizens of our old colony." Sung Lee might murder you for that comment, Gwen though, masking her immediate dismay. "Good. I am sure that you're all aware that our objective is less mutual sabotage, and more so to do with the delivery of supplies to the villages, the securing of the local district, and the re-opening of the mines. There's that, and the welfare of the local populace." "Agreed." Ichiro studied Gwen's face. "That is also how we like to do things." "Shall we agree then to a non-aggression defence pact? I shall speak to Jiantong as well, although I don't believe they will be very pliable." "Gwen-san," Ichiro halted her proposal. "Ichiro-san?" "What makes you think we may not ask you to remain a guest here?" Ichiro said suddenly. "Wouldn't that assure our victory?" "Ichiro-kun!" Yuki snapped at her Vice Captain. "Ariel-sama will not allow such a thing!" Mayuree sidled closer to Gwen. "You could try." Gwen smirked, squaring her composure while she bluffed. "On the other hand, Caliban's out and about, hungry as always. It would be a shame if a terrible misunderstanding occurred. In my haste to escape, it could get nasty." "I jest." Ichiro nodded agreeably, satisfied with her answer. "For Yuki-sama's sake, we will trust you, for liars and those with evil hearts are anathema to a celestial Kami." "Sure." Gwen met the man's gaze head-on. "Once our villages are safe, and our routes clear, we can settle matters amongst ourselves. Who has done more for their hamlet, improved the local conditions and produced the most jadeite- Let's have a match exactly as the Chief Proctor intended."

That Ichiro alone accompanied Gwen while Yuki and the others stayed behind hinted to her that perhaps, Dororo-kun's maintenance wasn't so easily sustainable. Juxtaposing the Imperial Metric System, Kyoto's native sorcery was an eye-opening integration of Western spellcraft into a system of magic that operated on an entirely different resource - in this case, Kami, or the Spirits of the land. When she questioned Ichiro on the matter, the lanky young man carefully volunteered that in Kyoto, the practice of Onmyōdō, the Path of Yin and Yang, had ruled the Japanese psyche for aeons. Rather than separating from the natural world, Mikos, Onmyoji, and the Yamabushi, esoteric ascetics of the _Ya-o-Yorozu no Dō_ , the way of eight million gods, chose to live among their Demi-human kin. Though initially a contentious divide that sowed tensions between Kyoto and Tokyo, the rise of the Grey Faction in the Mageocracy eventually saw Kyoto's philosophy as an exemplar of peaceful co-existence. "I would love to visit one day." Gwen tried to imagine a city full of crow-men and cat-girls, with the latter proving to be a sure hit with a particular demographic of visitors. "And you are welcome to, Gwen-san," Ichiro smoothly answered. "We shall be expecting you. In spring, the Sakura of Gion is in full bloom, while the mermaids sing and strum the shamisen; held aloft by lanterns in a floating world." "Wow..." Mayuree cooed. "How wonderful." Dreaming of a mystic Kyoto, Gwen and her party moved toward their next objective, what Ichiro termed "Sarugami Hill" - the domain of the monkey king. "Gwen-san." Ichiro's tone was cautiously optimistic. "In Nagano, the Saru-Kami has its domain in Jogokudani. In my experience, they are proud, chaotic and unruly. How do you hope to tame them and bend them to your cause?" "I have Ariel." Gwen patted her pseudo-Kirin, eliciting a purr. "I've got plenty of food in my ring, as well as a cache of special sauce." "Special… sauce?" Ichiro tasted the words, hoping the synaesthesia would provide a clue. "You'll see." The trio took almost an hour before Mayuree indicated that she could sense a dense clump of creatures somewhere to their south. As the rain waned, Gwen recognised the landscape for the one which they had passed along the way. "Ariel, go and parley." Gwen graced her Familiar with a generous dose of Essence, eliciting a curious glance from the Shugenja. "Bring me their leader." "The Saru-Kami are more willful than you think," Ichiro warned her. "Will Ariel-sama be safe?" "Sure." Gwen nodded. At worst, a burst of Dragon-fear should bring the monkeys to order, or scatter them. Several minutes later, a great hoot went up from the hills, followed by the swarming of what must be ten-thousand bodies roving across the treetops. When Ariel reported that all was well, Gwen led Ichiro and Mayuree into the midst of a horde of macaques hanging from every branch of every tree. "EEEE!" "Eek eek, ook!" "EE, EE?" "Ook! Hoo hoo, Eek!" "EE, EE?" "Incredible!" Ichiro was genuinely impressed. "You can understand the language of the wild Kami?" Gwen lowered her eyes. "No need for modesty. You are truly blessed, Gwen-san." Jesus, she cringed. How could she confess to him now that all she heard were monkey noises? That and Ariel only responded via vague sentiments? "Ook! Ook! EEEK!" Suddenly, the whole forest burst into clamour, forcing Ichiro and Mayuree to cover their ears. An enormous macaque descended from a tree, almost as tall as Gwen, with golden fur, dark, intelligent eyes and most saliently, a glaringly red ass. "Ook! Ook! EEK!" it began to speak. "What's happening now, Gwen-san?" "I don't know! I don't understand a word they just said!" Gwen yelled back, her face flushed as a pippin. "Ariel understands, but I can't comprehend complex thoughts." Ichiro appeared betrayed. Sighing, he formed a strange Sigil with his hands and fingers. "O Kami of the forest, heed the call of this humble servant. Allow your wisdom to correct our imperfect speech." A bright spark manifested where the Yamabushi stood, growing more solid until it took on the form of a mud-monkey. "Ook? Ee-eek? Oo? Hoo…" Something passed between the monkey statue and the "Sarugami". "It says that a Mage killed its mate," Ichiro translated. "Er... ninth mate." "Macaques can be polygamous?" Gwen spluttered. "And he has a harem?" "The Boss is the Matriarch of the family…" "Oh." Gwen bowed her head toward the regal Matriarch. That the monkeys had a female monarch was pleasing to know. "What do they think of Ariel's proposal? Are they willing to harass Nanmati village in exchange for my reward?" "The special sauce?" Ichiro waited to see what Gwen would produce. "She would like to taste it first." "Very well." Gwen stepped forward. She willed into being a bottle of Maotai, then unstopped the seal with a flourish, suddenly filling the space with a delicious scent of fermented sorghum. "OOK!" The Matriarch performed a backflip. The rest of the horde salivated. Richard was right. In the Bestiary, it stated that Wildland macaques were famous for brewing "Monkey Wine" from quasi-magical fruits and that their immense strength and intelligence were all in part associated with these quasi-alchemical concoctions. As such, the older the monkey, the more appreciation they had for good liquor. But she wasn't done yet. Congealing a drop of Almudj's emerald Essence on her fingertip, she allowed it to drip into the bottle, infusing the crystal liquid with a viridescent magnificence. "That's…" Ichiro's composure melted in the face of unexpected divinity. "OOK! OOK!" Taking Gwen's hand in its pink, hairless fingers, the "Boss" took a hearty swig from the bottle. "Ook! Ook! Ook!" it howled, sending out a great cacophony. "Five bottles," Ichiro translated, calming himself. It was impossible that the girl was a land-god. She did not study the _Dō_. An _Ōkami_ would never possess a stranger. After half-an-hour of "Ooks" and "EEK!", Gwen traded two hundred-cans of SPAM and three bottles of Essence-infused Maotai for the Sarugami's support. According to the Matriarch, her man had curiously ventured too close to some Mages when without warning, one of them used air to crush her lover against a tree, then left without even eating the poor bugger, a greater sin than the first. "Ook! Ook! Eek-Ook!" "Are we good?" Gwen asked Ichiro after explaining who the likely culprit was. "They agree," Ichiro nodded. "She says to show them what to do." "Show them what to do?" Gwen scratched her head, mimicked by a hundred macaques. Having never harassed a rural village in either life, she had thought the monkeys the mercenary experts. "Tell them when and where we'll meet. I'll figure something out." The allied party's next stop was Kamaing, Jiantong's domain. Kamaing, like La War, was a saddle village with a deep gorge that fed on the estuaries running downhill from the Arakan basin into the Irrawaddy river. At its furthermost edge, it housed the Monastery Of Mahawithudayama, a sizeable temple of four hundred monks sitting adjacent to a village of almost a thousand souls, making it the most populated of the four. As they flew into range, what was disconcerting was that a massive landslide had visibly carved through the lowland. Though the debris had spared the town itself, it was self-evident that the village's access to the southern highway and the estuaries connecting it to the main river had been cut off. "To think Seoul had even planned for this!" Ichiro sucked in a breath of cold air. "I am both disgusted and impressed." Fuck me, that's on us, Gwen perspired, wiggling a brow at Mayuree in case the Diviner's honesty got the best of her. If one followed the path of the mudslide, she could bet it led straight back to La War. Topographically, each of the university's assigned villages sat within the region's rolling hills, with La War and Kamaing on one end, and Nanmati and Mogaung on the other. Together, the four areas formed a sort of oblong circuit. Mogaung had the highest overall elevation, followed by Seoul's Nanmati, then La War and finally, occupying the fertile lowland was Jiantong's Kamaing. "Halt!" Ichiro stopped the party from advancing about five hundred meters out. "There's something here. Diviner, what can you see?" Mayuree had sensed something as well, though her premonition operated on unease and danger rather than wisdom. "One second." She slowed to a standstill. "Detect Magic! Scry!" A few moments later, the Diviner turned to her party with an apologetic expression. "I can't see anything," she lamented. "There's a barrier set up, and there's Illusion Magic all over the place." "Must be their Vice Captain, that or the Fuda user," Ichiro affirmed Mayuree's findings. "Why not both?" Gwen shrugged. She took a deep breath, then activated Clarion Call. "Jiantong, this is Fudan and Kyoto. We are at the edge of your boundary! We demand parley!" A moment later, an illusory projection of none other than Kurou appeared. "Well, bugger. How awkward." Gwen blinked at the image of the visibly gloating Kurou. "Hello, Song Shimei," the horse-faced young man neighed. "Whatever your proposal, allow me to say Cao-Ni-Ma. We will not be entertaining your hare-brained schemes, not until you Fudan fools beg for forgiveness. We know that landslide came from La War, and even now, Ying shixiong and my allies from Emei are taking care of your deserter from Huashan—" "SHIT!" Gwen grabbed Mayuree by the arm, revving up a Dimension Door. "Ichiro! We're going back to La War! Catch up if and when you can!" _Klang!_ _Krung!_ _KUNG!_ "Hei-ya!" Lulan contorted her spine so steeply as to form a perfect U, narrowly avoiding the pair of swords just grazing her hair. "Plum-flower Strike!" Vicki's sword reversed course mid-swing, slicing downward without warning, scraping across her metallic flesh, parting Lulan's skin-suit. "Five-Petal Gale!" Below, as though a blooming white-yellow plum flower, five illusory swords caught Lulan's legs, scoring hits across her boots, her calves and her thighs. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. "Sweep!" Lulan desperately attempted to protect her upper torso from the girls, parrying one blow with Anita's crystalline Mage Armour while battering away Vicki's swing with her iron-clad arm. "Misty Step!" "Blossom Burst!" The girls were relentless, reappearing a second behind Lulan as she sought to lead the fight away from Richard. Not too far from where the girls fought, Richard stood in front of a collapsed Anita, already pale-faced and staggered from a sword blow that had dealt no visible wound but had dropped her like a rock. "We should finish this quickly." Ying Xiang stood with both hands open, like a man hawking wares at a market. Behind the Sword Mage, twin swords hovered in the air as though feathers tangled in a current, behaving as the wind behaves. "Care to make this easy?" "Sorry mate, I don't think so," Richard remained entirely relaxed. "Got to give you Clanners credit though. That was a slick hit." "You flatter me." The Captain of Jiantong inclined his head. "I dare say she would have returned to Shanghai in a burst of Conjuration were it not for your water ghost. May I commend you for deflecting a blow from my Flowing Snowdrift Style." "Commend away." Richard glanced at the empty sky. "Fair warning though. Gwen should be back soon." "As you will. Silk-cutting Sword!" The lengthier of the twin swords flew through the air with a melodious whisper, making for Richard's throat. "Lea! Water Shield!" The Water Mage's command activated simultaneously. Around Ying, a water prison began to manifest, quickly enclosing the Captain while around Richard, a Water Shield parried the sword indirectly, wary of its collated mystical energy, misdirecting the blow without directly confronting its momentum. "Hmmph!" Ying Xiang grunted, sensing his attacks being neutralised. Taking the crafty Water Mage would be far more complicated than the Mineral Abjurer, who had made the mistake of taking a direct blow, deceived by the strike's illusory gentleness. "Cloud Ascending Step!" With a stomp, Ying teleported some ten meters into the air, eluding Lea's Water Prison. "Rain of Blades!" The second implement, his heart-sword, split into two dozen sword-spears before descending upon Richard and Anita. "Cresting Wave!" Richard saw no need to move. Before the swords could hit, a breaking crest of water, manifesting as a fantastical fountain, broke overhead, diverting the swords so that they penetrated blade to the hilt into the soil, missing their targets. In the distance, Richard noted that Lulan wasn't faring well against the Emei sisters at all. Despite his bluff, he had no idea if Gwen was going to make it back to base before their mana was exhausted, whatever was to happen, he couldn't allow Lulu to be disabled or Anita to be teleported back. _Tsing!_ The blade of Ying's main-hand sword penetrated Richard's shield without warning, then stabbed into Richard's shoulder. "Focus, Mister Huang!" Ying pushed the sword deeper, but despite his exaltation, disappointment came just as quick when the sword passed through Richard's body, taking with it a chunk of Richard's skin-suit, but with no visible spray of red. "I can do this all day. You should have used that mystical magic you put into Anita." "I really should have," Ying agreed wholeheartedly. "But the IUCC isn't the place for butchery. Are you tempting me to kill you outright?" "Nah, Mate, I am notoriously hard to kill." Richard pointed a finger back at his assailant. "Too bad you won't get a second chance. Lea!" His Undine burst into fine particles of mist, shrouding Richard and Anita. "Cloud-leaping Step!" Ying cursed, clearing the sodden space the Undine now occupied. If the spray had caught him, Mao knew what would have happened. The truth was he was at a disadvantage against a soft-defence expert like Richard, especially considering his Familiar was impossible to track and could act wholly independently. If they weren't in a competition, he could have used a Fuda to dispel the Familiar, but for now, Jiantong's Abjurer was back in their village, protecting the town against outside incursions. Ying made a feint, forcing Richard to raise his shield. "Misty Step!" "Shit!" Richard cursed, realising Ying had abandoned him and Anita and had gone straight for Lulan. The girl held her own against the twins, but it didn't take a Clanner to realise her Huashan Style was a horrible match-up against an armour breaking specialist from Wutang. "LULAN! TO ME!" Lulan's response was immediate. After so many months adventuring together, her trust in Richard was no less than her faith in Gwen. "Misty Step!" Abandoning her swing and even her defence, she took a shot to the right breast, which deflected off Anita's armour, then copped a blow to her left arm, gashing her flesh an inch deep. The unexpected opening had surprised the two Emei girls, who understood their mistake when Ying appeared a brief second behind where Lulan had been, signalling the girls to use their mana potions. Lulan meanwhile, rallied within range of Richard. _Psssht!_ A healing injector stanched the blood seeping from two dozen injuries. "Xiang shixiong, do we continue?" the Emei girls asked. Ying's hesitation lasted only a second. "Flank them; we have to send at least one of their Earthen Mages home." "Ariel, Barbanginy as soon as we D-D into range!" "No! Not yet!" Ichiro obstructed Gwen from instantly teleporting into the fray. The team had come in stealth, with Mayuree running a Scry on La War from the dense woodland surrounding the village. When she reported that Anita was down and out and that Richard and Lulan now bathed in blood, Gwen's preeminent redress was triple-homicide. "Don't you dare." Gwen glared at Ichiro dangerously, her green eyes threatening to swallow the man bones and all. "You have two seconds to make your case." "Temper!" Ichiro knitted his brows. "For the servant of a Kirin-sama, you have much to learn from Yuki, Gwen-san. Your companions are safe for now, and we have unexpectedly caught up. Why waste this opportunity?" "He's right." Mayuree tugged at Gwen's skin-suit. "I've got a... er... good feeling about this?" At Mayuree's behest, Gwen suppressed her boiling Essence, wondering just how is it that dragons dealt with an ego consisting of pure clumps of elemental energy. "If you trust me." Ichiro's lips curled upwards, studying Ariel's master as he spoke his next words with great care and conviction. "Then you must first wait..." "Wait? For how long?" Gwen pictured Lulan's torn and bleeding body with a growl. "Even Buddha's patience has a limit..." "I am at my alchemical limit." "Me too," Richard remarked. "Shall we-" _Ding! Ding!_ Like a celestial choir drawn from seventh heaven, Gwen's voice crackled across the private channel. "Lulu," a command came across loud and clear. "Drop a Panzerschreck on one of the Emei girls, either one's fine, pick the one that cut you. Do it now before they notice, in one... two..." Lulan needed no second guessing, nor did she hesitate to immediately began gathering what was left of her latent energies, her mana now buoyed by hope and happiness. With a grunt of supreme effort, all her anger and frustration manifested into a final spell before she was OoM. "Panzerschreck!" _Splash!_ A shrieking blur flew past Richard's shield, ignoring the liquid defence. _Thunk!_ Faster than the eye could follow, her unexpected assault struck the weaker of the Emei girls square in the stomach, catching her midway through a spell. A micro-second of bewildered incredulity followed before Vivian folded like a prawn, spraying pink-mist from her lips, then tumbled through the air like a rag-doll. Lulan turned to regard Richard, struggling to perceive that Gwen's concept of a solid-projectile could be so powerful as to negate the innate defensive magic all Sword Mages trained since childhood. What the duo had hoped was that the Panzerschreck would blow the Jiantong Mages some distance away to be caught by their allies, but neither of them had expected Lulan would fold the sister like a paper crane. Then came Gwen's next command. "Richard! All attack! We're coming in hot!" "HALT!" A thunderous command fulminated across Vivian, Vicki and Ying's Message channel just as Ying forewarned his Clan sisters about the build-up of earthen mana from Huashan's deserter. Unbidden, the fatigued trio ceased all movement and stifled all thought, their Astral Souls suddenly alienated from their bodies. _THUNK!_ A Heart-seeking Sword caught Vivian square in the abdomen. Besides her, Vicki, who shared a sympathetic link with her twin-sister, blanched as her body ignited with nerve-fraying agony. Unlike the girls, Ying's recovery was near-instant. He dived for Vivian, understanding the trouble he would be in if one of the prized twins of Emei died under his watch. The IIUC could wait, and the girls could try again next year, but if one of them perished, that was the end of Emei's hopes and dreams for the next decade. _Crack!_ His heart sank. Trouble always travelled in multitudes. A Dimension Door completed its manifestation, accompanied by a bolt of blue-white plasma, then finally, the boom of a familiar voice reverberating the horizon. "...Chain Lightning!" Richard stopped Lulan before she somehow squeezed out another Panzerschreck, in her excited state, anything was possible. Above, a coil of electricity pivoted past the pirouetting Vivian, struck Ying's staggering body, then moved onto Vicki. Still stunned, the Emei Sword Mage put up no barrier nor resistance, merely allowing the spell to run its course before she too fell from the sky like a wilted flower. Jiantong's Captain fared better, just managing a stoic parry before he impressively caught the first falling girl, then performed a mid-air Misty Step to pluck the second one, swallowing Gwen's attack without so much as a grimace. "I YIELD!" he shouted toward the direction from which the electricity had emitted. "STOP ATTACKING!" "Gwen!" Lulan squealed, mangling Richard's liquid arm in her excitement. "I knew you'd be back!" "And earlier than expected." Richard bit back the pain. "I wonder what happened at Kamaing? I hope it's still standing." Ichiro scratched his nose, doubly impressed by the regular manifestation of Gwen's Chain Lightning. Her range, accuracy and power were all far above the Lightning Mages he had seen back home, and to think she was so much younger than his peers. Of course, Jiantong's Captain was incredible as well. Whatever the man did to withstand a tier 6 blast from Gwen, it marked him as someone equally extraordinary. "That was amazing." Gwen marvelled at the Kotodama user's unexpected prowess, which they had routed through Jiantong's Message channel after Mayuree tweaked her magic. "I'd hate to be on the receiving end of one of those power words." "I got lucky," Ichiro confessed. Catching their fatigued, anxious and unsuspecting opponents off-guard was the only reason the seasoned Combat Mages had lost their composure. Usually, Kotodama was utilised for commanding Kami. Against someone like the Void sorceress, whose body brimmed with Essence, he doubted the girl would even flinch. "I YIELD!" Their opponent made his case, carrying a girl in each arm. "ACCEPTED." Gwen's face finally discarded the murderous aura she had earlier worn with vim and passion. "Let's see how pliable they are." The trio emerged from the village's western tree line, joining Lulan and Richard who princess-carried the unconscious Anita. Far from the Mages, safely tucked away in the town above, the entirely of La War's citizens gawked at the aftermath of the Mage battle, etching every detail of the titanic struggle to be passed on with every intention of gross exaggeration in subsequent retellings. "I am going to perform triage before their Contingency Rings activate." Ying Xiang threw down his swords before landing on the soft turf and lowering the girls to the floor. His gaze swept from Gwen to Ichiro and back, comprehension dawning in his eyes. "Then we talk." "Granted." Gwen brought out both Ariel and Caliban, so that together with Ichiro, Mayuree, Richard and Lulan, they had Jiantong surrounded above and below. Ying gave her a cautious glance before producing two healing injectors for the girls, stabbing the syringes into their thighs. When a flush of colour returned to the girl's battered bodies, he furthermore produced three pills, one for himself and the larger ones for the Emei sisters. While the girls moaned and squirmed as their flesh mended, he poked about their torso, activating some indecipherable fount of mystical energy. Finally, he turned to Richard. "Here, take this— for your Mineral Mage." Richard caught the pill, a dark herbal sphere with a sweet, fragrant scent. "Take it orally. It'll heal internal injuries, as well as concussions. Expect a day or two before she recovers." "Ying, what do you have to say for yourself?" Gwen demanded. "Why did you attack us?" "Why?" Ying placed a finger on each of the girls' necks, then let out a strangled breath. "You attacked us first, didn't you? The landslide came from your village." Gwen looked at Richard, who shrugged. "That was Seoul U." Gwen pointed to the eastern border of La War, where a quarter of the village had now turned into cliff-side villas with a view. "Not us." "Whatever you say," Ying retorted, fully accepting of the outcome regardless of the rationale. "You're the victors. I hadn't expected you to return so soon, and most certainly not with a Jap in tow. What can I say? What isn't meant to be- isn't meant to be." "The pleasure's all mine, Xiang-san." Ichiro bowed. "I don't suppose you're thinking of leaving, just like that?" "And why not?" Ying nodded. "You bested our assault and defended your base. Good work. Keen to grill or boil us?" "You hope to continue the competition?" Richard said. "Do you have a better idea?" Ying smirked. "Maybe you shouldn't be going home so readily," Gwen suddenly interjected. "Care to know why I got here so quickly? Why I knew how and where to ambush you?" Ying raised a sceptical brow. "Your brother-in-craft, Kurou, rat-fucked you." Gwen smirked in return, allowing her mocking laughter to trickle through the air like birdsong. "He told us where you would be, and in exchange, we had to make sure you wouldn't return to Wutang in one piece." "Kurou? No way." Ying's face was all smiles, but Fudan's Mages could all spot the vein throbbing on his forehead. There was no amount of bluff that could mask the equivalent of a scarlet centipede bulging against Ying's skull. "He wouldn't dare!" "You can ask him later." Gwen raised her dominant hand, forming a Chakram hoving above her dominant hand, causing her party to gawk. "Left or right arm? Maybe a leg? I can tell you now; anything consumed by my Void doesn't grow back." "WAIT!" "Caliban!" "I SAID WAIT!" Her Familiar opened up into its Spider Form, polluting the space where Ying stood with a torrent of Void-induced vertigo. Caliban grew into a horrific six-foot arachnid. "Don't forget to tell Kurou he owes me." Her Dragon-fear flooded the air. "He's promised to cooperate." "STOP! WE FORFEIT!" Ying wailed through clenched teeth. "As Captain of Jiaotong, I declare Jiantong forfeits!" Gwen's monster settled down. "Very well, Fudan and Kyoto bear witness to your forfeit." Gwen's voice was cooler than a cucumber. "You may now leave. Tell Kurou to make for Hpakan at first opportunity. If you need healing supplies, we're happy to spare some for our fellow competitors." "No need." Ying's shoulders slumped, all tension draining from his body. "Cao, tell me, have I been had?" "No hard feelings." Gwen struck out a hand to shake the man's hand. _"Touche."_ Ying recalled their first meeting, meeting her halfway. "Maybe this is for the best. We won't have made it far, not with our internal problems." Meanwhile, Mayuree and Lulan helped the Emei girls on their feet. "Thank you for your mercy, Song shimei." Vivian coughed. From the looks of bloodstains trailing from her facial orifice, several months of physiotherapy would likely follow. "Likewise, Li shimei." Vicki stooped. "I hope we meet again under better circumstances." "Yes." Lulan wasn't sure how to respond, just a few minutes ago, they were at each other's throats. "Anytime." Gwen offered them each a handshake. "It's a competition, and we are all creatures of necessity. Oh, and Ying?" "Yes?" "Thank Kurou for us." Ying's jaws clenched and unclenched. "I will." "Good." Gwen grinned. "Have fun." "..." Ying retrieved his swords. "We shall take our leave. Goodbye, and good luck." The moment their opponents were out of sight, Gwen fussed over Anita and Lulan's wounds. Conversing with Richard, she applauded the help she had received from Ichiro and elucidated their current alliance. "So, how'd we do?" Gwen flashed a grin at the lanky Kotodama user. "That was all thanks to you. Lots of CCs for Kyoto, I bet." Ichiro mulled for a moment before answering, opening his mouth to speak, but struggling to express his conflicted feelings. "You are too modest." The man met Gwen's green and gleaming eyes with a complicated disposition. The wooden gaze he held was of someone who had raised a chicken only to hatch a cockatrice. "Gwen-san... I asked you to negotiate a _ceasefire."_

The party was up just before dawn on the fourth day of their Kachin expedition. The local women made a rice noodle broth from the wild game Gwen's hounds had brought back to the village, eliciting much happiness in a rural Frontier where meat was a rare luxury. By now, the villagers had warmed up to the contestants, and so among the laughter of children poking at Gwen's dogs and horrified parents spanking said children, the team readied themselves for their duties. Considering Anita's condition, Richard volunteered to defend the village and look after their recovering teammate while Ying's internal medicine ran its course. The remaining trio was to make for Nanmati to meet with Yuki and Ichiro, joined by Gwen's mercenary macaques. When they had yesterday shared dinner to discuss strategy, both sides agreed that there was no way for Seoul to win, so a little pressure was sure to make them amiable to cooperation, with reparations in the form of cleaning up their mess. "Good luck, and give em hell." Richard gave Gwen a high-five while glancing at Mayuree. "Don't forget to keep an eye out." "Don't worry, Richard," Mayuree assured Richard naively, mistaking his concern. "If Gwen's in danger, I am in danger, and I'll let her know." "Thanks, Mia." Richard patted Gwen's canary on the head. "Look after her, eh?" "I will!" "Who's looking after who?" Gwen snorted. "Take care of Anita. Wait for my good news." With that, the trio lifted into the air, then blasted off with a boom toward Nanmati. Sung Lee meditated outside Nanmati's hall, his countenance grim and smouldering, the mana within his conduits simmering at a boiling point. Four days prior, heedless of expending their allocation of magical items, the team had made it to Kachin before any of their competitors. Their Diviner, Jae-joong, had mapped the topography of the four villages within the first day, laid out a prediction of their opponent's abilities, then charted a path forward for a close victory. The plan involved sabotaging Fudan and Kyoto's way forward, all the while maintaining their own. It was unscrupulous, he knew, but all was fair in a competition where their team's talents left them little choice but to refuse to play by the rules. Of their number, only Sung was capable of using Shape Stone and Transmute Earth en mass. The rest of their otherwise offence-focused arrangement lacked the utility. From the outset, Seoul's Mages were soldiers, elites from the Kaesŏng Front, not engineers nor rescue workers. Comparatively, Si-won, whose versatility included ice constructs, couldn't help with clearing landslides or expediating excavation. Jung-min, who insisted on coming along to get back at Fudan, was only useful for scouting and disruption. Jae-joong, the Earth-Element Diviner, had already proven his usefulness, but he couldn't use Transmutation Magic. And Yoon-Seok, their Abjurer, was a Salt user, an expert defender, famed in Kaesŏng, peerless against the Undead, but likewise, useless when it came to debris removal. As for the fillers from the lesser families, the two female members of their team occupied the positions of a utilitarian Enchanter focusing on buffs, and a Water Mage of middling affinity. Together with the girls, the remaining three had been left behind to organise the supply-train from Mandalay. In opposition, Kyoto's five-element mastery of Onmyōdō allowed elemental shifts to change their Kami to one suitable for excavation and rebuilding, while Fudan had two Mages capable of churning massive volumes of earth, and a Water Mage with a sapient Spirit. What displeased Sung more than anything was that Fudan had received prior knowledge from their native member that Kachin was going to be a disaster zone, and that their quest would involve very little killing. According to Advisor Kim, the fairness of the competition was unquestionable, but still, the fact that Fudan, a lower-tier institution, held such an advantage was an unforgivable coincidence. But Sung wasn't the type to believe in serendipity. Victory, as his father had said, was for man to grasp with his own hands, and that was why they had to employ every advantage. On the first night, when he and Jung-min arrived at Mogaung to destabilise the mountainside, an army of clay dolls had suddenly accosted them, hurling boulders the size of melons at the Mages with terrific strength. Even after decimating the conjured constructs with a Magma Nova they kept on coming, countless and relentless. Somehow, despite departing later and seemingly without haste, Kyoto's defence had time to spare. When Sung further unleashed a Magma Burst, followed by a Runic Strike, a giant the height of the Secretariat building in Yangon tore itself from the mountain and began to hurl small hills at him and Jung-min. When he haphazardly issued a Magma Strike against the cracking facade of the horn looming over the village, the giant braced itself, then caught the crashing debris. After that, Sung knew they had done all they could, and that it was time to go. While the giant lay buried in the rubble, half-wrecked and arms open to protect the northern slope of the village, he had Jung-min expedite a rapid retreat. He had expected better news from Si-Won, the second most competent member of his team and one he could trust with his life. Instead, his sibling returned, clad in blood. A deep gash ran down the side of his lumbar where his thrice-enchanted uniform, designed to withstand blows tier 5 and below, had been torn to shreds. When they sliced away the runically weaved silk and glamoured glyphs, they saw that a section had been corroded, extracting from Si-win a pound of flesh. Worse still, even after Si-won overdosed his alchemical limit, the injury refused meaningful reconstruction. Where the flesh did mend, it warped. Even after cutting away Si-won's necrotising tissue and using a Restoration Potion, he couldn't sit or stand. "His Astral Soul is damaged," Jae-joong returned grimly after an inspection with Detect Magic. "He used a D-D ring as well. That's going to cost us CCs. The only contestant capable of doing this to Si-won would be—" "The Void user," Sung spat. "I know." When he had thought about it; was it not evident that Gwen Song had goaded them into that absurd duel? Sure, Jung-min had wanted to teach Eunae a lesson about allying with their opposition, but the public tongue-lashing their team had received from Magister von Schlabrendorff, followed by their unexpected defeat, had benefitted Fudan far more than it diminished Seoul. When Sung reviewed the fight with Advisor Kim, it became self-evident that Fudan had not only won the moral battle but the magic one as well. "Eric Walken is trying to game our strategy," Advisor Kim had warned him. "If you move in groups of two or threes, your flexibility will be drastically reduced. Meanwhile, thanks to their Ace, Fudan can move the sorceress alone while her other team members defend or flank. I think it's best not to obsess over the girl, and instead focus on a strategy involving the natural environment." Avoid Combat? Sung huffed. Korea, possessing the best Combat Mages in all of Asia, running from a second-string university in Shanghai? The very notion was absurd! Their loss had been a miscalculation, a misstep. In terms of raw power, Sung did not believe himself the girl's inferior. Upon Gwen Song's neck was a laurel he was happy to behead to adorn his crown. When the girl lay broken, his victory should burn all the brighter. In anticipation, he had resolved all of Nanmati's immediate problems. The existing flood had been diverted and the roads cleared of debris. He had even paved the mountain path with smooth basalt and crushed granite conjured from the depth. The route to the mine was likewise reaching completion as well, reinforced by a hardened flow of magma disintegrating the overgrown vegetation, creating a temporary crust that should survive a few months at least, enough for the proctors to gauge the increase in productivity. Had the delay of their opponents succeeded, a stalwart defence was all that remained, something in which the Combat Mages of Seoul excelled. Whatever the media would say in the coming days, a victory was a victory. To draw on an old idiom his father oft-repeated: it does not matter how you go, so long as you go to Seoul. "Seonbae-nim!" A sudden clattering of feet disrupted his meditation. Jae-joong, Jung-min and Yoon-Seok burst into the hall. "You're not going to believe this." "What is it?" Sung opened his eyes. "Have the heavens collapsed?" "Just about." Jae-joong's complexion was pallid. "Gwen Song is here, and she brought an army!" "The local peasantry?" he asked. It made sense that the locals were up in arms. If so, it meant Si-won had succeeded. Hopefully, the collateral damage wouldn't overly diminish their CC gains. "Is she trying to use them as fodder?" "If only!" their Diviner spluttered, struggling to describe what he had earlier Scryed. "She's here with Kyoto U, and… an army of monkeys, they're demanding our cooperation." Sung exhaled. Diplomacy. No surprise, considering both Fudan and Kyoto's team leaders were women. They must feel so confident in their advantage to brazenly waltz into the enemy's zone like this, heedless of the defences Sung and his Abjurer had set. Now, all he had to do was smash the girl's well-meaning plans to smithereens. "Jung-min," Sung Lee, heir apparent to Yooksung Conglomerate, addressed his cousin, who suddenly flinched from the attention. "You began our troubles by harassing Uncle Jae's daughter, and so for the good of Uncle Lee, it may be best if you took responsibility." _Indeed,_ Sung told himself. _Whatever happens now, Gwen Song had only herself to blame._ "They know we're here." Yuki led the way, mounted on Dororo's head, with a dozen macaques hanging from the giant's arms, torso and legs, having the time of their lives. "So, I'll do the talking?" Gwen felt an exhilarating rush, her blood quickened by their victory over Jiantong. "Also, a reminder, I promised Jung-min for Mrs Matriarch." "Ook, ook!" the Matriarch gesticulated viciously, cackling in a human-like manner. "I fear that may be impossible, Sarugami-sama." Yuki bowed her head. "Please recall Buddha's mercy, even for one who lacks it himself." "Ook, Eek! Eee!" "Vengeance will only bring calamity," Yuki said. "Please reconsider. The family of Lee Jung-min is powerful, indeed, and your land lacks the means to defend against their retribution." "Eek?" "That would be for the best, Sarugami-san." "That's right," Gwen added a proverb of her own. "The rarer action is in virtue rather than in vengeance." "Well said, Gwen-san," Yuki translated for Gwen. "Ook!" The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Gwen knew she looked strange speaking to Ariel and Caliban via pantomime but listening to the Kyoto priestess having a full blown conversation with a monkey was mind boggling on a whole other level. "Gwen." Mayuree unexpectedly tugged on Gwen's sleeve. "I don't have a good feeling about this." "Oh?" Gwen glanced at Kyoto's Mages with apologetic eyes. "How bad?" "My head's buzzing," Mayuree confessed. "It wasn't so bad before, but I think I... we'll be in mortal danger." "Maybe you should remain here," Gwen assured the Diviner. Considering their overwhelming advantage and the fact that there was no way for Seoul to back out, she had full confidence in the Korean's ultimate capitulation. Still, considering Mayuree's "condition"... She glanced at Lulan, who appeared impatient to get on with it, then to Yuki and Ichiro, whose politeness bordered on wretchedness. That there was danger was undeniable, but going home on a hunch wasn't an option either. "It's fine. I want to come with you." Mayuree struck out her chest. "We're in this together!" Gwen nodded. With that, Dororo began to move. To Fudan's and Kyoto's surprise, they managed to ride the giant doll almost on top of the village before Sung Lee emerged from the Nanmati's central hut, flying toward them with two others in tow. It was a good sign, one that demonstrated humility. To Lee's right was Jung-min, the Air Evoker-Transmuter, looking paler than a ghost. To his left was their Abjurer, whose mana signature Gwen immediately identified as a Salt user. "Welcome, Song Hubae," the man said. "To what do we owe this pleasure?" "I see you're missing an Ice Mage." Gwen observed the trio. "Is Si-won still recovering from his escapade? Or has he teleported back to Seoul already?" "Si-Won's life hangs by a thread." Sung Lee met her gaze head-on. "But never mind my brother. I see you have brought the locals." "I have brought victims of your careless and wanton desire for violence!" Gwen's eye sparkled with haughty malevolence. "Least of all, the Matriarch of the mountain, whose mate was murdered by Jung-min over there for sport!" "OOK!" Sung turned to regard his cousin. "We killed some apes during the survey, while we were breaking for lunch," he answered quietly, in a world of his own. "They got too close. It was nothing." "There you have it." Sung returned his gaze upon the unsuspecting Void Sorceress, noting how frail her white neck appeared. "Is that all?" "Ha! You wish! I come to represent Fudan, Kyoto, the people of Kachin and the residents of the land," Gwen declared, taking the opportunity to make her case. "For your transgression, Seoul U must provide reparations, cease hostility, and henceforth cooperate with future operations. You may have lost the IIUC, but you need not lose your honour or your reputation. You can make this right, Lee Seonbae-nim! We can work together—" The Magma Mage listened to Gwen's speech with a look of intense concentration. "Gwen!" Mayuree was the first to notice. "He's channelling magic!" "HALT!" Ichiro barked beside Gwen, interrupting Gwen's oratory, sending a ripple of mana through to air to assault their opponent. "Stop him!" "Salt Ward!" Beside the Magma Mage, Yoon-Seok, Seoul's Abjurer, erected a barrier which shimmered as the effects of Ichiro's Kotodama rippled across a semi-visible screen. "Gwen-san, beware his Banish!" Ichiro hissed. "And stop the Magma Mage!" "Lulu!" Gwen commanded Lulan even as she moved to cast Ball Lightning, understanding that diplomacy had given way to brawn. "Panzerschreck!" Lulan let loose a slab of solid iron, rapidly spinning as it made for the Captain of Seoul U. "Lightning Sphere!" Combined with Gwen's explosive bursts of blue-white electricity, the space above the village erupted into a dazzling light fantastic. "Element Ward!" _CRUNK!_ From somewhere within the explosion, Lulan's shell spiralled away, deflected by a barrier. Faster than the naked eye could register, Lulan's solid-slug landed in the mud, skipped thrice, then slammed into a hut, collapsing the structure and sending a dozen inhabitants fleeing. When the slug re-emerged, it was crimson with gore. Gwen stared in horror as the building collapsed, momentarily speechless. "You—!" With a mental command, her Lightning-charged deer hounds broke from the tree line surrounding the village and made for the collapsed structure. "Gwen! Something's coming!" Mayuree detected a seismic swelling of elemental Magma, her danger-sense kicking into the red. "We have to get out of here!" "We'll keep the settlers safe, Gwen-san." Yuki's habitual demurity wrinkled with uncharacteristic anger. "Seoul appears to have forsaken all regard for their quest." "!" Gwen's Divination likewise pinged. Shit was about to hit the fan. "Monkey!" She screeched at the hooting Matriarch. "Get your kin back into the forest! Do it now!" "OOK!" With a mighty leap, the Matriarch disappeared quick as a whistle, leading her pack away from Dororo. "Dororo! Help the villagers!" Yuki urged her giant, who even now was shedding little models of itself onto the ground. "It's a little too late for that," Sung Lee's booming voice roared across the cloudy sky. "PLANAR ALLY - MOLTEN GUARDIAN!" Spurts of lava, accompanied by jets of lemon-tinged sulphur, burst into being below where Gwen and the others hovered some dozen meters in the air. Where Dororo stood, space distorted, tearing the fabric between the material and the immaterial. In the blink of an eye, a gate into the Para-Elemental Gate of Magma came into being, sending up a twenty-metre jet of yellow-green gas. "Dimen—" Suddenly, Gwen found that she couldn't breathe. When she inspired to cast Dimension Door, her throat caught on fire. Below, an orange vortex of flowing, flaming earth engulfed the immediate vicinity, crashing into Dororo's vine-strew legs, sending up a great sizzle of burning vegetation, made worse by the stench of rotten eggs. Yuki's complexion turned white as a sheet, suddenly gnashing her teeth as her eyes spun uncontrollably, struck by such unfathomable agony even as she choked for breath. "Oooooooo!" Dororo stomped its feet, ripping itself limb from limb, only to step once more into yet more lava, sending Yuki into a second, convulsive bout. A horrid, bone-chilling epiphany flashed across Gwen's inward eye. She realised she had seen the gaseous magic first-hand, though she had never subjected herself as a victim. Jung-min! She caught the Mage with her watering eyes. Her variation created floating motes of lightning. For an Air Mage, they could arguably flood the vicinity with a variety of noxious gasses. But Cloud Kill was forbidden for use against human personnel! She screamed internally. Did the bastard have a death wish? "Ooooo!" Dororo was now waist-high in lava and crumbling rapidly. Ichiro promptly activated a Shielding Pendant around his Captain; then with a blast of silvery Conjuration, he activated both their Translocation Amulets, no longer caring for the CC penalty. Simultaneously, Sung's conjured monster materialised. From a maw that now opened into what looked to be the nine layers of Dante's Inferno, a jagged, obsidian head emerged, exhaling mustard, kindled with scintillating brimstone. With yet another billow of unbearable heat, an arm freed itself, followed by a second, moving with a rapidity that was surprising for a thing of such mass. _FUCK!_ Gwen realised the error of having both Mayuree and Lulan with her. _Could Lulan take a hit from the lava giant?_ She thought desparingly. _Mia needs to teleport the fuck out, right now._ Overhead, the fiery salamander had fully formed. It was now taller than the decimated Dororo, with a body brutally barbed with obsidian shards in the manner of a sadistic plate mail. From its visor, a single flaming eye looked out with unfathomable rage, cruel with a wanton desire for ultraviolence. Without warning, it opened its mouth, dribbling magma so hot that Gwen was sure the white glow was pure plasma. Then without mercy, a volcanic torrent erupted. Gwen's eyes grew hazy, her throat constricted, and her lungs burned. Shamefully, her first thought was of her Ghosting Amulet and her Contingency Ring. Arguably, Mayuree was also in possession of both as well, but Lulan- JESUS! Lulu had neither! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Gwen wanted to bite off her tongue. If she had cared for her friends, she should have burned her crystals and brought damned Contingency Rings for Lulu! Her eyes swept over Mayuree, who had fallen to her knees, gasping and fumbling for air. Shit! Gwen realised yet another miscalculation. She had her draconic-constitution and resistance to poisons, but Mia was just a girl. She really should have left her back in the forest, even if she was paranoid over the Enchantment afflicting Mayuree's mind. _WHOOMP!_ A shimmering shield appeared around Gwen. Instead of teleporting herself away, Mayuree had activated her Ring of Protection but had set it onto her friend. _WHAT THE FUCK?_ Gwen silently cursed her Diviner. Until Mia's Ghosting Amulet activated, Mayuree was here to stay. _Did she have to suffer an attack?_ The instructions had stated that the amulet was triggered by invasive magic. "Eaaarrrgh!" Lulan unleashed a cracked and broken howl of frustration. To Gwen's dismay and despair, Lulu charged toward the flaming sword with one of her own, manifesting a massive slab of iron two-metres tall and as wide as her torso to meet the incoming cloud of smouldering, volcanic air. _GOD DAMN IT!_ Gwen cursed her myopia. In the heat of the moment, both of her companions were all heart and no brain. When all three of them possessed a selfless, masochistic capacity for martyrdom, all they could do was trip over one another's feet. If even one of them had said, "fuck this for a lark," and had Dimension Doored away, then the matter would have been infinitely less complicated. _ARIEL!_ She commanded her hidden Familiars, thanking God she had that much foresight at least. _CALIBAN!_ "EEEE!" Ariel slammed into Lulan, escaping with the Sword Mage. "SHAAA!" Caliban instantly expanded into its Spider form, ripping Mayuree from Dororo's back before leaping into the fire, where Gwen hoped she had enough vitality to carry Mayuree to safety. The lava burst descended. Her shield crinkled. Her world grew white-hot, but not before she lost her footing. Below, Dororo had turned to ash. As she fell, Gwen hoped to God that when Caliban drained her vitality, or when she began to sizzle like a takoyaki, her Ghosting Amulet would trigger its Dimension Door, allowing her to teleport away. With her Essence, hopefully, her scars would heal. If not, maybe Babulya had a thing that could help. _CRACK_! Unbidden, a cacophonic burst of thunder broke overhead. "There it is again!" In Hpakan, where a dozen Magisters and Maguses gathered around a lumen-caster, the Mages were puzzling over the scene even now unfolding in Nanmati. Where the conversation had earlier centred around Jung-min's illicit use of Cloud Kill, now they had bigger problems. "Perhaps it's drawn to the mana build-up?" Despite the titanic battle occurring below, their eyes were drawn to a blue-white silhouette flittering in and out of the range of von Schlabrendorff's eye of providence. "Think it's related to the Tyrant?" Lutz von Schlabrendorff shook his head. "Hass, get a team ready..." Heedless of the CC penalty, Ichiro took his Captain away from the crumbling Dororo, mindful of his betrayal. As versatile Yuki's synergy with her Kami could be, that very same connection made for a glaring weakness, which was that her consciousness conjoined with her construct, possessing the Miko's senses as a gateway into the material world. Once a safe distance away, Ichiro felt a pang of guilt as he looked back at their Fudan allies, still standing atop the burning Dororo, facing the full fury of the Molten Guardian, a famed Asura of the inferno world. That a member of the Lee family could still access an ancient deity of Korea's long lost Shamanistic faith wasn't something anyone could have predicted. Likewise, that Seoul would stoop so low as to use Cloud Kill, even in its non-lethal capacity, was unthinkable by any rational Mage. Was winning that important? Ichiro took in a lung full of fresh air, stunned at Seoul U's twisted conviction. "Ichiro..." Yuki moaned in his arms, her pale body flushed and welting from the sensory feedback, even now aflame with the sensation being burned alive, yet lacking the sweet surrender of unconsciousness. "Annul Pain!" Ichiro invoked his magic, exhaling as Yuki's spasm thankfully ceased, dispelling Dororo. "Help them-" "I know, Yuki-sama, but..." Ichiro looked up, wondering just what a Mind Mage could do at a time like this. Above the Void sorceress, he saw the monster's assault descend without mercy. _Run, you baka!_ Ichiro's throat constricted. But Fudan did not flee. Instead, what occurred betrayed all logic and expectation. Without warning, Gwen's celestial Kami tackled the Sword Mage, sending her flying away, while her Asura Kami snatched Fudan's Diviner and leapt from Dororo's head. Then, she fell into the now dispelled Dororo. Then, the clouds broke overhead. Then came a wyvern. Gwen Song had a third Familiar?! Ichiro baulked. But no, that was impossible. It was an enormous brute; the largest Ichiro had ever seen, descending from the heavens with a velocity that tore the air asunder. Banking into a graceful arc, it made an effortless swoop past Seoul U's battle line, first snatching a surprised Sung Lee up in its jaws, then swatting their Air user so hard with its spiked, van-sized tail that the Mage descended like a meteor. In a matter of seconds, less than the time it took for him let loose a bewildered "NANI?" the Seoul team was reduced to a stunned Abjurer hovering alone over a flaming hillside, smothered with still tumbling lava. "Uwa-!" Ichiro couldn't help but expel the uncouth utterance from his lips. In a moment, a feeling of uncontrollable sublimity erupted from his throat. "UWAAA?!" The magma giant stumbled as the conduit of mana sustaining its presence in the Material world was cut off. Sung Lee was either dead or had been teleported away. Gwen Song fell among the flaming debris, engendering a burst of brilliant Conjuration, then re-appeared a hundred meters away before she could sink into the fire, protected by two Illusory simulcrums. _She was safe!_ But still, her unscathed escape filled Ichiro's mind with wild and wagging exaltations of incomprehensible awe. His Master once said that some were born blessed by the _Ōkami._ But how could one know that they were blessed by the _Shinkai_ and watched over by the Sun Goddess; that they existed to walk the _Kannagara no Michi?_ Did, for example, having a wild fucking Wyvern descend from the heaven to eat your enemies then fly the fuck away count?! An ejaculation of emotions erupted from the Yamabushi's heart, constricting his chest. It wasn't every day that a humbled monk bore witness to the will of the world. Jung-min considered himself lucky that as a Mage attuned to Air, his superior reflexes was enough to mitigate a portion of the wyvern's kinetic blow even as it sundered his unsuspecting body. His shield had shattered near-instantly, but the split-second was enough for him to shift his momentum. When he came to once more, he was on the forest floor. It would seem that lady luck had not abandoned him even in his direst hour, for he had crashed through the soft canopy, then landed in the rotten, mud-strewn undergrowth. "Argh..." Something had broken for sure, for Jung-min couldn't move his limbs, although his physical infirmity was nothing when compared to what awaited him. As the number one son, Sung Lee was without fault in all matters. As such, the responsibility for Seoul U's catastrophe of an IIUC would fall to Jung-min. For not only had the bastardly Jung-min invited trouble by harassing Eunae, their little cousin on Fudan's team, he had also used illicit magic on fellow contestants, disqualifying the potentially victorious Sung Lee, the team's saviour. It was a good narrative; he had to admit. Sung Lee was a good fit for the next family head. "Hahaha!" Jung-min then recalled that the wyvern had snatched up Sung Lee like a dog treat. "That's too funny." "Ook?" A hairy face appeared overhead, an inch away from his face. "Ook?" Another joined the first. "Ook?" A third. Jung-min's laughter choked in this throat, and not because laughing drew agony from his torso. Turning his head, he gazed toward his dominant hand where his Contingency Ring would be. Sitting on said hand and weighing down said limb, was an enormous macaque with a bulbous red ass, bearing her fangs. "Ook!" "Ook!" "Ook!" "Ook, Ook!" "Ook!" "OOK!" "OOK!" "OOK!" "OOK!"

Golos nullified the Quicksilver Fuda he had stolen from Ryxi once he was a safe distance away from the commotion, feeling a heady rush course through his demi-divine body. Snatching the "Calamity" from certain doom without endangering his own life had been something he’d mulled about nightly, and now he had done it. Wyverns weren't made for dancing, but Golos reflexively performed an aerial barrel-roll. The only thing to dampen his spirit was that the meal he had earlier acquired disappeared in a burst of silver. It was the Human's Contingency Ring, he knew: all the big-wig humans had one, but a drake could only hope. As for what came next, he should be free in no time at all! Unlike the bookworm Ryxi, Ruxin always made good on his promises! “Never in my life,” Lutz von Schlabrendorff remarked to the proctors stationed in the village hall of Hpakan. “Have I ever seen someone disqualified via impromptu Wyvern.” “Perhaps he's an agent of karma,” a second proctor noted. “Sometimes, the actions one takes are an affront to both heaven and earth.” There was a brief flash of Conjuration. “Talk about bad luck.” A third proctor observed the contingency trigger. “Who would believe us if we were to spin a tale? Thunder Wyverns don’t gro- Why's it doing a barrel roll? Is it circling back?” "No, it's gone." A fourth fiddled with the rangefinder. “Maybe the girl knows the wyvern?” A fifth raised a finger. “You mean, like old chums?” the third snorted. “If she could command a tier-ten draconic-class Magical Beast to initiate a surgical strike, why would she need to participate in something as pedestrian as the IIUC?" the fourth snorted. "Why not just apply herself to the Tower as the first acolyte in the history of Spellcraft to tame an adult Thunder Wyvern? I’ll put in a good word with Berlin. We’ll take her, no questions asked.” The rest of the Magisters sipped their tea while von Schlabrendorff mulled over the aftermath. “Regardless, Fudan and Kyoto remain,” he said at last. “Inform Magister Kim to collect his students. Explain to him for now, Seoul U forfeits, casus fortuitus. If Seoul plays it smart, we shall leave it at that. They act up, that's at their own peril. As for Jung-min, the committee demands an example is made. Remind Kim to tell his employers that participation in the IIUC, as it is with the Mageocracy, is a privilege, not a right.” “Shouldn’t it be 'casus Draco?'" Another Magus burst into appreciative laughter. “Let’s hope it's minus dracones from here on.” Von Schlabrendorff’s brow twitched. “I don’t envy anyone having to explain another incident to Brussels.” “Ha, what are the chances of it happening again?” The Chief Proctor grunted. “Where's our team?” “They should be arriving, sir...” Hass marked the map. “...right about now.” "Good. Once Kim is gone, bring Magister Walken..." Perhaps the most disturbing thought to come out of the whole ordeal, once Gwen forced herself to re-orientate her bearings, was Walken's displeasure. It was a sentiment as off-putting as it was disturbing, but she couldn't shake the fact that for her "own good", Eric had expressly forbidden acts of impulsive martyrdom. It was just as well that there was a lot on her plate: Golos, Ayxin, the Yinglong, what she had told Uncle Jun, Mayuree's mind-fog, and the IIUC, but for now, there was a more pressing concern. Nanmati was on fire. When the great lava-thing lost its mana-link, it exploded in every which direction, erupting like a volcano, spraying ash and burning brimstone over the wooden village. Meanwhile, her two simulacrums, each a modified Mirror Image, independently pantomimed, drawing the attention of precisely no one. "I am over here! You'll never catch me!" one said. "Over here, you big lug!" The other one winked. Suddenly, without warning, they ran in opposite directions. Before she could respond, her companions arrived. “Gwen!” Mayuree’s voice came across their channel before Caliban’s half-baked form could be seen running across the hardening lava. Comically, Caliban had Mayuree strapped to its back like a spider with a bundle of eggs, so that when it ran, she added to the Void-beast's aberrant visage. “How could you! Why didn’t you save yourself!” “I am fin- Oh God! Puahaha!” When Mayuree came closer, Gwen saw that her friend had received a perm from the flash-fire, spontaneously engendering a horrible afro. “You could have died!” Mayuree burst into tears. “It’s not funny!” “GWEN! HOW COULD YOU!” Lulan Blinked into Gwen's vicinity, then gripped Gwen's collar with both hands balled and white-knuckled. “Alright, alright.” Gwen pulled out her Amulet, noting that the Core had been spent. “Grill me later, Lulu, the bloody village is on fire.” “What about him?” Lulan pointed to the floating Abjurer. “Oi!” Gwen hollered at Yoon-Seok with a blare from Clarion Call. “Is your team forfeiting?” It took the Abjurer a few seconds to reignite his cognitive functions. “I need to find my brother!” he called back, drifting back and forth. “I request a ceasefire! Has anyone seen Sung? Or Jung-min?” “Good enough.” Gwen turned back to the burning village. What she should be feeling was spine-tingling horror. Instead, she felt a light-headed chirpiness which she could only attribute to the thrill of surviving a near-death encounter. “Where’s Yuki and Ichi?” “They left us!” Lulan hissed like a trodden cat. “Don’t be an idiot.” Gwen patted down her friend's frizzled hair. “They did what they’re supposed to do and expected to do. You, me, and afro-Mia are the idiots. For the future, we need to work out a who-saves-who contingency plan.” "A-Afro-Mia?" WHOMP! A Teleportation Circle manifested mid-air. A party of proctors stepped through the Astral tear. “Spread out and control the damage,” the leading Mage declared as he stepped through, speaking to his peers before turning to Gwen. “Contestant Jung-min and Sung Lee have been sent back to the CCP Tower at Dali. Additionally, in violation of article seven, section four, involving the malicious employment of sanctioned spells against Magical personnel, I declare that Seoul University’s IIUC credentials are suspended pending further review. Remaining members of Seoul University shall leave the competition area and return to Hpakan to report to Chief Proctor von Schlabrendorff.” Above, as though suddenly recalling something of dire importance, Seoul's Abjurer made for the central hut. "Fudan, Kyoto, you may return to your respective duties." Gwen exhaled a breath of relief. Now, with Seoul U's rightful expulsion, only two teams remained. Insofar as she was concerned, Fudan had won. “That leaves just Kyoto and us.” Lulan channelled her inner Richard before making a chopping motion with her hand. “Yuki and Ichiro are here. If they’re wounded, maybe we could…” “Whoa, cool your jets.” Gwen reflexively checked for lumen-recorders before reminding herself that the Chief Proctor needed no such thing to craft compelling reality television. “Trust me. We'll do this fair and square. Whatever Kyoto thinks they’ve got, I’ve got better.” Lulan nodded, caught between faith and instinct. All around them, the Magisters from the IIUC committee moved about the village, quenching fires with magical items or spells and attending to the villagers who were burned or injured. At first, when a number of corpses were unearthed, Gwen bristled with injustice. But then the rescuers lifted Lulan’s hut, the hypocrisy of the carnage alone was enough to engender a minute of inconsolable oppression from the Fudan party. “Mia, go with Lulu and offer them some compensation.” Gwen wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, or if it helped, but she couldn't just shrug and leave. Her companions nodded, then went about their solemn duty. “Gwen-san! Ariel-Sama!” Behind her, both Yuki and Ichiro appeared. The two had returned earlier, though they had chosen to first help with the damage to the village. “Hey. You’re safe.” Gwen exhaled. “Sorry for what happened.” After doubly taxing herself, Yuki appeared paler than a snow-spirit. “Allow me to apologise for our retreat, Gwen-san. You stood to face that Molten Guardian while we showed our cowardice.” “No worries,” Gwen dismissed their apology. “No need for drama. You did what’s right.” “We are very shameful.” Ichiro bowed from the waist. “Entirely forgiven.” Gwen felt that the Japanese habit of excessive piety was in itself a form of annoying passive-aggressiveness: like they were trying to guilt trip her anger. “I am not even upset.” “We can pay for your item to be replaced,” Yuki suddenly announced. “Please, it’s the least we can do.” “Alright, deal.” Gwen nodded quickly, her dour mood leaving scant room for kindness. “I’ll bill you the invoice.” “This makes us feel less burdened, thank you.” Ichiro bowed again in return. “Was that a wyvern?” “Who knows?” Gwen averted their imploring eyes. Instead, she looked toward the heavens. “What a magnificent occurrence that it came to our aid. How fortuitous, eh?” If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The Japanese duo agreed. “Well,” she smiled back. “I guess our alliance is at an end. Ichi, Yuki, may the best team win from here.” The trio exchanged measured looks, followed by weighty handshakes. "Indeed, Gwen-san.” Yuki's cheeks glowed with anticipation. “We shall put in the greatest effort.” “Gwen, they came home with us,” Mayuree remarked to the scene below. When the trio returned to La War, they were followed by a stream of monkeys swinging from tree to tree, forming a great expedition. After alighting at the village’s bramble barrier, the triumphant trio, together with the village's defence, were met by the Matriarch of the macaque, who had come to see Gwen. “You brought back the troop." Richard emerged, together with Lea. “They’re friendly, I hope.” “Friendly enough.” Gwen approached the Matriarch, flanked by Ariel and Caliban. “Matriarch?” “Ook! Ook! Eek! EEEK!” “EE! Ee? Eee!” “She says she wants to thank you for delivering their enemy.” Lea appeared beside the Kirin, translating Kirin for Gwen even as Ariel passed on the Matriarch’s thoughts. “She wants to know if there’s anything else you want. A service of some sort.” “We did?” Gwen glanced at Mayuree, who looked to Lulan, who shrugged. “How?" “Ook! Ook, Eek!” "You er... gave her a Mage? They did things- terrible, unspeakable things." "What kind?" Gwen made a face. "Unspeakable." Lea looked at Richard, then at Gwen. "As I am not familiar with the anatomy of humans or monkeys." The party allowed that to sink in. "So," Gwen changed the topic. "What can we do for them?" “She wants to know what she can do for you,” Lea translated. "A monkey always pays her debts." An idea came to Gwen's head. Behind Richard, just beyond the bramble wall, she could see Shwe the alderman and the rest of the villagers holding staves and sticks, ready to defend their village against the Wildland macaques. Though Gwen knew the beasts preferred Wildland flora, magical creatures were infamously omnivorous. “Lea.” Gwen’s expression took on a feeling of keen industry. “Ask if Mrs Boss is averse to lasting peace in the region. We’ll supply them with food, and I’ll be happy to offer another two bottles of Maotai. All they have to do is observe our workers, then you know; monkey sees, monkey do.” From a grey, drizzling sky, the wet continued, bringing with it its usual assortment of problems. Though stung by the kinks in Fudan's teamwork and communication, Gwen resolved to leave them for the aftermath of the competition. Now, with external threats removed, her real work would begin, requiring every measure of her time and concentration. First, she sent out Anita and Lulan with a team of villagers to repair the roads and bolster the stability of their transport infrastructure. Then, she experimented with the monkeys. Though her macaque mercenaries were ill-suited for disciplined labour, they made for excellent patrollers. Roving as a hooting pack, the monkeys chased away Earthen Gobs, Snots and other Wildland fauna as they roved from camp to camp, having a great lark. Gwen and Mayuree meanwhile, worked to put her plan into action. Drifting south and swinging by Kamaing, she first attempted to convince Jiantong's village to find gainful employment through herself. "We'll treat everyone the same, equal pay, equal benefits," Gwen appealed to the alderman. First, she would offer diplomacy. If that didn't work, she could be convincing in other ways. "It's an extra hour's trek, I know, but our Mages will open a new path through the macaque's territory. You'll be safe if you go through that." "How can we trust you?" The Alderman understandably had his reservations, considering that the Chinese Mages that had come to help them had evaporated. According to his story, some liberties had been taken by Jiantong's Vice Captain with the local women as well. While consensual, the understanding had been one of quid pro quo; the problem was that having given many a tit, the chief's family had received no tat. It was at this juncture that Gwen noticed the alderman, a middle-aged man, was eyeballing her tightly wound figure. "Gwen." Mayuree, who had been quiet this whole while, interrupted their conversation before Gwen switched plans. "Didn't the alderman from the first village give you something of a token?" "Oh?" Gwen recalled that indeed, she did have proof of her trustworthiness. With a flick of her wrist, she performed a quick sleight of hand, then produced a piece of jade. "I was given this by the alderman of a lowland village. He said to show it if we were to run into problems." Kamaing's leader blinked. "You saved Takaung? We have one of our own in the monastery." "With this, can you trust us?" she proposed with an edge to her voice. "I need to verify this with the abbot." The sweating alderman quickly left. Meanwhile, after praising Mayuree, Gwen inspected the relatively prosperous township from the second floor of the hall. As she had observed on her last visit, Kamaing was the most populated of the four municipalities and would have afforded Jiantong a significant advantage. After twenty minutes, the alderman returned with a dozen others. "We will work." The man returned the mutton-jade solemnly, averting his eyes. "Please make it safe for us to travel." "Wonderful!" the girls cooed. "I'll let the Boss know at once!" "The... Boss?" "Ah, yes." Gwen figured now was as good a time as any. "I'll introduce her. If you can keep your working relationship up, I dare say much of Kamaing's troubles will soon be over!" After the successful recruitment of at three hundred able bodies, Gwen moved to execute the most pivotal part of her plan. With Mayuree cradled protectively in her barrier, she proceeded toward the jade mine to meet with Manager Mingyi Mok. From the sky, the mine itself was typical; an open pit punctured into the Arakan basin were seams of jade ran rich through the metamorphic rock, compressed by aeons of seismic pressure into vivid veins of serpentine, quartz, nephrite and jadeite. It were small operations such as these that produced Khotan and Feicui, the basis of the House of M's northern expeditions. Originally, each of the villages had staked different sections of the dig, but Gwen saw no reason why many hands couldn't make light work. As with third-world mines everywhere, the conditions were upsetting to anyone possessed of a social conscience, involving the sort of operational work and health that existed only in nightmares. From the stench of the place as soon she and Mayuree flew into the pit, she guessed that the dozen or so dredged pools of fetid water, tens of meters across and swarming with insects, were not only neglected but had been collating everything from human waste to local fauna to monsoonal run-off. The roads moving into and out of the mine were likewise strewn with mud, with deep trenches carved from the wagons that came and went, immeasurably complicating future operations. As for the jade mine itself, it seemed that magical means had been used to collapse entire walls into a canyon from which miners would then pick out by hand the shards and blocks of nephrite and jadeite. From the depth, workers then transported stones up a human chain to carriers, who then slogged their way from the interior of the mine up to a station, where the rocks were inspected, weighed and recorded until finally, they were transported down the main arterial highway down to Mandalay's regional headquarters. On the northern cliff of the mine, overlooking the operation, was a series of huts made from galvanised iron and fibrous-concrete sheeting. Within the abode, cloistered in relative comfort, the girls found the Manager, a bulbous man thrice the circumference of a local, attended by two young women. "Nagas below!" Manager Mingyi visibly quaked when the two girls descended from the grey heavens without warning, spilling a bowl of piping hot pho in his haste to kowtow. After Gwen and Mayuree introduced themselves, he obediently gathered the dozen sub-managers and supervisors under his control, most of which were Southern Burmese loyalists to the House of M. A few, Gwen noticed, were Han Chinese. “These are our jade inspectors.” Mingyi mopped the sweat from his quivering jowls. As the first obese individual Gwen had seen in Kachin, Mingyi grew fat not in the manner of portly western men but the rotund jackfruit. “I’d like to see the accounts.” “The… accounts?” The man's eyes widened, his belly quaking like a flan. "You don't want to see the jadeite?" “No. I want historical statements.” Gwen turned her striking irises upon the line of pallid men stinking of sweat. “I will need to see paper records of how much jade is being produced historically over the last twenty-four months, as well as the mine's outgoings.” “Ah…” Mingyi stammered. “Of course.” The man wobbled across the office, its floorboards straining to hold his weight. “Right here, ma’am.” “Manager Mingyi.” Mayuree added her scowl to Gwen's. “Are you forgetting who I am? I am a representative of the House itself. I have operational authority from here to Mandalay.” Aww, Gwen gushed. Business Mayuree was adorable. “I am not sure what you mean, Miss Mayuree.” The Manager pulled out stack after stack of half-rotten paper dank from the monsoonal air. It would appear the cupboard was not moisture sealed. “It’s all here… it’s…” “MISTER MINGYI!” Gwen snapped her fingers. A stack of arm-thick reports fell onto the mahogany table in the centre of the man’s disgusting food-strewn desk. “These are district reports from Magus Maymaruya going back the last five years. I acquired them while in Yangon. Do I have a reason to be worried?” In truth, her "reports" were the accounts for the Centurion Project, but the manager couldn't know that. “Of course not.” To her astonishment, Mingyi attempted to straighten his spine. “But as you can see, with weather like ours, the records don’t keep too well. Still, I wish you the best of luck in matching them. Mister Wong, our accountant, will do his utmost to help.” Lifting herself on her toes, Gwen walked toward the table, then sat with her legs crossed over to one side. Despite the unkind contour and practical nature of her skin-suit, the sight of a first-class woman from a first-world city titillated the line of men Mingyi had gathered for her pleasure. Mayuree stood to her right, whispering of what her Scry had found in the mine, in between the walls of the building, and in hidden basements. “Caliban!” Gwen’s netherworld serpent slithered into being. As one, the Manager and his men fell to their knees. The weaker of the bunch retched while the others whimpered. “I am going to ask one more time.” Gwen crossed her legs. “Mr Wong. Step up.” The man crawled forward. “Have you ever stolen from the mine?” “I-” “SHAAA!” Caliban opened its carapace. “Oo! Buddha have mercy!” “One chance,” Gwen helpfully noted while Caliban crawled into her lap, drooling grey goo. “Now answer.” “I have sinned!” The accountant quivered. “My men pilfered from pit 17 and 21 last year, and 14 the year before!” “Lies. Grotesque and ugly lies. But even a little honesty is better than none. Maybe you’ll have a limb left when this is over. Go stand to the right.” “No! I also stole from pit 2! And I took bribes from Mr Mok and Mr Gu!” “Shut up!” “Wong, how dare you!” “Miss Song, he's delirious!” Gwen leapt from the table. “CONFESS!” she let loose a bark, smothering the men with Dragon-fear. “Your wives and your children are waiting for you. Your nice homes in Yangon, in Mandalay, your maids and servants, all waiting for the return of their master. But I am not here to play around, gentlemen. I am here on a mission. I am here from the House of M! I know you have stolen, I know how much you have stolen. The worm is Caliban, a Void Beast born from the righteous hunger of an Old One: when Caliban eats you from the inside out, there will no return to the eight-fold path. You won’t even wander the endless plains of Limbo. What awaits you will be oblivion. OBLIVION! YOU-you son of a hog, what’s your name?” “Leo, Miss.” “Money or mercy?” “M-mercy!” “Then go and stand to the right. You and I are going to go over the books, and if I don’t find the answers I am looking for..." "ARIEL!" Ka-BOOM! A roll of thunder fulminated across the mine’s exterior. "EEEEE!" Ariel passed by the window, glorious and awe-inspiring. “...then our company will be trimming the fat.” “D-Deva!” “Mighty Buddha!” “So.” Gwen walked a circle around the men, each cowed under her electric gaze, watching as Manager Mingyi’s face turned a shade of green. “To reiterate. I am here on a mission of mercy. If you chose oblivion, that’s your choice. If the little wealth you have collated is worth more than reincarnation, then so be it.” She patted Caliban, who opened its carapace to unleash arm-thick tentacles of red and blue. “The last man to confess gets eaten by Caliban.” “And that’s how production will increase by fifty per cent, is it?” Richard, Anita and Lulan joined Gwen and Mayuree at the mine by the evening, having reached the entrance with La War's labourers. For the foreseeable future, the party was to be stationed in the managerial office to implement Gwen’s desired changes. “Simple, isn’t it?” Gwen threw down the stack of rotten accounts. “When a NoM’s greed is enough to endure my Dragon-fear, you know they’re hiding a lot more than they let on. I am having them cough up what they ate as well, with any luck, anything between six-months to a year's supply may soon be 'uncovered'.” “Money makes the world go round.” Richard sipped his beer, confiscated from the Manager's private larder. “Why am I not surprised.” “Hopefully, once we implement hygiene protocols, safety measures, basic protective equipment and you guys complete the railway I asked for, efficiency will increase ten-fold. For now, I’ve allocated for a quarter of the funds we've recovered to pay for additional workers from Kamaing. With the monkeys acting as escort, the roads should be safe." “How are you doing all this?” Anita sipped her porridge. Thanks to Ying’s quasi-magical pill, she was feeling much better and had been well enough to contribute to the excavations. “Are you an Economics Major? Are you studying to take on a Manufactorium?” “Nothing of the sort.” Gwen awkwardly chuckled. “I read a lot in my spare time.” “You know six Schools of Magic, and you have time left to read about governing NoMs?” “Gwen’s going to be a Tower Master someday,” Lulan pointed out. “She needs to know all this.” “Well, then Master Song,” Anita drily observed, smacking her lips. “I am glad to be on your team.” “Thanks, Ann,” Gwen smirked somewhat stiffly. “I hope it’s enough to beat Kyoto.” “I am sure it is,” Richard piped in with a voice full of confidence. “Walken said the quest is about improving the region’s production, stability, the lives of the people, and the amount of resource transported back to Yangon. I somehow doubt Kyoto’s priests and priestesses know accounting and work-health-safety! Ha! I doubt they’ve laboured with NoMs in their whole lives. Wondrous their craft may be, the laziness of labourers and the greed of administrators are beyond magic." “Nicely put, Dick!” Gwen raised a stubby. Bottles clinked. Their victory was at hand. From here on, Fudan had just under a week to set things in order; then, they would push back toward Yangon, hopefully meeting Bai and his team halfway, signalling the culmination and conclusion of their first mission in the International Inter-University Competition.

Within Bogyoke Park, Yangon, sat Kandawgyi Lake, the largest man-made lagoon in the city. The opalescent body of water was first commissioned by King Thibaw, criticised by the British for his love of material excess and ceaseless warmongering, though during the occupation, it became a favourite hangout for expats. Upon the lake, tethered to its centre by centrifugal currents of pure mana, gently rotating where the city's ley-lines met, was an enormous pleasure barge, the largest of its kind ever built. Named the Karaweik Palace, the ship was clad in foiled gold and studded with gems and jewels, with its interior floor plated with an interlocking herringbone pattern of nephrite and jadeite. On either side, two enormous statues of life-like Nagas, each twenty metres tall and two hundred long, formed the perimeter of the ship from the shore. From atop heads the width of two men, egg-sized ruby eyes watched over the tranquil lake, guarding its precious cargo: Matriarch Nanmadaw Me Nu, protector of Myăma and its Frontier provinces. While the IIUC raged in Kachin, the Matriarch hid as she had always done for the last half-century, cocooned in luxury, lying on a divan of enormous length and girth, enfolded in silk, satin and chiffon, wary of the outside world, usually asleep to preserve her remaining life. Within the high vaulted walls of the floating palace, three kept company; though only two engaged in conversation. The first was Me Nu, radiant on her divan, the second was Maymyint, prostrated on all fours, and the third was Marong, quiet as a whisper of smoke, blended into the ever-burning incense, no more obtrusive than the gentle scent of sandalwood. Marong had never expected that he would venture this far. The throne room usually fielded two Manipuri Shadowmen, his seniors by decades, standing in the antechamber, followed by four elite guards within the sanctum itself. Strangely, only an hour ago, an order had come from the Grandmaster to transfer every single member of the House of M's precious guards northward for a final confrontation with the Tyrant. Marong was himself a member of the House of M's elite force, but as a scion, he also existed outside of the cult's organisation. When the irrational command came, he felt the sea change in his smoke, swirling with hidden eddies clouded by conspiracy. There was another reason for Marong's suspicion. Usually, he opted to remain as far from their Mind Mage sister as possible. Maymyint was the eldest and the favourite of the Matriarch. Even when Marong was a child, Maymyint had remained exactly as she was now, aloof, beautiful, and cold-blooded. Thanks to her inherited Radiant Element; she commanded unquestionable loyalty from the House of M's caretakers, especially its troop of secretively trained mercenaries in the mountains of Manipur, including its Grandmaster, a powerful Vairagi and Marong's teacher. After Me Nu had cheated Mayuree of her promised protection, he had found himself increasingly drawn to his eldest. And it was from the many incidences when Marong lurked to see what treacherous plots Maymyint trafficked, that he caught a whiff of the Tyrant. At first, it was faint, but as he followed Maymyint day after day, the musky scent clung to his nostrils like pork grease. Was Maymyint in contact with the Tyrant then? Marong knew he had to find proof, though since Mayuree went away, he had found no evidence of collusion. But then an order had come from the Grandmaster, and much to Marong's shock, the Shadowmen not only obeyed: they had left Me Nu unprotected. He was incredulous, for the contract between the Vairagi and Me Nu was etched out in dragon-tongue, in the writing of the Naga, and only Me Nu could revoke it. Not in all twenty-four years of Marong's life had he ever witnessed Me Nu not being protected by at least four of the Vairagi's elites, the only force she trusted, which was why he had slipped into the theatre to bear witness to the rare sight of a furious Matriarch. "FOOL!" Thwack! An invisible lash snapped across Maymyint's body, sinking her into the floor. Me Nu's wrath was terrible indeed, so much that Maymyint's pain, which should have delighted Marong, stirred even his smoky form. In Marong's eyes, Maymyint existed as a favourite of the Matriarch, unassailable in her superiority. Never had he seen her berated, much less whipped and beaten. Sometimes, he had thought the pair mind-linked, for they often finished each other's sentences. "You dared to move my Shadowmen without my consent!" Me Nu snarled, baring pointed canines of flawless ivory. "The decision is to the benefit of the House of M." Maymyint passively touched her head to the floor. "Matriarch, please understand." "Benefit? By leaving me unprotected?" Me Nu spat, her ageless face growing grotesque with wrinkles. "Call our Mages back!" "We need them in Nagaland if we are to retake our home!" Maymyint protested. "Mother, you have to listen!" "Silence! Do you think I don't know you meddled with the tithing? Why is Mayuree with the foreigners? Why are the transports going out now?" Thwack! Another blow, harder this time, was enough to send Maymyint skittering across the polished jadeite floor, leaving a vivid streak of red. From the tiles, Marong could see that Maymyint was bleeding from her mouth. She defiantly raised her head. "YOU DARE?!" The Matriarch rose from her divan, revealing her scale-covered lower body. "You, who art the flesh of my flesh, how dare you utter such imprudence? Maymyint, you forget your duty." "Imprudence?" Maymyint spat blood. "You, who stole life from my siblings, who fed your scions to the Tyrant, speak of duty?" Like an agitated cobra, Maymyint suddenly stood. "You're past your prime, old bitch." For a second, Marong thought the flow of time had ceased. "You have grown cheeky." Me Nu regained her composure. "Tyrtrol!" Maymyint prostrated by throwing herself on the floor with a violent snap. Marong likewise felt the blood in his veins urging him to obey, though when it came to off-shoots like him and Mayuree, their genetic heirloom had thinned enough to gift them freedom. "Confn trelkilt," Me Nu continued in the old draconic tongue, her expression demonstrating full confidence in her command over her children. "It seems the liberty I have gifted you has gone to your head, Maymyint. You believe yourself beyond your role as tithing for our little Tyrant up north. But some lessons, I see, mustn't be remiss. You, my child, are just as expendable as your brothers and sisters. You, arrogant whelp, are no more important than Mayuree, who you so eagerly volunteered." At the sound of Me Nu's words, Marong tensed, relying on years of training to quieten his disquieted heart. Maymyint volunteered Mayuree? His complexion would have blanched but for his dissipated body. Then it wasn't the Matriarch? Maymyint forced herself onto her knees. "But why have you sent all our forces northward, leaving the city unprotected? Are you perhaps planning a coup?" Me Nu continued, growing more upset by the minute, feeling naked without her guards. "I sense something on you, dear child. What could it be?" By the time Marong had calmed himself, the Matriarch had left her throne and was encircling Maymyint. As usual, their so-called mother's deathless face was something that made one's spine squirm. Said to be the descendant of a great Naga, Me Nu was the last remnant of the Royal Family deposed by the British, a surviving daughter of the Mon and the Pyu. The way she moved reminded him of a serpent, made more so vivid by the jewel-encrusted scales just below her neck, cupping her shrivelled breasts. "Vataka!" Maymyint knelt. "Open your mouth." Maymyint obeyed. "Wider!" Marong's sister stretched her blooded-lips so far that her jaws appeared unhinged. The Matriarch reached out with fingers crusty with dull serpent scales, then drew out Maymyint's tongue. Quickly, like a dash, Me Nu's tongue flickered. "Ho?" Me Nu dug a nail into Maymyint's pink appendage, daring the woman to bite. "What is this? Someone else has marked you in my stead. I can smell it on your breath and in your blood." Marong meanwhile, was considering the possibility of getting the Matriarch to rescind her order for Mayuree. If he should approach their "Mother" with suspicions of Maymyint' treachery against Mayuree's contribution, could he bring his sister back? "You always had a glib tongue." Me Nu relented her grasp, then patted Maymyint on the cheeks, wiping the frothy blood on her daughter's cheeks. "Tell me, child, how is it that you have met with the Tyrant without my knowledge? What is your purpose? Use the Void Sorceress to make the IIUC Mages join your fight? You know the proctors do not interfere, no matter the sacrifice made by the students. Are you truly hoping a group of children would defeat our enemy of three decades? Your plan appears to be full of holes, my dear. Tell Mother what it is that you have truly envisioned. I know you're smarter than that." "I planned for your departure from this world," Maymyint spoke, her voice different somehow. "Are you so discontent with rotting away in your palace, Me Nu? You haven't left here, nor seen the sun for how long? What's the joy in life, when you live in a gilded cage?" That last metaphor, Marong mulled. Was that for Me Nu, or was it for Maymyint herself? In a way, wasn't it the same for all their siblings? Cocks and hens locked in gilded cages, fattened up to be of use to the House of Mü, a house of nothing? "Ssejinw!" Me Nu commanded, fuming at her daughter's insolence. "No, I will not." To Marong's shock and surprise, Maymyint not only disobeyed their Matriarch's Draconic speech but rose to both feet. Instead, she opened her mouth, split her tongue in twain in the manner of a serpent's and delivered a power word of her own. "Vataka!" Unbidden, surprised and caught utterly unprepared, Me Nu found herself hitting the floor on all fours, just as Maymyint had done so before. "How does it feel?" Maymyint's trilling voice quivered with excitement. "Old whore! Now the shoe is on the other foot! HA!" "YOU!" Me Nu's eyes rolled in all directions. "How?" Marong knew that Me Nu's dragon-speech held her children in check. When she fully applied her will and her Mind Magic, it was almost impossible to resist her command. That Maymyint had found a way to combat their Matriarch's blood magic was an impossible thing. Distinctly, Marong recalled the Grandmaster warning him that any descendants not subject to Me Nu's control were sent to the Tyrant, that or fed to the pseudo-dragon-carp in the lake. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. "I have a new Master now!" Maymyint snarled. "I am free!" Before Marong could rebuke the irony of what Maymyint had declared, his sister reached out with both hands and took Me Nu by the arms. "Hag! Your time is done! Progress waits for no one!" Tzsss! "ARRRRRGH!" Me Nu screamed as radiant energy seared her scales and melted the golden mounts upon which her jewels were clustered. "Make me prostrate?" Maymyint exalted as she tore a chunk of charred flesh from the Matriarch's body. "That's the last time you threaten me!" "Guards! GUARDS!" Me Nu cried out. Marong's eyes, were he still in his physical form, would have bulged from their sockets. Maymyint, attacking the Matriarch! It was insanity; the world had gone topsy-turvy! "You ingrate!" Me Nu struck out with a blow of her own, but her body, as Marong suspected, was old and frail, a scarecrow wearing a skin of youth the House of M had supplied for almost half a century. Beneath Maymyint, Me Nu's lower body suddenly fused, becoming the likeliness of a snake, but whatever Maymyint had done was keeping the Matriarch bound in her human form. With this final indignity, Me Nu grew desperate. "Are you working with Aung San?! Did he set you up for this? Do you hope to give up the House to those peasants?! To those rebels?!" Maymyint didn't speak. Instead, she pushed Me Nu to the floor and began to choke the life out of their matron with a sadistic glee that bordered on orgiastic joy. "Is it the B-British?" The Matriarch choked and howled, her face turning half-cobra before turning back again. "No-Tsss-M-Maymyint- Sss-spare-" Mindful of his incorporeal heart pounding away somewhere in the Astral Realm, Marong descended into the throne room, slinking across the ground, mingling with the smoke from the sandalwood incense. He had no love for the Matriarch, but this was an opportunity. An opportunity that would likely never come again in his life. A chance to be free. Maymyint was going to be another Me Nu. Nothing would change with her reign. Even so, their eldest had the right idea. If his sister could make the hard choice to fight for her future, then so could Marong. "Garrr… Garrrrk… Fles… of mine..." Me Nu struggled for breath. Scales painted with golden flakes began to cascade from her body as her waning vitality began to shed what age should have taken long ago, filling the antechamber with a musical series of clinks and clangs. "All shall end in Nagaland," Maymyint boasted even as the flesh of her mother began to soften. "When Mayuree and her friends clash with the Tyrant, when the Shadowmen stir up Aung San's nest, they will smash themselves against the fortress." "F-fool…" "Oh, I don't expect either side to succeed." Maymyint giggled, ratcheting up the pressure on her sizzling fingers. There was blood now; Marong could see broken skin on Me Nu's throat, affecting a great stink as the Matriarch's ancient plasma steamed and boiled. "All they, and Gwen, and the IIUC teams have to do is create a distraction and then… hahaha…" Me Nu shrivelled, her clawed feet kicked, then all life departed. Maymyint looked around, dazed by the blood and gore covering her from her throat to her thighs, baked into her dress. With still shaking hands, she began to draw a communication glyph from the floor, using the Matriarchs blood as a convenient medium. Marong meanwhile, slipped just behind his Enchanter sister, mindful of her sensitivity to magic, keeping his magical signature at a minimum. With a flourish, Maymyint completed the circle. "It's done!" The glyphs activated, proving the potency of their Matriarch's demi-human serum. In the next instant, a sudden stink of draconic-essence permeated the room. Marong knew by now his sister was in league with the Tyrant. If so, they were all in danger. Mayuree was in danger, Gwen was in danger, the House of M was in danger, and so was all of Myăma. But not if he could get his way. It was funny how when the Matriarch had sent him to Manipur for ten years of torturous training, he had sworn to kill her and free himself and Mayuree and that now, he was going to avenge the old bitch. But first, Marong sought to know what his sister was trafficking. "So you have chosen satisfaction after all," a deep and rumbling voice rolled across the throne room, eliciting a willing prostration from his proud sister. "Was diplomacy too difficult?" Shit! His ghostly anatomy puckered. That's NOT the Tyrant! With one hand, he worked the killing spell, with the other, he readied himself to activate the necrotic device tethered to his craft. Maymyint possessed a Contingency Ring, meaning he had to offset any healing she received when she reappeared in her contracted Tower. Without warning, Maymyint grovelled so low that Marong found himself vis-a-vis with a glowing eye, electric-blue and golden-slitted, staring past the woman and toward his incorporeal visage. Their eyes met. Every cell in Marong's body, astral and solid, stood at a standstill. "Humph," the voice hummed. "Tell me of events in Kachin." "Gwen Song and her ilk are at each other's throats," Maymyint obediently replied from the floor. "They should be resolving their quest very soon. I have arranged for Mayuree's extradition to Nagaland once they reach Indaw." "And the Tyrant?" "Fuming." "Delicious, and what of your promise to Marong?" "Lord?" At the mention of his name, Marong felt his magic begin to unravel. "Did you not assert that young Mayuree will be safe?" Maymyint appeared confused by the unexpected inquiry. "Forgive your servant for not understanding. The sorceress and my sister are bait." "Indeed they are," the voice grew low. "You may proceed as planned." "As per your will." Maymyint bowed, just stopping herself before she slammed her head on the jade carvings. "Go now. I shall be in contact." Without a word, Maymyint shuffled away, leaving the mangled, half-transmuted corpse of Me Nu, surrounded by precious jewels and gems, to decorate the otherwise spotless golden throne room. Very slowly, mote by mote, Marong began his retreat. "Marong." The eye abruptly refocused its attention, and now it addressed him directly. "Your foster mother and something of a matron is dead. Do you hold any affection for her, or is your allegiance akin to that of your surviving sister?" Before Marong could answer or turn to flee, a dense coil of mana flooded the throne room, making the air as thick as molasses. Something incredibly dense was gathering at the centre, as though a cumulonimbus cloud had suddenly formed in the throne room's golden interior. In an instant, a dark fog, moist and wet like a monsoonal thunderstorm, filled the vacant space, painting the cold walls with moisture. Marong had been through enough danger to know that nothing good would come of staying any longer. "Blin—" "Zexenuma!" the voice that now boomed across the room made Me Nu's earlier command sound gentler than the archery of rain on Kandawgyi. The weight of Maymyint's masters' words pressed in upon his skull with the force of a Stone Spear to his brain, seizing the entirety of his being. He understood the word; in the draconic-tongue, it was a simple command to "Stay" - as one would say to a dog. With a crash, his physical form fell into the material world, striking the floor with a resounding thunk. Now held hostage by rebellious limbs, Marong stood still as a statue while the cloud collated, growing solid, crackling with lightning and fulminating with low thunder until it took on the form of a man. Slowly, as though with all the leisure in the world, his assailant stepped onto the jade-green tiles of the throne room. Without regard for his captive audience, the monstrous existence exercised his humanoid form, flexing his fingers and extending his legs, craning his neck this way and that. When finally Marong gathered his wits, the Smoke Mage couldn't help but shudder; for he was staring at perfection. Maymyint's master was tall, at least two meters, with strong jaws, broad shoulders, a compact torso and long limbs. Where Marong had dark hair, the man had a silver mane that sprouted just above his bushy, ash-white brows, tucked behind the ears and flowing till his waist. The creature's physiognomy was majesty personified, his physique without earthly equal. When Marong's gaze fell lower, his eyes involuntarily widened. Abruptly, the man willed a black-silver longyi into existence, leaving his upper body exposed and glistening, rippling with vitality. "Sva escho," the man intoned with ease, his open mouth hinting at the flickering, forked tongue hidden within. Without warning, all the tension drained from Marong's body. "Who are you?" Marong quaked. "You're not the Tyrant." "Of course I am not the bastard," the man snickered. "You call me Ruxin, your new sovereign." Marong sniffed the incensed air. He finally recalled the origin of the nostalgic scent. How could he have forgotten the stink that Gwen had brought into his home? Who else could have easily dominated Me Nu? "You… you're …from…" Marong felt his bones groan. A primal terror unlocked from somewhere deep within his marrows, flooding his spine with adrenaline he couldn't expend. The Yinglong? Was this the Yinglong itself?! A mythic class being, here?! What had Maymyint invited into their home? Was his eldest insane? More importantly, was the Yinglong interested in their country? Was one dragon now going to fight the other for territory? If so, what about Mayuree? "I suppose I am." The dragon called "Ruxin" smiled gently. "I am but a vagabond prince looking for a home. In this, we are alike: two princelings of worth, seeking their fortune in a hostile world." Marong felt sticky perspiration drenching his sneak-suit. Alike with a mythic being? To say he was tongue-tied was an understatement. "Humph, I had thought you quick-witted like your sister," Ruxin observed. "Speaking of which, killing Maymyint there and then was a delicious display of good judgement. But did you think I could not detect your hostility? Had I less care for your sister, you would have delayed my plans..." The dragon laughed. "How shall I deal with you, young Marong?" Opposite, Marong's head was abuzz with chaos, though within that primordial chaos of dread and despair, survival and surprise, came a strange clarity. First of all, he knew that there were two paths ahead. One in which he and Mayuree lived, and one in which he and his sister were dead. Either way, Ruxin would get his way. Maymyint was right in one aspect: that Yangon had survived this long without a Tower was an anomaly. The status quo Me Nu had maintained with bribes was untenable; the House of M's mercantile network would only last so long before external forces, and internal strife blew the lid. Restoration of the Mon and Pyu bloodlines? A return to the governorship of Myăma? Marong could hardly relate to those ageing aspirations, for they were the dreams of an older generation, apparitions from the past. Compared to old compatriots like Maymaruya, Marong was born in the mountains of Manipur, shipped to Shanghai for his education, then returned to Manipur to be trained as a tool for the Royal House's restoration. He had a dozen siblings then, Thint, Ne Win, Sein, Kwat, Un, Khun and others whose faces he could no longer recall, that and Mayuree, who had clung to his sleeves and cried at every turn, the youngest of their batch. Now that Maymyint had sold their homeland, why should he remain loyal to a cause that had never been his own, now usurped by another for personal gain? The words that came to his throat surrendered themselves with a fantastic satisfaction, "delicious" as the dragon would say, for it was Maymyint who had shown him the way. "My Lord Ruxin, are you familiar with the Centurion Program?" His unexpected meander must have surprised even Ruxin. Where the dragon had worn the contemplative boredom of a predator toying with his prey, there was now a slight rise to his brow. "Maymyint had mentioned it." Ruxin nodded with pleasure. "Profitable, I believe." "Did she inform you that Gwen Song was the progenitor of the program?" "Not as such." Marong observed he had been allowed to continue. "Lord Ruxin, Gwen Song lies at the heart of the Centurion Program." Marong took a gamble. "Maymyint is a fool blinded by her lust for power, which is why she failed to have your interest as her core priority. I know she seeks to borrow your Lordship's terror to cow the House's foxes into submission, but please allow this one a moment to clarify her fault." "Very well, you have it." "My Lord." Marong wracked his brain for details, cursing that he had only read the reports in a cursory sense. "The Centurion Program is a credit system the likes of which we have never seen before, at least not in Asia. What Gwen had helped Manager Maymaruya set up in Shanghai is but the seed of something infinitely greater. With only one tier 1 city feeding into the program, the Shanghai division of the House of M has become the preeminent investment our operations now possess. The program, my Lord, is pure profit, not resources dug from the earth, but wealth from thin air, credit and interest, usury by design on an industrial scale. If the program could be successfully replicated in Tokyo, in Seoul, in Singapore, in Hong Kong and beyond, what it may well produce could be the equivalent of many a Myăma and all of its pits of nephrite and jadeite!" "You had my curiosity." The dragon's eyes were burning holes into Marong's brain, branding him somehow in ways Marong could not begin to imagine. "But now you have my interest." "Allow me to be your regent," Marong proposed, falling to both knees. "Maymyint has incurred Gwen Song's ire and can neither compel nor elicit her aid. Moreso, if and when Mayuree perishes, that will be the end of our cooperation. Your exalted expansion will be hundreds of times more arduous; our competitors will have us by the throat. For the Centurion Program to continue, and for you to reap its benefits, my Lord, Gwen must remain on our side. Mayuree must remain tethered to Gwen, and I: I shall be your regent where your Grace's presence is too precious." Ruxin's grin grew until Marong thought for a moment he was going to be swallowed whole. "You sister promises the loyalty of the Shadowmen of Manipur." "The Grandmaster is my master, Lord," Marong's voice croaked. "I know him. He will follow you or I or Mayuree even, so long as our supply lines remain intact. His is a developing Frontier, and our alliance is one of mutual benefit, untethered to any one person." "You lost something of a mother already." Ruxin clicked his tongue. "Now you trade a sister for a sister?" "This one desires only to serve." Marong touched his head to the floor. "Mayuree is but an instrument which your Lordship must preserve, just as Maymyint is one my lord has expended." "Raise your head." When Marong looked up, he saw Ruxin's glowing, single-slit eyes staring back down. "Allow me to clear a mild misunderstanding, young Marong." Ruxin appeared to mull over his next words. When he finally delivered them, Marong's whole world began to quake. "I shall accept your offer as my regent, your sister shall live, and I shall even allow you the liberty of exacting your human justice, as I had allowed Maymyint. But - let me elucidate on how the events shall now proceed." In a moment, Marong's mind flooded with knowledge, bloating his brain against the confines of its mortal casing. "You see, young Marong." Ruxin's voice filled every nook of his skull. "What you failed to understand is that the jade, the land, the people, Yangon, Mandalay, Kachin, Nagaland, the Tyrant, Aung San, your sister, yourself, the House of M and even the Calamity... ALL shall belong to me."

From day one in Mandalay, it was self-evident that there was insufficient food, medicine, machinery and materials for all four universities to attain a balanced ration of CCs. When inevitably, fights broke out, leading to impromptu duels all over the city, the teams convened to work out a formal system of splitting the resources without actually setting fire to the whole thing. The resulting solution was a reasonable point-system where duels determined the amount of goods each team accumulated. The result was that having sent their ace members northward, Seoul and Jiantong staggered, while Fudan and Kyoto proved similarly matched. To further ensure fairness, a proctor was invited to supervise the duels, after which the assets were distributed accordingly. "I wonder if the northern expedition teams are working as amicably as we are," remarked Anwei, a member of Jiantong's supporting team, much to the mirth of his peers. "I believe Gwen would welcome something like this," Tei assured them, thinking of their selection trial. "Rest assured; she works very well with others." On the fourth day, Jiantong received news that their Captain had forfeited the match. Embarrassed beyond measure, Tei supervised the splitting of their rival's loot between the Koreans, the Japanese, and Fudan. "I heard your Ace was the one who forced Jiantong to capitulate," Chong Jei, a cautious member of Seoul U, observed as he received their surplus manifest. "I hope she's not thinking of challenging our Lee Sunbae-nim." "Gwen is fully open to cooperation," Tei said to his Korean counterpart. On the fifth day, Seoul received news that they were returning home. The girls cried while the young men fell into a disbelieving stupor. Kyoto and Fudan agreed to split the loot from Seoul U fifty-fifty. "..." A Kyoto member held his tongue lest Tei unleashed another prophetic curse. "That's our Gwen," Eunae declared proudly after returning from consoling her Korean compatriots. "I heard she took out Sung Lee, Si-Won and Jung-min. The three might already be back in Korea." "Wocao, Gwen is a monster." Jiro whistled. "Just Kyoto to go then." Rene waved at their final opponents. "I can't wait to hear it first hand. Gwen, taking out two teams back to back? I wonder if she bothered to take a breather in between the slaughter. Maybe in two days, we go home the victor." The rest of Fudan's team members took a moment to imagine Caliban hunting down Kyoto's Mages one by one. With thus a week to reorganise their northward expedition, Tei and Kyoto U's representative, an Onmyoji called Kyu Sakamoto, began to pressure the local government for logistical support. Unsurprisingly, they initially met with ceaseless stonewalling until, without any particular reason, the provincial governorship relented, gifting the teams with vehicles and materials galore. "Unexpected boons," Jiro, always open to a good fight, suggested something was afoot. "Is never a good thing." "It doesn't matter; we proceed as planned, we'll be fine as long as we're careful," Fudan's Captain assured his team. So it was that on the tenth day since arriving in Mandalay, with little to no knowledge of events in Kachin, the teams set out, protecting a great train of supplies. It was just as well that they now possessed military cargo trucks, not to mention NoM operators. Though their lumbering engines were decades old and likely from the last war, it would suffice for the journey north. Only a week ago, Tei was looking into buying buffalo and donkey carts. As for critical supplies such as potions and medicines, those remained in Tei's ring. At the forefront of the convoy was Kyoto, clearing the landscape with their communally conjured Kami. For the journey ahead, the teams had agreed on cooperation over conflict. Rene worked on filling potholes and securing earthen banks with quickly solidifying pillars of Magma. Tei meanwhile, planted wards to keep away magically inclined fauna. As for their NoM labourers, the masses riding along within and atop the trucks were cared for by Kyoto's Abjurer, Yumi, who worked with Eunae in looking after the three-hundred NoMs who accompanied the convoy, dispensing minor fortifications of strength, spirit and stamina. "If fighting starts…" Tei informed both parties, for it didn't take a veteran to taste the tension in the air. "Gather the NoMs between the first and last six vehicles. I have wards set up." "As you will, Tei-san." Yumi and the others were happy to oblige. "If something terrible were to happen, do you think the examiners will intervene?" "Not while the competition is ongoing," Tei dispensed his wisdom freely. "That's how it is, I am afraid. Our mission may prove no less complicated than that of our A Team in Kachin." Gwen had never been to Indaw, a small township adjacent to a lake mid-way between Mandalay and Kachin. But as a fan-girl, she did know that it was the setting for Burmese Days, George Orwell's seminal novel and that the author's home sat in the next town, Katha, only five kilometres over. But in this world, there was no Nineteen-Eighty-Four. Had there been someone of Orwell's talent, their worthiness in a colonial backwater like this would have manifested only in Spellcraft, meaning they would have fled Burma at the first sign of Aung San's independence movement. What remained then, was a fishing township of ten thousand souls on the shores of Indaw lake, one of the smaller bodies of water to grace Kachin's northern catchment, fertile with loam and fecund with rice paddies, filled to the brim with mortal and magical flora and fauna. As their half-kilometre troop of labourers made slow but steady progress down from Kachin through the main arterial highway, Gwen was beset by a new and unexpected problem, one that jolted her from the Zen of micromanagement. Mayuree had come down with a fever. That Mages had illnesses was only something she had experienced herself, though her episodes were usually Void-related. What troubled Gwen was the timing of the occurrence. Now that victory was at hand, and they were on their way to meet with Tei and the rest of the team, Mayuree suddenly fell ill? It took a significant leap of faith to believe such a coincidence. And yet, she couldn't discount the fact that Mayuree had flown with her through wind and rain. That the weather had been humid, hot and cold, and that they had both gone through an excess of stressful encounters of late in a tropical, insect-infested region. If that wasn't enough to bring on a burning fever, then what was? God knew what pathogens lurked in the undergrowth or their drinking water. First, she had attempted a Remove Disease injector. When that didn't work, she abducted the Abbott of the monastery at Kamaing to La War to check on her friend. When the well-respected healer couldn't diagnose Mayuree, Gwen felt at wit's end. Logic told her to leave Mayuree at La War while she brought over Eunae, but a growing sense of paranoia brought on by Mia's glamoured disposition made her risk aversive. Finally, she relented to bring over Kyoto's Captain and Vice Captain to examine Mayuree, hoping that perhaps, the Japanese had an idea. After a suite of diagnostic magic, as well as a consultation with presumably a relevant Kami, Ichiro had this to say. "She's not sick," the Shugenja informed her. "It's her Divination that's acting up." "What?" Gwen and the others from Fudan looked from Mayuree to their Japanese counterparts. "Mayuree-san, how do you feel? Have you seen any visions?" "That can't be. I don't feel fearful or frightened," Mayuree protested feebly, her face unusually pallid and her brows covered with a snail-sheen of sweat. The Diviner had remained lucid, though she couldn't hold down food and she tossed and turned in her sleep with the vigour of one possessed. "There's a charm suppressing your talent." Ichiro drew a line of pale Enchantment from Mayuree's forehead. "Your Sigil is alerting you, but an Enchantment in your mind is preventing you from acting on it. That is what is causing the fever." "Can you do something, Ichi-san?" Gwen croaked, unused to seeing sickness and suffering in those to whom she had grown close. Before they left, Walken had advised that they should minimise disruption to the competition; now that Fudan had it in the bag, she was willing to expend certain certainties to repair Mayuree. "Name your price." "We are happy to help." Yuki stopped Ichiro before the exchange grew uncomfortable. "A fellow Mage is ill. It is all of our duty to ensure she recovers." "But she isn't sick, Yuki-sama," Ichiro pointed out. "I fear Gwen-san has problems of her own; ones we cannot help." Which meant they should mind their own business, Gwen deciphered. "Ichiro-kun." Yuki dialled her imploring eyes to eleven. "Please." "I don't have access to a dispelling mandala," Ichiro confessed, red-faced and embarrassed. "It's not that I do not wish to help, Gwen-san, just that it isn't safe. Without a mandala to drain the embedded magic, the feedback could make Mayuree-san's condition worse." Which ultimately led to their present condition involving a delirious Mayuree, bundled and strapped to Ariel's back, kept snug and warm and shielded from the rain by Lea. As an offering of compassion, Yuki, Masahiro and Hiroki cleared the road ahead with Dororo, working with Richard, Lulan and Anita to excavate the overgrown highway buried under rubble and ruin. At night, Gwen slept with Mayuree in her Habitat, enduring the girl's feverish mumbling and muttering even when cradled against Gwen's cool dermis. Outside, her dogs patrolled their surroundings, protecting their troop of NoM labourers sleeping beside rows of carts, punctuated by the rare motor vehicle. Two days later, from half a kilometre up in the air, Gwen caught sight of Indaw. "There's Gwen!" Eunae waved as Gwen alighted among her fellow Mages from Fudan, a bundle strapped to her back. "Eunae! Mayuree's sick!" Contrary to the Cleric's great expectations, Gwen landed with a stumble. "We need to do that thing. Are you good to go? Tei, how long are we resting in Indaw?" "We planned to move tomorrow morning," Tei hailed his Vice Captain, who hastily bowed. "The NoMs need rest. What's wrong with Mayuree?" "Ichiro says she's glamoured and her Divination is clogged," Gwen crudely explained. "Her brain is melting." Before Tei could speak, a furious Kitty pushed past Fudan's Captain. "How could you!" Kitty's crow-black scowl sliced at Gwen's conscience. "You liar! You said Mia would be safe!" "Mia IS safe." Gwen fumbled for words, finding none that would suffice, serving only to infuriate a livid Kitty who saw evidence to the contrary. "I don't believe you!" Kitty snarled. "Liar!" "Kitty!" "Get off me!" "Kitty, calm yourself, Mayuree needs help," Tei intervened. "Gwen?" "I need at least an hour with Eunae in the Portable Habitat," Gwen explained, too anxious to bother with Kitty's prodding, settling instead for eventual hindsight. "Tei, you'll have to trust me. Can you hold the fort?" "Sure," Tei told the others to clear out and go find the incoming team and their labourers. "I'll take care of the rest. You take care of Mayuree." "Eunae?" "I am ready." Eunae nodded. "Master Walken gave me everything I needed." "Gwen, please!" Kitty reached out to peel the groggy Mayuree from Gwen's back. "Where are you taking her? What are you doing?" "KITTY! NOT NOW!" Gwen barked, striking the girl with dragon-fear, driving the pleading Ice Mage back. After three days of not sleeping, her patience was on a short fuse. Kitty stumbled, dazed despite her best efforts. "You may come in when I tell you." Gwen found a space between two trucks, canvased and well shielded from sight, then laid down the Habitat. "Tei, I am counting on you, let me know if anything's wrong. Eunae, let's go." The Habitat opened its portal. Gwen authorised herself, Mayuree, Tei and Eunae, adding in Richard and Lulan just in case. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. "STOP!" Kitty screeched. When she reached for the portal, she found its mirror-like surface incorporeal and intangible. "NO!" "Miss Liang, compose yourself!" Tei glared. Kitty had been a perfect Captain's little helper the whole erstwhile in Mandalay, so it was off-putting to see the girl in such a wretched state. "Gwen knows what she's doing, and Mayuree will shortly return, so stop embarrassing us any further! You'll be on Vid-cast! Act professionally!" When Kitty turned, her expression was such that he reflexively allowed a half-syllable of Dust Shield to touch the tip of his tongue. Thankfully, Ice Mages cooled rapidly. "Sorry," Kitty mumbled, then stalked away, likely trying to find somewhere dark and cold to brood. Tei shook his head, then met the gaze of Jiro and Rene, who had kept a safe distance as soon as Kitty began to act up. "I told you she's in love," Rene remarked to Jiro. "The girl talks about nothing but Mayuree at night. Never had I thought an Ice Mage could be so fired up." "But…" Jiro glanced at Kitty's retreating figure, then at the portal. "They're both girls?" It took Eunae twenty minutes to set up the Dispelling Mandala Walken had taught. "Magister Walken said that when dispelling persistent-effects like embedded Mind Magic, it's not the same as the disruption type Dispel," the girl explained as she drew lines onto the grey floor of the Habitat's interior space with a reagent dispenser. "The mandala's effects can be multiplied many times, depending on the type of material used. Right now, I am using a mithril and silver compound. The Magister couldn't find one in Yangon, so he took one from his private collection." Wily old Eric seemed to have many things in his "private" collection, Gwen noticed. From marmalade to cigars to vintage wine to magical reagents. "Is it going to work?" "Seonsaeng-nim said it should dispel anything tier 6 and below without incident," Eunae returned her enquiry, evidently feeling impressed enough by Walken to use a culture-specific honorific. "We practised a few times. He's an excellent teacher." "I suppose he's got his merits." "You're so lucky," Eunae gushed. Gwen felt conflicted. When they returned, there would be a tongue lashing from her excellent instructor, though for now, Eunae's worshipful tone made her skin crawl. "I know Mayuree is important to you." Eunae seemed to enjoy their little role-reversal now that Gwen was the flustered one and she was the one helping. "But as long as we follow sir's instructions, Mayuree will be perfectly fine!" "Magister, I think you should look at this." Evelyn Hass brought Chief Proctor von Schlabrendorff over to the Lumen-projector. A day prior, half of the examiners' group had relocated to a mobile field base in Katha, from where they would witness the handover between the two convoys as the teams once again converged before moving up into Kachin. On the fourteenth day since commencement from Yangon, a declaration would announce that the first round of the qualifier was over, and contestants would then be sent home for a week of recuperation before embarking on the second round of the qualifiers. "It better not be a dragon," von Schlabrendorff grumbled as he set down his coffee. "I would prefer a dragon at this rate." Hass punched in a dozen glyphs in quick succession, zooming the map out. "A group of unregistered magic users just appeared in the lake's centre." "What was there previously?" "An old jetty sir, it wasn't anything suspicious…" "None of our business, either way." Von Schlabrendorff motioned for the others to gather. "What's the House of M doing? Are they expecting our students to engage in extracurricular labour?" "Looks like our hostiles numbers in the twenties." A third Magister operated his lumen-caster. "I am not seeing anyone with a significant mana signature but- WOA!" "Is that a Swamp Hydra?" A fourth zoomed in on the shape that just appeared. "How are they transporting something that size through Teleportation Circles?" "Two Hydras! Was there another force in Burma with so much resource?" The third wracked his brain for data. "Does a Frontier of this size even have that many mid-tier Mages?" "I would presume the Rogue Mages are Aung San Yuzana's freedom fighters, from Nagaland," von Schlabrendorff remarked. "Pay them no heed. One assumes they're here to loot or destroy the supplies. Also, knowing where they're from, I don't think they're Hydras." "Nagaland?" The fourth checked his notes. "Our Indian Protectorate?" "Originally belonging to the Mon and the Pyu empires, then annexed to the Mageocracy, then lost in the Beast Tide," von Schlabrendorff reminded his Mages. "But yes. That's where the Tyrant is said to have originated." "So the Tyrant is a..." "And those are…" "What else?" von Schlabrendorff scoffed. "Isn't it natural for Nagas to live in Nagaland?" Yuki and her crew of Onmyoji were the first to notice the sudden change in the elemental composition of the air, sensing a wave of distress as the local Kami fled from the lake, dispersed by the disruption in the natural flow of the ley-lines' energy. "Everyone!" Ichiro's voice boomed across the township, enhanced by his vocal prowess. "We're under attack! Monsters approach from the lake! Unidentified casters are moving into range!" "Ichiro-san. We're here!" "Captain Bai! Where is Gwen-san?" "She's indisposed," Tei apologised. "We'll set up a perimeter for now." "Then we'll do our part as well." Yuki joined the two men. "Dororo will shield the south entrance to the village, while Koishishi will guard the west. Are we moving the convoy out?" "You'll have to go first." Tei nodded. "Gwen's immobile for the time being, and it's too dangerous to spread our forces along a battle line. We'll clean up the rear as soon as we're ready to mobilise." Meanwhile, two to three hundred meters away, combat had been joined. A cacophony of elemental effects erupted where the lake met the village, sending up plumes of dark smoke where fire, earth and other volatile forces dismantled the old colonial dock. Towns with a population density like Indaw generally possessed a local militia involving a handful of low-tier Mages led by a Senior Mage, accompanied by able-bodied NoM soldiers. "They're sacking the town!" Ichiro scowled. "Bastards!" "Tei, are we withdrawing?" Jiro drifted overhead, nodding in passing at Ichiro. "Mao! Look at those Hydras! A big green bastard and a purple one! I haven't seen one since Yunnan!" "Is this a part of the test?" Anita, Rene, and the others had by now also located their Captain. "Tei, they're not here for the town." Richard had finished erecting Walls of Water in a wide perimetre in an effort to calm the labourers. "They've spotted us, and they're coming here. Ichiro, can you take care of the NoMs? When the fighting starts they're going to panic." Ichiro nodded. The last thing they needed was bodies adding to the anarchy. "O Kami of the land and water, humble this one. Calm our disquieted hearts! PEACE!" The Kotodama user sent out a ripple of magic with a sudden eruption of his baritone voice. Where his power word resonated, Fudan and Kyoto's hired labourers, together with local villagers who had fled toward the trucks, ceased their terrified milling and instead looked to the student Mages. "Great work." Richard gave the man a thumbs up. "Load the NoMs up so we can draw the fighting away from the village. Jiro, Rene, you guys fought Hydras before?" "Twice." Jiro rose into the air beside Richard. "It's their unlucky day that I am here." "First time." Rene joined them. "BUT, I am sure well-done Hydras don't regenerate." "I'll cover them." Anita followed, buffing the duo mid-flight. "Don't damage the supplies!" From a Storage Ring, Tei produced four yellow parchments scrawled with red glyphs. "Ichiro, these are for your trucks. They're single use, effective against tier 5 and below." He then leapt from vehicle to vehicle, activating the wards drawn on the canvas. "Thank you, Bai-san." Ichiro received the Fuda, then retreated to reconvene with his team. "Tei! They're here!" Jiro's voice came through the Message device. "Engaging!" "Keep the Hydra at a distance! Stone Vaults of Taishan!" Two-dozen tombstone pillars erupted from the soft ground; forming an impromptu Stonehenge around their circled convoy. "God, that's morbid." Richard winced. "I think a few of the NoMs fainted." "It's the Negative Energy." Tei Bai ignored the Water Mage's good-natured jab at his Clan's secretive arts. "Tei, Richard, you want me on offence or defence?" Lulan asked the two defenders. "Lulan, check on Gwen," Tei said. Lulan functioned best in close quarters, but first, they needed an electrifying distraction. The Sword Mage disappeared into the portal. "Here it comes!" Jiro's voice came through. "HO! LOOK AT THAT!" Across the village, where Kyoto University was encamped, a giant mud-man with two holes for eyes was wrestling a six-headed Hydra into the earth, pummelling the thing to the ground and wrangling its heads one by one. "Mao that's impressive!" At Fudan's defence perimeter, Jiro's burning passion became inspirited by Kyoto. Droning with a low voice, the Fire Mage's incantation grew to a crescendo as he reached the climactic conclusion of his tier 6, wide-range AoE. "PHOENIX PINIONS!" Though no actual sound echoed, the members of Fudan imagined a great caw as a burst of flames escaped from Jiro's Firebird Spirit, growing in length and girth like a peacock's blooming feathers. Once the plumes of vivid, multi-coloured fire fanned out against the sky, they burst into three-dozen flaming arrows, then descended upon the incoming wave of enemy Mages who had barrelled past the NoM militia's non-existent battle line, flanked by a Hydra on either side. A multitude of defensive magicks activated at once. "Show off!" Rene laughed, her cheeks warm in the glow of the firelight, delighting in the inundation of Elemental Fire left by Jiro's show of force. "Salamander Skin!" Suddenly, the Magma Mage clad herself in shifting plates of molten earth. Without pause, drawing glyphs in the air, she then pulled at the Para-Elemental Plane of Magma for a signature spell named after the enemies they were now facing. "MAGMA HYDRA!" A clump of liquified earth burst from the ground, sprouting no less than five heads, each three meters tall. It was a turret-type spell, one which allowed three consecutive micro-fireball blasts from each of the five Hydra heads. For a defensive battle, there could be no better offence than feeding enemies into a kill-zone established by an endless array of lava blasts. From above Fudan's convoy, a hail of ice began to descend. "Crystal Shell!" Anita was ready to cover her two damage dealers. "Dust Haze!" Unlike Jiro's multi-coloured fire or the scintillating beauty of Anita's crystal, Tei's aesthetics were downright depressing. From erected pylons of condensed dust drawn from the dismal Plane of Dust, a miasma spread, deadening all elemental effects caught within its range, transforming attacks into black snow. Half a kilometre away, one of Kyoto's twin giants affected a great howl, flaking stone and flinging mud to abruptly metamorph into a molten colossus. It was the elemental-shift for which the Onmyoji was famed, and when it swung its limb, a torrent of fire, thick as a two-lane street, caught the air, turning the lake into a great burst of superheated steam. Where the blast had passed, Tei caught the sight of an enemy Mage peeling from the pack, his shield suddenly exhausted. A second later, the man was aflame, a human torch stumbling across the scorched turf. Meanwhile, Fudan's Mages flanked their attackers from the right, suppressing the second Hydra with fire and magma. Unfortunately, the Hydra's rubbery skin proved resistant to heat, for heedless of the barrage, its six cobra-heads snatched NoM militiamen from in-between buildings. PSSSCH! A jet of odiously corrosive fluid ejected from between the maw of a thrashing Hydra head, smothering an unsuspecting member of Kyoto's team with a generous coating of slime. The acid-clad victim immediately teleported away, leaving his shield to corrode and collapse. "Forked Blast!" came a mid-tier assault from Rene, cowing the Hydra momentarily. "You guys' alright?" A gesture of thanks from their compatriots arrived in the form of a boulder that crashed into Fudan's Hydra, sending it careening into a building. "Oi, these Hydras have no—!" Rene called out. A Fireball enveloped the Magma Mage, sending her skittering across the oily-streaked sky but otherwise unharmed. "Refreshing your Mage Armour!" Anita called out from below. "No need!" Rene returned the favour with a self-seeking Magma Bolt, sending an enemy backwards with a violent snap. "Barely singed me!" By now, about three parties of enemy casters had begun to converge. Curiously, they appeared to be seeking something, for though they attacked the students, they avoided damaging the convoy. "Compress our battle-line!" Tei called out to his team. "Stay within range of the tombstones!" Though Tei had seen many a time when Mages by the hundreds worked together, it was the first time he had experienced the real chaos of a Mage on Mage, open field melee. Unlike battles against the Undead, whose monstrous wave tactics brought the occasional Wight or Spectral Rider, a fight such as this was pure anarchy. More disturbingly, he could see that the incoming force was professionally trained, for they moved in four groups of five Mages each, with a minimum of five or six dedicated Abjurers. If the hostiles were to launch an all-out attack heedless of losses, Tei had no confidence he could protect the convoy. What he needed was a force multiplier from their side, like Kyoto's Kami dolls. Then, as though conjured by a Wish, the Habitat's portal shimmered, materialising the rest of Fudan's team. When Lulan burst into the pocket dimension of the Habitat, she discovered Gwen and Eunae puzzling over Mayuree's belayed foretelling. "It's a trap!" Mayuree was trying to inform the two that this whole ordeal of coming to Kachin for the IIUC was folly and that Maymyint and the Tyrant were involved somehow. "Maymyint had offered me to the Tyrant! Marong tried to stop her, but I-I think I am on its list! If today's the fourteenth, then I am supposed to be in Nagaland already!" "Calm yourself, Mia." Gwen cradled the girl in her arms, unsure what else she could do. "No one is taking you anywhere. Tell me from the beginning. What happened after you spoke to Maymyint?" "She struck me with something, an Enchantment." Mayuree touched a finger to her sweat-stained brow. "I can't remember anything after that. It was like my whole mind was stuck in wool." Eunae checked the mandala to ensure that they had performed the procedure correctly. "We've dispelled something between tier 5 and 6," the Cleric informed her Vice Captain, pointing to the part of the patterned array on the floor that had grown dark. "The mandala is mostly used up." "A memory-binding spell?" Gwen wished she had as much access to Mind Magic as Walken so that she could tell what was wrong with Mayuree. "It seems so." Eunae turned to Mayuree. "Mia, we're in Indaw right now, and er... it's August." "A-August?! Are you saying we're in Kachin? Right now?" Mayuree gripped Gwen's arm like a startled koala to a gumtree. "We can't be in Kachin! I was- I thought it was July! Oh, my Goddess!" "Mia, we've almost won the first round of the IIUC," Gwen calmly intoned. "We have legions of Magisters with us, eight of the best from Fudan, ten from Kyoto and Mages from the House of M. It'll be fine." "But—" Mayuree coiled like a cooked prawn, then was suddenly sick. Gwen didn't mind the stink, although seeing her chippy Diviner in this state made her heart ache. Agonisingly, she thought of Kitty, who even now was outside ready to point accusatory fingers, feeling both guilt and annoyance. "GWEN!" Lulan chose this moment to burst through the tear between dimensions. "We're under attack by Mages from the mountains!" "Right now?" Gwen gingerly lifted herself to avoid splashing Mayuree's sick back into her friend's hair. It hasn't even been ten minutes after they ran the mandala, and now some vagabonds from the mountain were attacking them? The timing was far too perfect. "How?" "They came from the lake. I don't know if they're after us, or the convoy, or the town, it feels like spells are flying everywhere, and Hydras!" "Hold up, start from the beginning." Gwen struggled with Lulan's incoherent spiel. "Why Hydras?" "They're not Hydras," Mayuree moaned. "They're Nagas, from Nagaland! Gwen, leave me-" "Shhhh..." Gwen wiped her Diviner's mouth with a handkerchief. Lulan stared at the newly recovered but doubly frantic Mayuree. "Is Mia okay?" "No, she's not," Gwen assessed grimly. "They're here for me! They're recovering their Master's lost tithe!" Mayuree moaned. Gwen stroked the whimpering Mayuree. If what Mayuree said was true, then the Tyrant was supposed to take delivery of the House of M's tithing in July. If so, was Mayuree right? Moreover, was this a ploy of Maymyint's? Were they getting the Tyrant to butt heads with the IIUC proctors? Admittedly, the competition would be delayed while the Magisters dealt with the dragon; if that's the case, what victory or change could the House of M attain? Likewise, if she assumed Aung San was involved somehow, what manner of independence could be preserved when a Tower rakes over Arakan with spellfire? Though her danger sense remained placid, Gwen could sense in her bones that a controlling force was driving these forces to clash, though a missing piece of the puzzle eluded her. Who was the beneficiary of it all? She wondered. That was the answer she couldn't find. As for now, keeping Mayuree in the Habitat wasn't a possibility as magical disruptions to the device would send Mayuree spiralling into the material world. The best she could do was have someone like Tei, Anita or Richard take care of her while she and the others chased off their attackers. "Let's get out there then." Gwen had Eunae make Mayuree comfortable by propping the girl against Luyi, the healer's fawn. They then took the opportunity to buff themselves with Enhanced Ability, Flight, and conjuring seven baying electric-deerhounds eager for action. "Ariel! Caliban!" "Eee!" "Shaa! Shaa!" "Eunnie, keep Mayuree close. Lulu, you're with me." She took a deep breath. "Let's make this quick."

"Tei! What the hell's happening?" Gwen burst through the portal, followed shortly by Lulan, Mayuree, and Eunae. Where Indaw had been a lakeside township a few hours prior, it was now a setting for Rambo II. "Jesus, are we in a war zone?" "Mia!" Kitty Blinked in from thin air, embracing her companion with a fierce possessiveness. "Are you alright?" "Kitty." Mayuree was caught in her bodyguard's arms. "The Tyrant's after me!" The corners of Gwen's eyes twitched. "I am not sure what's happening here, but first, let's get mobile. We don't want Kyoto to getting too far ahead of us." Tei would have liked the whole story elucidated from the beginning, but he knew the situation could only get worse if they stayed. At the west gate, their rival's convoy had already cleared the town. "We'll be moving northward. Your friends from Kyoto are keeping our unexpected friends busy for now." "N-northward?" Mayuree spluttered. "No! We should be going south!" "We're very close to finishing the quest, Miss Mayuree," Tei patiently explained even as his shield dampened a Fireball. "Please move to the centre for your own safety." "I am staying with Mia," Kitty interjected. "You-" Gwen bit her tongue, forcing herself to delay her admonishment, giving in to the fact that from Kitty's perspective, she had indeed taken very little care of Mayuree. "Fine, go. Keep her and Eunae safe." The Ice Mage shot Gwen a cold scowl of disapproval before directing their Healer and Diviner toward a truck with enough space for the agonised Mayuree to lie down. "No! Don't leave me!" Mayuree reached out in futility. "I'll be within teleportation range," Gwen parted from her Diviner. Fucking Maymyint, she cursed internally. Whatever the hell that slithering snake in the grass may be planning, she would give the bitch a piece of her mind as soon as they returned to Shanghai. "Gwen, up here," Tei invited her up to the back of the end truck, a semi-trailer with a shipping container, within which Gwen willed her dogs and Caliban, anticipating a future ambush of whatever may come within melee range of their cargo. Unfortunately, the multi-team Spellcraft exhibition rampaging in the sky above proved more chaotic than a geometric Picasso. "I can't tell who's who." Gwen observed the melee. Buildings were falling, and Nagas were rampaging, Fireballs erupted here and there, followed by flashes of close-quarter combat as spells exploded through windows and lit up the alleyways. Indaw was by no means a large town, and from the looks of the collateral damage, there may not be an Indaw thereafter. _Crack!_ In the distance, she heard the familiar sound of Lightning Bolts materialising and striking the ground, making a familiar sound of fulmination as the air turned to plasma. An enemy Mage was throwing down a volley of explosive bolts, peeling away at a building where the local militia had sheltered themselves. Below, civilians fled in panicked mobs, roving across the street as the half-brick, half-galvanised iron construct began to disintegrate. "Does anyone anywhere give a shit about non-combatants?" Gwen ground her teeth even as Fudan's supply convoy began to withdraw. At the very least, she gave a shit about her NoMs. She would ensure the men and women that came with them returned to La War unharmed, even if they had to pack themselves like sardines to one side, barely caring to breathe or Achoo in the presence of Caliban and her dogs. "I dare say... no." Tei empowered a Fuda. "Incoming!" Two blooming mid-air Water Shields punctuated Richard's warning, catching a series of flaming missiles, one of which exploded into a Fireball, showering the hopping NoMs below with scalding liquid. "Fuck me dead. They weren't this keen before." "I think I know why." Gwen opened her conduits, transforming her invisible Ariel in the process. "Dick, can you mark my enemies for me?" "Will do! Lea?" Globules of glowing water immediately condensed around five Mages who had gotten too close to Fudan's retreating convoy for comfort. As Gwen incanted, her Kirin Familiar positioned itself. If they were going to punt these bastards back to the mountains, she would do it without adieu. Sensing her mana build-up, two of the hostile Mages attempted to disrupt her casting. One materialised a spear of stone, while the other conjured a sudden squall of falling fire. "Tomb Shield!" As usual, Tei Bai's barrier offered stoic defence and morbid aesthetics in equal measure, consuming both attacks effortlessly even as the Dust's necrotic aura chilled Gwen to the bone. "Barbanginy!" Gwen's retributive counter-fire lit up half the battlefield, painting the low clouds a viridescent green. With Ariel in position, her bolt made just over two revolutions between five enemy casters, blitzing from one to the next with instantaneous clamours of cobalt-green electricity. The initial hit, by far the most potent, singularly shattered an Abjurer's bronze-coloured Earthen Shield, sending her enemy into convulsive bouts of epilepsy. The resultant ricochet then ping-ponged from Mage to Mage, tearing through their depleted defence, sending the unsuspecting rogues tumbling from the sky. "Flame Burst" A torrent of Magma caught a Mage as she fell. Gwen's irises contracted upon seeing Rene giving her a thumbs up and an encouraging wink. "Go for the kill," Richard interrupted her internal revelry with a spot of unwelcome advice. "Gunther told me to remind you now and then of Blackheath." Before she could retort, Richard demonstrated his point by firing off a jet-blast of white water, sending another falling enemy spiralling into the distance, crashing into a Wall of ever-burning Fire deposited by Jiro. "Gwen, focus," Tei intervened when he caught her reddening face. "Look, Kyoto's no different." Indeed, Kyoto's giants were fending off the waves of incoming Mages with fire and stone. What Gwen's Captain underscored was the fact that Dororo, though cute as Gumby himself, was in the process of crushing a shielded enemy Mage like a soft-boiled egg. _Klang!_ "ARRRG—" A brief scream drew Gwen and Tei's attention to their right flank, where Lulan had caught an assailant flying close to the ground and around the town's waist-high vegetation. Unlike Gwen, whose Ariel could gauge when an enemy was disabled without wasting excess energy, the Sword Mage powered every swing without reserve, cleaving through her enemy's flesh and bone alike. After a dozen flurries in quick succession, an Heart-Piercing Sword impaled her target's chest, pinning an indigenous-seeming man into the gore-strewn asphalt. Elsewhere, another enemy fled into the distance, aflame with a burst of orange-white fire that refused to extinguish, dashing into the rice paddies in a futile attempt at salvation. The remaining enemies scattered, likely to regroup and reorganise. Gwen's instantaneous slaying of their Abjurer had opened a glaring hole in their defence. "Mercy is a privilege," her Captain remarked drily before activating his Message bangle. "Gwen, take the left flank. Jiro, Rene, you take the right. Mayuree, Message our drivers and tell them to increase speed!" "Oi, we got a big one incoming!" Richard collapsed a Wall of Water to refresh yet another. He and Jiro had been alternating walls every few hundred meters to discourage pursuit. "Gwen! Hydra on the left!" "It's a Naga!" Gwen shouted, concurrently sending out a mental command, unleashing her dogs from the container's interior. "It's mine!" A Naga slithered from the tall grass toward the trucks, making haste across the pavement with surprising velocity for a creature of impressive bulk. When the beast broke the fields of still-green rice, Gwen could see that in lieu of Richard's six-headed monster with a body like a brontosaurus, the Naga possessed no limbs, but a massively muscled torso with the likeness of a boa-constrictor. From chest to chest, the creature's central mass was at least the width of their cargo-trailer. "That's not the Hydra we fought earlier!" Tei reinforced his wards. "Mao! That IS a Naga!" Nagas were inherently draconic, meaning their resistance to magic was many times that of the pseudo-draconic swamp monster known as the Hydra. If that was the case, it explained how the serpent slithered through spellfire without being cooked, battered or electrocuted. "Fuck!" Richard swore as the Naga reared to its full height, each cobra head expanding their multi-coloured hoods. "Shit! Lea! Diffusion Shield!" As one, all six head began to hurl globs of sputum at the convoy. Lea managed the catch two of the six projectiles, Richard caught two, and the two gnawed at the Tomb Shields Tei had laid down earlier, sliding off the grey barrier to sizzle the asphalt with an odious stink of carbonising acid. "Nasty stuff." Richard's disgust was met with agreement. "Don't let it get close!" "I know! Tomb Wall!" Tei formed a circular Sigil with both hands, catching the Naga mid slither, sending its momentum awry by launching it a meter into the air. Catching the Naga's disorientation, Gwen's deerhounds closed in at once, crackling with electricity as they tore into the Naga's scale-covered body, tearing out great fleshy chunks of rubbery flesh and lichen-covered scales. Feeling the pain, the Naga thrashed, sending its heads to snap at Gwen's dogs. Her deerhounds, however, agile as ferrets and designed by Morden for the express purpose of monster hunting, evaded the envenomed strikes with yips and yelps. With an encouraging "EE!" from Ariel, the dogs renewed their assault by moving down the serpent's body and attacking its mid-section, snapping at its forked tail. "Do Naga heads grow back?" Gwen shouted at her captain. "I have no idea!" Tie Messaged back. "This is the first time I've seen an old-world Naga. I'd thought they had human faces and were intelligent creatures." "Guess we'll find out." Gwen waited for her dogs to position the Naga before she tapped into the Gate of the Void. "Void Seeker! Chakram! Chakram!" If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. "Dust Bolt!" Tei threw in his support. "Jet Blast!" Richard expended a portion of his mana to elicit a stream of super-pressurised water from a tear in the Elemental Plane of Water, aiming to hinder the creature's forward momentum. "Lava Lance!" From across the field, Rene spared a spell, striking the Naga from the rear flank. "Fire Lance!" Jiro added his piece. Gwen waited until her allies' spells had rocked the Naga's body before allowing her deadly frisbees to complete their arc, simultaneously enduring a spell of dizziness. 'GARRRRGH!" the Naga bellowed with a sound akin to a dozen elephants trumpeting. With the din of a mosquito swarm, her warrior princess Chakrams kissed her prey. _Thonk!_ _Thonk!_ _Thunk!_ The first managed half a neck before it dissipated. The second struck a foot lower, fizzling at the spine. The Seeker struck the same place as the first, completing its trajectory to exit on the other side. Two of the Naga's heads parted like zip-sawed fingers from a careless woodworker's hand. The remaining four howled, baying for violence. Twisting its body to shake the deerhounds, the now quad-headed Naga made a spring-loaded charge at the moving semi-trailer. Two of its heads stretched with unexpected reach, slamming into the steel container as Tei and Richard parried left and right. "Ariel!" Gwen's Kirin rammed into the creature, its horns crackling with electricity as it sent the Naga off course. The hounds had by now recovered, and once again, they mounted the Naga, snapping at its wounds and digging into its flesh with explosive bolts of electricity. Meanwhile, sensing the creature's draconic vitality through her hidden Caliban, Gwen brought to mind a spell which was perfect for the occasion. "Tei! I need a moment." "You got it!" The manifestation took the better part of ten seconds, then one by one, two by threes, torrent by torrent, a cascade of electric elementals from a vivid Elemental Swarm smothered the air. In a second, they fell upon the Naga, exploding across its vibrant scales and gnawing at its open wounds. Thanks to Ariel, she no longer had to fear friendly fire from her numberless elementals. Tei snuck in another Tomb Wall while the creature stumbled blindly. The Naga stacked into the pavement heads-first. "You really are built for monster hunting," her captain remarked. "Your true talent is wasted on Mages." "Ha!" Gwen's blood was up, the success with the Naga had offset the shame brought on by Richard's reminder. "The greatest is behind! Caliban!" From the back of the final truck where it had laid in waiting, Caliban slithered from the vehicle's interior, transformed into its spider visage to the background music of screaming NoMs, then leapt for the thrashing Naga, trailing a snail sheen of saliva. "Onslaught!" Gwen opened her vitality-valves, eager for Caliban to continue its evolution. Walken did say that with enough high-tier creatures in its gullet, Caliban could very well attain Ariel's cognisance. If so, there was no better candidate. "Consume!" "Lightning Sphere!" Ariel aided its brethren below with a paralytic explosion, keeping the Naga contained and incapable of movement. "Scorcher!" Jiro performed a flyby, momentarily breaking from his harassment of the enemy Mages, cutting a line of still-burning fire across the Naga's lower back. By now, the Firebird user had left a kilometre of vivid fire that denied all cover to their enemies. "Panzerschreck!" Lulan aimed for a head, taking off a chunk of jaw even as she revved up a second. With a target as large as this, she felt confident in her aim. With a jerk, the Naga staggered; the creature's hurt and agony plain for all to see. "SHAAA!" Caliban leapt into the air, casually allowing a cobra-strike to snap one of its limbs, then landed on the creature's back. Without delay, the spiderling's underbelly maw deployed, opening its grotesque cargo bay to unleash a gut full of writhing tentacles red and blue, eager to hunt for the creature's Core. "HISSSSS— NO!" The bark that came from the Naga was like an exploding gasket, with its final syllable ending in a cry of human anguish. Without warning, its torso shrank, shaking loose Gwen's dogs and momentarily confusing Caliban as it deflated. An illusion? Gwen wondered, but before she could react, Caliban renewed its assault. She could feel her creature's appetite hollowing the interior of her chest. It had been a long time since Cali had fed, and her monster was hungry enough to eat a herd of horses. "Astaka, save—" was the final cry she heard from the massive pile of deerhounds encircling Caliban's engorged form, indicating that it had swallowed something. When she panicked and commanded Caliban to regurgitate what could have just called out for parley, her monster opened its maw to reveal nought but a mass of newly hungry tentacles. SHIT! The immediacy of her mistake struck her. There was eating the creature's Core after a desperate battle, and then there was swallowing a demi-human mid-fight. There was also the fact that she just Consumed a sentient being, but that mental commiseration would have to wait. When would the vitality hit? By her previous counts, she had a few minutes at best. "Richard," she cried out. "I need to meditate!" It had been such a long time since Caliban ate something that broke her Nephres' Scale. If a high-tier, high-affinity healer was a ten, what new ecstasy would a four-meter-tall sentient Naga reach? She could be out for minutes to an hour! "Gwen!" Tei had a Dispel ready go. "What's wrong?" "I need a moment!" Gwen confessed a half-truth. "Caliban needs to digest." "Oh." Tei glanced at where the Naga had been just a moment ago, trying to catch Caliban in the chaotic action. Under where Fudan's Captain stood, Gwen struck the container of Tei's truck with an audible moan. When she looked up, the glazed orbs of two dozen labourers from La War met her eyes. FUCK! She could feel Caliban throbbing. There was no bloody way she was about to fall into a convulsive, orgiastic fit in front of strangers. "RICHARD!" "I am here!" Lea appeared overhead, setting a barrier shield of murky water over her master's cousin. Once the watery womb enfolded her, Gwen commanded Ariel, Caliban and her dogs to guard the perimeter of their moving line of vehicles while she could maintain them. Furthermore mindful of the deluge of vitality soon to bloat her conduits, she relented on switching Caliban to its stag form, refraining it from consuming any more enemies. "Shaaa!" Caliban burped, sprouting and twisting until it reached its full height, it's faceless mien scanning for targets to impale. Now cut off from external stimuli, she took a second to process the final visage of the desperate Naga. With her Essence-enhanced kinetic vision, her hindsight was truly twenty-twenty. The Naga was a woman; she recalled- an indigenous looking serpent folk with blue-green scales. Right before Caliban did his terrible ferreting for Cores, her enemy had reverted to a Demi-human being. After that, Caliban was large enough to swallow its target wholesale. She wanted to say she felt ill, that it was accidental; but in truth, her regret paled against the ecstasy of dominating her opponent. Worry not, the Caliban of her mind lubricated her conscience. The servants of Aung San attacked first, and Mayuree had to be protected. If she was going to eat it anyway, what difference did it make? Her digits twitched. Her abdominal muscles contracted. In her head, she could hear Caliban singing a happy song of madcap violence as it charged a party of screaming, screeching Burmese Mages fleeing its Medusa's visage. Retracting her legs, Gwen pressed her knees to her chest, coiled in a foetal position, clenched her jaws to avoid making too sweet a moan, then readied herself for the oncoming metamorphosis. "What a magnificent thing!" Lutz von Schlabrendorff found himself hunched forward, an inch away from the projection. "Absorption! Who'd have thought such a thing is possible." "It's not," a fellow Magister, a British member, corrected the chief proctor from across the table. "We have Void Mages as well. They can't do that." "Oh-ho? Then explain that." "It's her Void Beast, or the girl, or her unique magic," the Magister remarked. "Doesn't it remind you of someone? Although I hear Fudan will be releasing a Systematic Study on the subject soon. Submitted by Magister Marie-Roslyn Wen, I believe, the details are said to be very intimate." "Then we shall drink to interesting bedtime reading," a Magister chuckled, sipping his tea. "I find the refractory period after Consume particularly interesting." "A curious flaw," von Schlabrendorff agreed. "One I welcome gladly." "Sir," Hass interrupted the men's appreciation of the Void Element. "There's an anomaly within Fudan's formation." As one, the Magisters turned to the lumen-projection. "What the devil are they doing?" "Hass, who does that Enchantment signature belong to?" "Their controller, sir, someone called Kitty Liang. Her profile states she's from Kunlun, although the House of M remains her employer." "Note the use of non-registered magic and deduct CCs accordingly," the chief proctor grunted. "Wait, what's happening now?" "Their controller and their diviner appear to be breaking away from the party, sir." "Where are they going?" "Heading North-North-East, sir." Hass manipulated the map so that it zoomed outward. "Assuming trajectory by crow-flight, they're aiming for the border of Nagaland and Burma." "Can you get me a visual before they're out of range?" "Yessir, I'll bring them up now." There was a thrum of circulating mana as the Divination engine worked its magic, channelling the long-range Scry enabled by the Chief Proctor's Eye of Providence. From a bird's eye view, the magical vision fell forward with a sense of induced vertigo until it centred on the vague shape of two petite outlines. The smaller of the silhouettes had secured the first in what looked like a frosty cocoon; a spell used to capture subdued Mages. Concurrent with the lilac flush of Transmutation, Kitty's signature additionally exhibited the unmistakable golden halo of Enchantment. "An implanted glamour!" von Schlabrendorff raised a brow. "Not something we could have detected without an actual activation. Hass, additionally note the Mind Magic now active on the Ice Mage. Mark the signature and re-check records from Mandalay. Penalise Fudan accordingly if it has impacted the competition's outcome. I am starting to see where this is going." "Which is where exactly?" a fellow Magister patrolled the footage. "My word, they're going awful fast. That girl sure can fly. What are they fleeing from?" "From the Void sorceress." Lutz von Schlabrendorff glanced at the glyph that indicated Gwen Song remained stationary within the travelling convoy. How long would it take the girl to wake up? He wondered. More importantly, would the girl take the live bait and rush into Nagaland? If it were himself, he would not have put faith in a Mage from the Frontier having the gall to charge headfirst into certain doom. But having observed Walken's student for the better part of two weeks; he was starting to sense a disturbing trend. As for their current dilemma, he could only bank on Walken's projection that the deposed Royal House of Burma was playing with dragon fire. When he had questioned Walken about the man's unruly student and the possibility of the girl's connection to a certain wild Wyvern, his old acquaintance had hinted that the girl had links to mythic presences in both China and Australia, though neither received official verification. "Gwen thinks the Tyrant might be related to her in some convoluted way." Walken had explained his limited knowledge of the girl's multi-pronged affairs. "Though I disagree, her speculations do hold some merit." For von Schlabrendorff, one Dragon or two made no difference. The dilemma was whether or not a rescue action was warranted. For now, as one of Fudan's Mages had betrayed her team, there was no protocol for the IIUC proctors to intervene. As for alerting Walken, with the competition ongoing, it was improper for von Schlabrendorff to feed his friend any more information. By logic, regulation and creed, he was a neutral observer. "How far is Nagaland from Hpakan?" "About a hundred-and-fifty kilometres, sir." "Tell Hpakan to send out a relay team," von Schlabrendorff commanded his second. "Whatever happens, the record shall speak for itself." Fudan's victory was short-lived. Just as they managed to disable about half of the Mages pursuing their convoy, there was a cry of blue murder coming from the middle of the transport column. Hot-headed and bathed in spellfire, Jiro and Rene had ignored the interruption entirely, while behind them, Bai and Anita had their hands occupied deflecting bolts of fire, stone and electricity aimed at the truck's wheels. It was only Richard who heard, though when he finally pulled from the battle to inspect what had occurred, a great blast of air blew through the tarped roof, sending him skittering into the roadside rubble, scattering the NoMs that rode with them in every direction. After Richard cushioned the NoMs' deadly trajectories and recovered the tumbling Eunae, he found the girl dazed and covered in a thin crust of rime, safe thanks to her distressed nature Spirit. "Well, shit on a stick," he swore. "KITTY?! MAYUREE?" Looking up toward the hazy sky, he could scarcely make out Kitty's Flight form, already reaching an impressive altitude, visible only thanks to a trailing cocoon. Without warning, Aung San's Mages retreated, pursuing the fleeing Kitty as though Jiro had lit a flame up their arse. When finally the confusion cleared and combat concluded, Richard measured his team's present predicament. "Lea, how's Gwen?" "Recovering," Lea replied. "She's burning up, but I think she'll be okay." "STOP THE TRUCKS!" Tei called out from the rear, ordering the terrified NoMs back onto the vehicle. "Wocao! What the hell just happened?" "Kitty's gone," Richard informed their Captain as he knelt beside Eunae. "With Mayuree. She attacked Eunae." "I'll be f-fine," Eunae clattered while she circulated a healing spell from an anxious Luyi. "K-Kitty's gone c-crazy!" "Give me some heat!" Richard called out to the returning Mages. "Maybe she is trying to help us?" Jiro landed shortly, likewise troubled by Kitty's unexpected escapade. With a word, a Firebird settled beside the shivering Eunae. "Are you sure Kitty's not carrying out some crazy plan instead?" In Jiro's experience, Kitty was quiet and shy, but in no way a traitor. "I don't think Kitty is trying to help, Jiro…" Rene read Richard's iron expression far more readily than the straight-laced Fire Mage. "What happened?" Anita and Lulan were the last to join them, having come seeking Eunae's aid to heal the NoMs. "Kitty took Mia? Why?" Richard's answer came in the form of a complicated expression aimed at their vice captain's privacy bubble. Before he could clarify further, the barrier burst, revealing a radiant looking Gwen flush with supernatural vitality. "Let's not worry about the 'why' just yet." Richard felt his fingers grow suddenly numb. "Here comes the waking dragon. Who wants to hold her down while I give her the bad news?"

"Eunie, Resistance, Bless and Fortify! Annie, Mage Armour, Haste and Expeditious Retreat—" Gwen barked at their defender, all pretence of politeness driven from the usual mildness of her mannerism. "Come on, chop-chop! Every second wasted is an opportunity lost." Anita obliged, moving her lips even as Captain Bai's bloodshot eyes screamed for her to refuse. "I am coming with you," Richard insisted. "Me too," Lulan volunteered. "Mao!" Tei Bai growled. "We're in the middle of a match!" "A match we've won." Gwen turned to her Captain coldly. "Deliver the goods, connect Mandalay to the villages, and collect our CCs. Don't bother me if you're not going to help." "We're a team, Gwen." "And MIA is a PART of your team!" his Vice Captain snapped, then sighed. "Sorry Cap, the time for words will have come later." Tei pursed his lips, looking to his other teammates for help. "I'll come too." Jiro declared. "Count me in." Rene likewise disappointed Tei. Fudan's Captain facepalmed with both hands. "Thanks, guys." Gwen inclined her head. "But I need to arrive fast, and when I leave, it needs to be VERY fast." And without additional burdens, Gwen added mentally. "Do you know where to go?" "Yeah." Gwen materialised a transponder unit. "Minty had it all planned it out, right from the start." "You could be facing a whole dragon," Richard forewarned. "Gunther is going to miss his one-of-a-kind Ring." "Worth it," his cousin replied. "And no. My only purpose is to take Mayuree back." "Maybe Mayuree's Contingency Ring will activate?" Tei implored. "Save you a trip." "I somehow doubt that, Cap," Gwen replied as she lifted into the air. "Tei, please take care of things." "Lea," Richard implored his Spirit to partitioned a droplet of her elemental Essence into a vial. "Hold onto this. Lea will redirect us to you. Promise me, NO FIGHTING. We'll come as soon as we can." "Right. Mia and I will be back in a jiffy." Gwen slipped the container into her potion pouch, then without adieu, Fudan's primadonna blasted off. "Phew." Anita finally breathed, the tension draining from her face. "Mao, I thought we had to fight Ariel and Caliban!" Tei turned away, then stepped on the truck's bonnet. "Let's not tarry then, move out!" Xiao Mīao Liang was eight-years-old when she wandered the Wildlands. Her home, the Sect of Kunlun, had failed the test of time. Though the sect had survived since the Han Dynasty, the splendour of the cities proved too alluring for the younger generation of their warrior-hermits, and one by one, either tempted by a better life or slain by the monsters on the mountain, they dwindled into irrelevance. In the end, Xiao Mīao's venerable guardian, a distant relative, took the orphaned child down to Lhasa, through Bhutan, and finally to Manipur, where the Grandmaster of the Shadowmen then introduced Xiao Mīao to the House of Mü. By the end of their journey, her ageing guardian had grown worn and threadbare. With his dying breath, he tethered her to an heir of the Mon and Pyu, assured by the promise of provisions for his heir. So it was that at the age of eleven, Xiao Mīao entered Mayuree's service as her companion. "Xiao Mīao means cat!" her young mistress had been adamant on the name of her new pet. "You're Kitty from now on!" The Mīao in Xiao Mīao stood for "sprout", representing her Clan's hope that one day, she would grow into a mighty tree. Though her impromptu name change had foreshadowed her future in the House of M, the newly minted Kitty Liang had been satisfied with a home and a friend. At the age of fifteen, she tapped into a secondary element: Air, something the old Daoshi of Kunlun would have celebrated. She was given more resources to cultivate her skills, then assigned to higher tiers of learning. At sixteen, she returned to Mayuree, who was now responsible for a division of the House of M's mercantile operations in Shanghai and served as her friend's companion and guard in Senior school. She had by then learned of the seniority system among the House of M's siblings, so had sworn to protect her friend against all harm, even her kin. At eighteen, six-months into university at Fudan, Mayuree came to her with a vision. "She's going to save my life one day!" Her companion had stammered, brimming from the crown to the toe with confidence. "Kitty, my saviour is going to be at your scholarship practical!" And that was the first time Kitty met Gwen Song. Even without Mayuree's divined wisdom, Kitty knew that the Void sorceress was going to be her bane. Faced with a giantess wearing an uncommonly comely countenance, Mayuree became instantly smitten. When her best friend's eyes positively glowed at the auction, it was enough to send a frosty shiv twisting into her heart. After that, whether serendipity, fate or overt wilfulness on Mayuree's part, Gwen Song entered the orbit of their lives. At first, the crass Frontierswoman was just an annoyance; then with increasing regularly, she began to show up at their apartment at B1, abandoning her hovel to invade the sanctum of Kitty and Mayuree's abode. Gwen's constant presence had incensed Kitty to no end, far worse than when Marong, Mayuree's sister-obsessed inbred brother, decided to move into the master bedroom. Day after day, Mayuree grew closer to the younger woman, eating with her, drinking with her, even questing together and finally, starting a business together; an equal partnership, something Kitty could never achieve. Somewhere in between, Kitty witnessed Gwen Song eating a woman alive, starting from the head. Who was to say Gwen would not turn her appetite on Mayuree? Or that her aberrant Void powers wouldn't hurt Mayuree in some horrid, unforeseen way? But Mayuree would not listen, and that had hurt Kitty profoundly. Unable to respond, she instead took breaks, going out to quest, to train up her skills so that when she returned, she could best Gwen Song and prove that it was she who would save Mayuree, and not the six-foot space invader. "Gwen..." Mayuree's half-frozen murmuring shook Kitty from her retrospection. They were at an altitude mundane Mages couldn't reach, where the air was cold enough to freeze the moisture from one's dermis. Kitty wasn't afraid of the cold, as per her elemental trait, while Mayuree was safely cocooned in her Rime Shell, a spell Kitty usually used for bounties. After the IIUC selection, Maymyint had summoned her in Shanghai. There, three Shadowmen had cornered Kitty so that the Mind Mage could ferret through her brain. When she then tried to escape, to warn someone, anyone, their punishment had not been kind. After that; her memory became a haze. Training. Gwen Song. The competition. Yangon. Mandalay. Everything had been a blur. Then they arrived at Indaw, where Aung San's Mages attacked. As soon as Gwen collapsed in her grotesque throe of pleasure, Kitty knew what she had to do. An ardent desire blossomed in her head, and Maymyint's command that Mayuree must reach Nagaland's border outpost before the fourteenth day of the competition became paramount to her continued existence. With her capture spell, she had disabled a feverish Mayuree and an unsuspecting Eunae, and now, she would travel to the basin north of the Arakan mountains, just past Manipur. There, in the rolling green hills of Nagaland, she would find the mountain trail where for the last thirty years, members of Mayuree's family had been exiled to maintain the House of M's operations in the north. And when she arrives? Kitty couldn't guess even if she tried. For now, she could only lament her friend's divined wisdom. Gwen Song was Mayuree's boon. While herself, Xiao Mīao, had grown into Mayuree's bane. Nagaland. A flock of Wildland Doves took to sudden flight across a winding landscape which an imperial cartographer once labelled, "The Naga's Rise". The unusual crests and valleys of Nagaland were a formation both natural and supernatural, for here was the homeland of the Naga, a race of mythic beings once worshipped as lesser Deva. Ancient Tibetan records stated that the Nagas descended from the many-headed dragon Xiangliu, itself defeated by one of the seven followers of the Yellow Emperor, a dragon called Zhulong, occupying the Aspect of Fire. Atop the emerald valley lay the highest locality in southern Nagaland, Saramati Peak, the kissing-point of old colonial Burma and India, long before the cartographic border was made irrelevant by the Beast Tide. Below the peak itself, in between the saddle of two rising hills, was the beginning of what the Generals of Yangon would call the illusive Tyrant's Lair, the home base of Aung San's rebellion, and the last bastion of the man who once dreamt of Burma's independence. Within its vaulted underground palace lived the surviving children of Myăma's aborted independence. The first was Astaka, scion of Kauravya, the youngest Naga to follow Gautama Buddha. The other was Aung San Yuzana, inheriting the will of their father. Astaka's name meant "he who has eight parts", or as Yuzana had translated, he who desires the Noble Eightfold Path. Within the mountain's depth, many manuscripts remained intact, unsullied by the twenty-five centuries that had passed since Gautama reached the state of nirvana, ascending into the Unbound Land, taking with him his many-headed disciples. What Astaka recalled of his past lay only in fragments, memories baked into the jade shell of his egg, etched onto his Core when he hatched into the uncaring world; for the Naga are demi-dragons, creatures younger than the divine likes of the Shenlong, Yinglong and the Zhulong, whose eternal existence hailed from a higher plane. Comparatively, Nagas were terrestrial, having their beginnings in the material plane, incubated by a convergence of elemental forces given will and shape. "Yuzana!" Astaka fought to hold his humanoid shape intact, shaken by the horror of what he had witnessed in Indaw. "Where are you?" "My lord, I have arrived." A human woman entered the resplendent halls in which Astaka fumed. "What's the matter? News from the south?" "She ATE Virana!" The Naga's metamorphic form revolted, no longer capable of holding back the raw emotions burning at his throat. In a moment, his body bloated, swelling and growing until no less than seven heads sprouted from his shoulders, expanding until his mass filled the cavern. "She's gone, Yuzana, GONE! Not even her soul remained! Virana will never be reborn, do you understand? They diminished her, wholly and completely!" Stolen novel; please report. "What of my Mages?" the daughter of General Aung San pleaded. In the dim viridescent light of the jade plated hall, the woman appeared ageless, with a soft halo of radiance just above her temple. A human observer would have placed her in the forties, though her mien was well preserved, possessing the suppleness of one younger. "If even your Nagas are defeated…" "They are in retreat," Astaka wailed. "I've commanded Nila and Ugra to flee. But Virana is no more!" "How many of my kin still live?" "Eight or nine, before Virana's life was cut short." As the Naga spoke, each head uttered a word, yet together, their fluency flowed without pause. "Lord Astaka, can you speak to them on my behalf?" Yuzana bit her tongue, stifling her grief even as she spoke. It had been Astaka's idea to take the tithe by force, and she knew the Naga's regret was exclusive to his kin and not hers. As six heads continued to wail, one lowered itself toward her face. "Mistress?" came the voice of one of her officers. "Mistress! We're in pursuit! The target Lord Astaka had requested now moves toward Nagaland! W-we've lost half our men, including Kuhara, your brother. I… I am truly sorry." "We're past the time for sorrow." Yuzana lowered her voice, stroking the Naga's cobra-like mien. With time, Astaka would grow one more head, completing his namesake and come into his destined power. As for now, Astaka remained a young adult, barely past his fourth century. When Yuzana's father first found the creature and actualised their alliance, he had thought the being unparalleled, but since his demise and during Yuzana's conflict with the lineage of the Pyu and Mon, she had come to realise the reality of the Naga's immature power. That was why, rather than completing her father's wishes, she had to cultivate Astaka's growth. For even if they were to decimate Yangon, entirely possible with Astaka, his siblings and her Mages, without the Pillar of Jade and the Naga firmly seated in Nagaland, they couldn't resist the imperialists. "Do you know why they had a change of heart?" "No, mistress, the one bringing the tithing is Kitty Liang from the House of M. We won't be able to catch up." Kitty Liang, Yuzana mulled over the name. She knew of the dual-element sorceress, though they had never fought. "Are you followed?" "No, ma'am." "Good, once she nears the outpost, return to your villages." Astaka's head floated away. Yuzana tempered her disquieted heart. For months, even before their betrayal, Astaka's temper had been terrible, smothering the mountain with storms and landslides, making the lives of those farming on its tiled rice-terraces utterly impossible. If the levy was now delivered, did that mean Me Nu yielded? Could it be that the delay was not the fault of the House of M, but outside forces at play, such as the foreign Mages? At the thought of these invaders in her homeland, Yuzana felt a wave of anger. Again and again, the Mageocracy meddled in their affairs. An international university competition in Northern Burma? Who were they trying to fool? As for their lost kin, Virana was only two centuries old. Yuzana had watched the Naga moult as she took on her human form for the first time. It had been a feat much celebrated by Astaka, who saw Ugra, Nila and Virana as future mates. When she had first heard Astaka boast of his planned incest, Yuzana had been appalled, but in the decade since, she had come to accept that the Essence of higher beings had little to do with organic physicalities. In mating and eating, Nagas like Astaka magnified their "being". That was when Yuzana had the brilliant epiphany of making Me Nu sacrifice her army of diluted brood to their "Tyrant". As the old saying goes, even the meat of a mosquito could be nourishment. Then there was Kuhara. She had told her younger brother not to go, but he had romanticised himself a friend to Astaka. If Astaka was displeased and troubled, Kuhara had boasted, then it was his duty to make his compatriot well. "Yuzana?" Yuzana blinked. "Yes, my Lord?" "Your eyes are wet." "Pay it no heed, my Lord. Nonetheless, I have good news. The Diviner is on her way." "The line of Nahusha have capitulated?" "I cannot be sure, my lord," Yuzana confessed. "But you shall soon have what was promised." The good news seemed to distract Astaka from the new grief of losing a sibling, catching the lord of Nagaland between anticipation and melancholy. "Come." Astaka's response was to slither for the exit. "Let us question this soon to arrive Mayuree. I desired to know what manner of cosmic horrors they had to commit to rob me of my sister's Essence, and what her 'mother' means by their gross delay!" Maymyint's beacon flashed in the right direction, but the bloody thing was far from a GPS, meaning every so often, Gwen had to readjust her trajectory, losing time and distance. The bitch had planned for everything, Gwen grumbled as she Dimension Doored another kilometre forward, hoping the periodic displacement added to her haste. When she left Richard and company, she had been confident that with her estimated velocity of just over a hundred kilometres an hour, she should be able to catch up to Kitty. It was like a real-world application of those mathematics questions her high school teacher used to give out: A Kitty has absconded with Mayuree, travelling at 75 KM/H for forty minutes, and a very angry Gwen is in pursuit at 100 KM/H with the addition of Dimension Door at 1 KM for every 5 KMs covered. Calculate when Gwen could catch up to Kitty and light the traitor up like a Christmas Tree. The arithmetic was unfortunately not in her favour, considering Nagaland can't be more than two hundred kilometres away and she kept getting lost, but she had to try. It was her idea to participate in the IIUC, and she had been more than happy for Mayuree and Kitty to join her. She had also been overconfident that there was no way Maymyint could meddle with the competition, and in a way, she was right. The match was almost over, and barring a Kyoto miracle, Fudan would win. If she hadn't been in a hurry to chomp down on Caliban's upgrades, she wouldn't have allowed this to happen. Likewise, she couldn't have accounted for the fact that Kitty was a mole for Maymyint, and that she had planned to send Mayuree to the fucking Tyrant like a frozen turkey. _Fucking Kitty!_ Gwen fumed. To take advantage of her single incident of absence! No wonder Kitty avoided her like the plague. She should have known Maymyint would have Mayuree under watch and key. For how long had Kitty awaited the opportunity? The sheer level of convolution was astounding. _Was Maymyint expecting me to fight a fucking dragon?_ Gwen wondered. Had news gotten out that she had bested a Thunder Wyvern, only for it to be Chinese whispered into a Thunder Dragon? Was that the ploy? Did "saving" Mayuree by blasting Kitty from the sky, scooping up her friend and flying the fuck back to Hpakan where a dozen high-tier Magisters awaited not occur to the genius Maymyint? What of when Gwen returned to Shanghai? What was Maymyint's plan then? She willed a mote of Essence into her body, then pushed herself harder against the buffeting air. So long as she caught up to Mayuree, then everything would be fine. The drizzle that washed from Saramati Peak transformed into a deluge, painting the iron-rich escarpments white with rain, filling the canyons below with blood-tinged streams of ochre and rust. "What.. what happened here?" Astaka's mood mirrored the weather, or perhaps it was vice-versa. Ever since a few months ago, he had felt invaded, violated, as though the land that belonged to him was slipping from his grasp. Losing the connection to his domain was an impossibility when the Jade Pillar was in his control, but the paranoia he felt was compounded by the fact that he knew the scent of the invader. It was Yinglong; it had to be. Though Astaka had never met the elder being, his knowledge of the divine dragons was written into his blood, burned into his Core by the ancestral memory of the Naga's progenitor, whose ascension ended at the five-digited claws of a Fire Dragon. Now, his paranoia manifested in reality. At Saramati Peak, Yuzana had her kin set up a listening post which could observe all activity in the lower valley from Lay Shi to the densely forested province of Sagaing. From the mountain's vantage, Yuzana had witnessed the coming and going of convoys and invasions from the south. But when Astaka had arrived with Yuzana and her mountain Mages, what greeted them was a massacre. Around the camouflaged outpost reposed the bodies of Yuzana's kin, some crushed, others half-eaten, one torn bodily limb from limb, almost as if a ritual took place. As for the stone shelter itself, the structure which Astaka had his Nagas built had been singularly destroyed, shattered as if by a mighty blow from a creature no less potent than Astaka himself. "A thunder… dragon?" Yuzana allowed a clump of blasted soil to pass her fingers, noting that the silica had fused into glass. Concurrently, the unique presence of the dragon-kind, mockingly known as the "stink", was unmistakable. "A scion of the Yinglong." Astaka tasted the air, each of his massive heads snapping at invisible particles, catching the scent of his enemy. "Yuzana, more and more, I feel Me Nu wants war." Kitty descended, knowing that her destination neared, feeling the conclusion of her compelled quest in the thrum of magic confounding the chemistry of her brain. Exhausted, she hovered over an upper saddle near the peak of Mount Saramati, observing the sheer drop on one side looking down toward low land Burma, while the opposite sloped back, descending into Nagaland. She then landed with Mayuree in tow, surrounded by a group of human Mages, two with the dark indigenous skin of the mountain folk, and three with fairer complexions, all wearing the nationalist Burmese garb of a shawl and lungi. There was one other observer, half-naked, a demi-human serpent-folk, who watched from the side. With a wave of her hand, she dispelled the cocoon capturing Mayuree, sending her friend tumbling onto the grass. Then she knelt and was still. Maymyint's Mind Magic faded. Her senses returned. She was free. She opened her eyes like a new-born babe. Having regained her faculties, Kitty realised she recognised the woman who now approached, for she was the number one enemy of Yangon, second only to her father. "I am Aung San Yuzana," the woman intoned. "I see you have brought the offering." "I—" Kitty paused, her tongue suddenly caught in a snare. The offering? Slowly, she turned to regard Mayuree. Her friend was unconscious, preserved by magic. "Naga got your tongue, girl?" Yuzana prodded Kitty's kneeling body with her foot. "You're not a part of the tithing. You may go." Kitty's eyes widened in horror. "No, I- I can't..." she mumbled. "Oh? Are you going to join us?" "No! What?" Her mind struggled to catch up. "What indeed." Yuzana's expression took on the bearing of a steel mask. When she spoke, her voice was full of command. "Tell me, child, is the House of M now in league with the heavenly dragons? Have Me Nu sold us out to the Chinese, or the British, or worse yet, to the dragons of the middle country?" Kitty backed away, shuffling until she rested against Mayuree's rime-covered form. Her mana was low, but she had potions. Two periodic injections ought to get her home. "What do you know of that?" Yuzana pointed to her right. Kitty followed her fingers until she saw half-a-dozen bodies, mangled and desecrated, preserved by magic for burial. "I don't know." "You don't know very much, do you? Do you think I don't know who you are or who you serve? Go from here, and tell Maymyint we shall require another shipment if they wish to preserve the peace. Whatever she had planned, it will not succeed so long as our Lord rules Nagaland." Instead of answering, Kitty reached down and wrapped an arm against Mayuree's hypothermic figure. If she could somehow get away, maybe there could be salvation yet. "Are you daft, girl?" Yuzana jeered. "What are you—" "FREEZING FOG!" Without a word, having no plan beyond the immediacy of now, Kitty activated a spell she had held at the tip of her tongue, one that exercised little harm, but which offered her a chance to use her supernatural agility. From around her body and the space surrounding her Astral Form, a torrent of icy particles, enhanced by the additional of Elemental Air, burst where she stood, obfuscating all vision while simultaneously slowing her enemies. With a careful tug, Kitty drew Mayuree into a princess-carry, then made an upward Jump into the air. If she could clear a certain height, she was sure that no Mage present could catch up to her, at least until Mayuree could be injected with a Restoration Potion and the two of them could work out a better strategy. "DOWN! Dog of Me Nu!" The voice that burst from overhead possessed the mass of seven behemoths clamouring at once. "Shield!" All Kitty could do was cradle Mayuree in her arms while she manifested an Ice Shield, retracting her arms and legs to protect her friend's head and neck. _WHAM!_ The air in Kitty's lungs compressed at once, cracking her ribs as her barrier shattered, driving her into the rocky ground with a terrific velocity that exceeded her initial ascent. Her legs struck the floor first, her thighs cushioning her precious package as both knees cracked against the granite rock bed. With a grunt of supreme effort, she rolled to disperse her momentum, feeling her skin scrap as the cold stone violently kissed the left side of her face. For a split-second, Kitty thought she had stood back up, for such was the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins, but when she opened her surviving eye, she found herself sprawled out on the floor with Mayuree lying over her. Before the agony struck, she ran a mote of Ice through her body, dulling all sensation. Move! She commanded her rebellious limbs. Move! Damn you! Mia! "Grrrghk… Miaaaa…" was the sound that issued from her lips, even dulled, the pain was everywhere. Something loomed overhead, eclipsing the sun. Seven heads, each the size of automobiles, tasted her broken body. Where did the Naga come from? How had she missed such a being? _Mayuree!_ She returned her mind to the only thing that mattered, only to see Aung San Yuzana's men pulling the Diviner from her. "I still have questions for this one," a voice resounded from each of the cobra heads, indicating Mayuree. "But before we begin, I could use a light snack." Kitty's one remaining eye stared toward the heavens. Her tormentor laughed. But the Naga's semi-conscious victim was no longer trembling at its impressive maws. Neither the Tyrant's flickering forked-tongues nor the fangs that would soon sink into her torso bothered her, for Kitty's cyclopean vision caught something just behind the Naga, first, a spell flare, then a familiar Kirin silhouette. Suddenly, the Tyrant reared its head as to snap at something in the air. A bolt of cobalt zinged past the space between the Naga's open mouth, curving around the massive girth of its serpentine body, then blossomed into a semi-sphere of brilliant viridescent energy enveloping the entirety of the outpost, expanding until it reached a dozen meters in diameter. A portion of it caught the Tyrant, sizzling the creature's skin with its plasmic discharge. The rest of the blast enveloped Aung San Yuzana and her Mages, taking the unsuspecting casters off their feet, leaving an untouched Mayuree to tumble violently against the blasted stones of the plateau. "Yuzana!" With a twist of its body, the Tyrant arched with unearthly haste and swallowed Aung San's daughter. A split-second later, the second stage of Elemental Sphere erupted, ringing out in a massive nova twenty-meters wide, slicing across the outpost, destroying all that remained, disintegrating the bodies of the fallen, fusing sand to stone and wiping four of Yuzana's Mages from the face of Nagaland. _Crack!_ Almost simultaneously, a blast of lightning landed beside Mayuree, revealing a giantess in a bible-black combat-suit, cascading lightning and venting electricity as she scooped up the Diviner's rigid body and hoisted her across one shoulder. "Gwen…" Kitty choked, her meek lungs incapable of generating a louder sound. The spell had just caressed Kitty's body. Hope soared. If it was Gwen, maybe she could save them both. "Hello…" Her Vice Captain took a half-second to catch her breath before she dematerialised in the next, leaving only her last words for Kitty. "… and good luck with your Contingency Ring."

Sagol Kangba, Chief of the Salai Leishangthem, Vairagi and Grandmaster of the Shadowmen of Manipur, watched his men and women as they carried out their meticulous work. His Shadowmen numbered only a hundred, but Sagol's confidence was absolute. Since the fall of the Imperialists, it was the Shadowmen who had defended the Meitei people against the Burmans, the Hindus, the Muslims, the Chinese and the demi-humans. His troops made an inferior standing army, but they made excellent scouts, spies, assassins and saboteurs. Each of his warrior ascetics was trained from birth, hand-picked from talented children. His troops could stalk like cats, scale walls like geckos, slither like snakes through the smallest windows and infiltrate even monstrous lairs. Thanks to the Tyrant's absence and a freshly failed sortie, the remaining Mages were to the Shadowmen as bleating goats brought to the butcher. At dusk, the screaming ceased. Sagol Kangba praised Deva and Asura alike as a dozen of his men, gore-strewn and breathing heavily, parted the ivory gates with the delicacy of a blushing bride on her wedding night. One by one, his remaining disciples returned. With a little melancholy, he counted seven and sixty. The last to arrive was Sagol's best, the son of his previous employer. With Marong's return, the sovereignty of Sagol's homeland was now assured. His disciple had promised that he would personally see to Manipur's protection, though it wasn't in Marong that Sagol placed his faith. That belonged to their mutual patron. Unlike Miss Maymyint's secretive orders, Sagol Kangba had been present in Marong's meetings with their exalted client, having been spared no detail as to their lord's meticulous plan, so vast, so complex and yet so well composed that Sagol at once realised the futility of resisting the new master of Nagaland, Manipur and Kachin. It was almost ridiculous to think that he had laboured beside Me Nu for half a century without progress. "My Lord." Marong bowed. "The Pillar awaits your pleasure." "Marong, Sagol." Their lord's generosity was astounding. "Well done." Sagol Kangba inclined his turbaned head, imploring his master to proceed. Even in his human form, the majesty of the dragon was palpable, an existence beyond mortal reproach. "But before we divest the Tyrant of his power," his white-maned majesty chuckled as he inspected the men. "Let us wait, for in patience lies the root of a thousand virtues." Gwen chugged the Potion of Invisibility, hoping to hell the illicit concoction didn't have a use-by-date, for her present condition was as Richard would say, "up shit creek without a paddle." She wiped the milky residue from her lips. Thanks to her illicit potion, she could hover within teleportation range. Through Ariel's Link Sight, she saw the traitorous Kitty settke her cocoon before her captors, then knelt on one knee before offering Mia with the grace of a vacuum-packed Costco brisket. Fighting an impulse for immediate retribution, she layered her eyes with Detect Magic. The Divination staple lacked utility while out of range, but at least she could gauge her enemy's capabilities. With a quick scan, her eyes swept the plateau. The leader was a woman, and from her palpable aura, Gwen detected a mote of Radiance. Shit, she exhaled with great care. No matter how inferior regular Radiant Mages were compared to Gunther, they made incredible disruptors. As for the others, they were Senior Mages at best, likely the woman's supporting casters. Near the ruin was a serpent-folk, one with an outlandish mana signature. While Mages like Gwen and her enemies below displaced the Astral winds: here was a bloke whose aura formed a proverbial whirlpool. Considering the context, it didn't challenge the imagination to say that that this would be her Naga encounter. _Very well,_ she told herself. Her present obstacle involved five rebel Mages and a giant-ass Naga beyond her abilities. Quickly, she ran over the potential scenarios. Firstly, Nagas were terrestrial creatures. Whatever this Naga could be, it wasn't Golos, who could eat, piss and shit while corkscrewing at Mach 1. Secondly, if she alternated between Void and Lightning Dimension Doors, even with a passenger drastically reducing efficiency, she should be able to make it at least twenty to forty kilometres before she had to switch to flight. Thirdly, an alpha-strike should— _VOOMP_! An expansive burst of liquid nitrogen ruptured across the plateau. It was a spell Kitty had previously demonstrated, Freezing Fog. Simultaneously, the serpent folk changed into its Naga form. _What?_ Gwen gave a start— then quickly banished any seeds of doubt before they could germinate. Mayuree had prophesied that she would save her life, and that time was now. _Ariel!_ She called on her invisible Familiar. _On my mark, unleash hell!_ Astaka, whose name signified the Eight-fold Path of perception, resolve, speech, conduct, livelihood, effort, and mindful union, was not true to his name; instead, he was proud, lustful, greedy, resentful, wanton, impulsive, wrathful and very powerful. For a Naga, the formative years began with cannibalising one's brood, hunting down Magic Creatures, consuming rare flora and finally progressing toward hoarding precious materials. For Astaka, it was only after gaining his sentience in the second century that he inherited the wisdom his forebearers had left, and even then it took decades of instruction by Aung San and Yuzana to temper his baser impulses. Eventually, given enough time, Astaka would reach Enlightenment, slowly shedding his physical form to meld with the land, becoming a higher being. Presently, Astaka was very upset. Bound by earthly desire, he could only bow to the alchemical tyranny of testosterone, adrenaline and blood. He felt a wild desire to destroy anything and everything, wanting nothing more than to crush the female figures even now half-a-kilometre away under his scaled belly. But first, Astaka took stock. Yuzana, his mentor and ally, was in his gullet. While under his guard, he would use the power of the Pillar to heal her. Her kin, the men and women who came with her, were dead. As dead as the men and women of their commune who had guarded the outpost, killed by thunder and lightning. His tongues flickered. THAT STINK! How could he not recognise it? Was their ambusher a daughter of the Yinglong? Was she betting that he would take her sire's invasion with a grin? "Thran!" his heads barked, invoking powers granted by the Jade Pillar, commanding the air itself to bestow the power of flight. Though he knew Yuzana would advise against it, he was a dragon, and his dignity, nay, his DIVINITY; could not allow such insults to go unpunished. "SCION OF YINGLONG! I COME FOR THEE—" "CHAINS OF ICE!" Before Astaka could clear the ledge, a sudden tug from behind sent him careening into the cliff-face. It took Kitty several more seconds to realise that indeed, she had been abandoned. If so, then she was out of luck. She had never told Gwen that her teleport was a slave to Mayuree's master. Until Mia's ring triggered, hers would remain inert. That had been their relationship in the House of M. What she and Mayuree shared wasn't the same as what Gwen shared with Mayuree. That was why she had hated the Lightning sorceress, for being Mayuree's equal, something Kitty could only mime. _Good luck with your Contingency Ring!_ Kitty felt a sudden urge to cry, to curse, to laugh. But Mia had been saved! She comforted herself. Gwen had slain all the Mages present, and even now she was kilometres away. The prophecy came true; Gwen rescued Mia. Everything had been ordained from the beginning. Though her legs lost all feeling, Kitty touched a hand to her face. If you're so happy that Mayuree was no longer in danger, then why are you crying? She mocked herself. Are these tears of joy? "Thran!" A bark from the Tyrant shook her from her self-pity. Kitty craned her neck, bearing witness to the absurd sight of a Naga the size of a pleasure-barge lift into the air. _No!_ Her mind rioted. _Wasn't Mayuree's safe? How could the Tyrant fly?_ Nagas were terrestrial creatures! Did that mean that even if she had escaped with Mayuree, her act would have been futile? If so, why had she even tried? What did her suffering mean? A dreadful sense of oppression suffused her beaten body. For what reason was she made Mayuree's companion all these years ago? Was it for this? For delivering her friend to her death? The western Gods are cruel, or so she was told, but the eastern divinities appeared no less sadistic. "SCION OF YINGLONG! I COME FOR THEE—" At the Naga's battle cry, a sudden clarity suffused her feverish mind. Perhaps there was still a way to save Mia after all. If she were to die, her final act could not be one of futility. "CHAINS OF ICE!" What remained of her mana drained from her body, creating six chains tethering her opponent's tail to the granite below. With a comical lurch, the Naga crashed into a nearby cliff face, making Kitty laugh out loud. "You'll never catch them," she shouted at the bloated beast. "Vermin, I had forgotten about you." The Naga recovered, then with an effortless sweep of its tail, it tore the icy chains from the rock, stone and all. She could tell its anger was magnified now. There was a rainbow sheen running up and down its flaring cobra hoods. For some reason, Kitty recalled a story Mayuree had told her about a monk who gave himself to a starving Naga so that the creature would not eat its brood. "You won't have her." She did her best to spit at the creature. "Mayuree is not for thee." A moment of silence passed between them, a moment Kitty hoped would last for all of eternity. "You have gifted me a wonderful idea," the Tyrant's voice boomed, its eyes growing cruel and cold as it opened its maw. "You shall be the witness to your allies' suffering..." An arm-thick fang penetrated her chest, filling her body with molten lead, paralysing every nerve. Even in the darkness, she could hear it speak. "...and believe me, they shall _suffer_ for a very long time." After two kilometres of Dimension Doors in the dim dusk, Gwen took a break to reorientate herself. While adjusting her human cargo, she had injected Mayuree with a Potion of Restoration, defrosting her friend and returning the Diviner to a semblance of consciousness. If she was going to be teleporting blindly through the woods in the dark, having a working Diviner was going to be a godsend. "SCION OF YINGLONG I COME FOR THEE—" From the mountain, the Naga's almighty battle cry suddenly cut out, as though a cat had arrested all seven of its tongues. "Mia! Are you awake?" Gwen gave Mayuree a playful slap, wondering if the Tyrant had changed its mind. With a shudder, Mayuree opened her mouth, then was sick over Gwen's shoulder. "Wha- G-Gwen? GWEN?! Where are we? Where's Kitty?" "She's with her friends back on the plateau." Gwen made a quick teleport to the next clearing. "Considering what she did, I was very charitable." "No! Maymyint glamoured her!" Mayuree's words exploded like a thunderclap beside her ear. "I saw it in Indaw, a spell activated, then Kitty started acting crazy!" Gwen faltered, first her step, then her incantation, then she stumbled again from the nauseating feedback. _Kitty, glamoured?_ "A-Are you certain?" Her scalp crawled, her skin broke out with a terrific slick. If Mayuree was right, then she had just made a terrible mistake. "The proctors never detected—" "Gwen, Shield! NOW!" She obliged. _WHAM!_ Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. _Crack!_ A chunk of granite weighing at least half a ton skidded off her double-glazed barrier, driving her bodily into the soft earth before ricocheting into a Banyan tree, shattering the ancient wood. Two seconds later, a cascade of magma immolated the treetops. The girls looked up. From the sky, a floating Naga expelled bolts of elemental energy, mostly earthen, but also that of malformed rock, molten metal, blue-white fire, and even the occasional deluge of acid from its serpentine heads. _OH FUCK! IT FLIES!_ She gulped the burning air, then Dimension Doored twice in quick succession. _BOOM!_ An eruption of heat blossomed close enough for her to shield up for the second time. When the debris settled, the distinct Dragon Fear of the Naga pressed in from above. A part of her entertained the possibility of a fight, but with Mayuree on her back, a slugfest was impossible. Alternatively, she could try to activate Mayuree's Contingency Ring, but that would send her Diviner right back to Minty, likewise raising the question of whether Mayuree's ring would work at all. "Scion!" The Naga's chorus was loud enough to give her a headache. "Come and face Astaka, Master of Nagaland!" Gwen rolled her eyes at the Naga's feeble offer of parley. Wait- she blinked. Scion? Scion of the Yinglong? Did he mean her? Does the Naga think he's fighting another dragon? "I am a mortal Mage! I seek no quarrel with you! I wish only to return with my friend!" She broadcasted through her Clarion Call, continuing her zig-zag teleportation. "Mia, Scry ahead and plot me a path! Is Kitty's Contingency Ring linked to Yangon, Chengdu or Shanghai?" Mayuree's arms suddenly tightened. "Her ring won't activate!" Mayuree's speech pieced her brain like a sliver of Kitty's ice. "It's slaved to mine! It'll only activate after mine does!" "Y-You're shitting me!" Gwen spat. "Why was I never told? What kind of fucking ring is that?" "That's how it has always been," came the choked reply. "Kitty's not allowed a normal one." "FUCK!" Gwen swore, narrowing avoiding a branch. "FUCKING HOUSE OF M! GODDAMN BASTARDS!" She could feel Mayuree tremble, but she hadn't intended to blame her friend. She knew who to blame. "As soon as you're safe, I'll go back for Kitty!" Gwen promised, feeling Gunther's band weighing down her ring finger. _Blood will have blood,_ she thought of that aphorism from Macbeth. _Is this what they mean by you live long enough, and you'll become the villain?_ Maymyint had used Mayuree as bait, and she had left Kitty as bait, and now she was going to be Naga bait. "Which way?" She refocused on the task at hand. "Mia, I don't know what's happened to Kitty, and I can't fight with you here, so I am going to send you away with Ariel." "No!" Mayuree tightened her grip. "I won't leave you. I'll activate my Ring, maybe..." "Too risky!" Gwen hissed. "Listen! Do you want to save Kitty or not? Can you Scry the mountain top?" Mayuree's voice choked. "We're outside my range. I just tried Messaging her as well. The spell isn't pinging!" "FUCK!" Gwen's heart sunk. "What does that mean? Is she..." "I don't know! Kitty could be unconscious!" "You dare flee?!" the Tyrant's voice pounded the valley. "VATAKA!" Draconic Essence flooded the vicinity. Mayuree's tiny body seized up at once, seizing even her choking sobs. "BUZZ OFF WITH THE GOBBLEDYGOOK!" Gwen hollered back, feeling a hidden heat compressing her brain as Almudj's will pushed back against the invasive command. "Dimension Door!" "VATAKA! VATAKA!" the Tyrant's response was more rage, more anger, more disbelief. "You lie! No mere mortal can resist our will!" "SHUT UP!" came Gwen's verbal riposte from the wending woods. "GO FUCK YOURSELF." The next barrage grew in intensity and radius. "Thaczil, tyrtrol ve!" She had no idea what the creature was incanting, nor did she care. With enough Dimension Doors, she maybe could circle back. "Oof-!" In between her spells, something snagged her foot, coiling around her ankles and digging into the leather of her boots. Her forward momentum, compounded with that of Mayuree unbalancing her from behind, sent her face first into the forest floor. "ARRGH!" An indescribable line of agony travelled up her leg. "Gwen!" Mayuree headbutted her Vice Captain's iron-hard skull. Gwen felt it before she saw it. A thorn-studded vine had snagged her left leg, and where it had coiled against her combat boots, hooked spikes now strangled her calve. Thankfully, at least for her, poisons weren't a problem. "Void Bolt!" A quick spell was enough to sever the vine and prevent it from regenerating. When she limped on, she noted that the landscape had taken on a conscious hostility. Her first instinct was to Void Skin, but she had Mayuree strapped to her. "I am sensing hostiles everywhere." Mayuree huffed, bleeding from a cut above her eye. "Gwen, leave me!" "That's the plan! Dimension Door!" Gwen made a snap decision to teleport upwards, above the treeline, she could once again combine Flight with short teleports. "Ariel!" Her Kirin reappeared just as she stabilised her flight, limping even in mid-air. A few hundred meters away, floated the Battleship Agro-Asta-Fuck, barreling toward her like a natural disaster. She wanted to conjure up another Barbanginy, possibly a twin-strike, but knew whatever Essence she had in reserve was best used to keep up her health. It didn't take a genius to know that if Almudj's blessing dried up, the slightest injury was going to bring the pain. With a click, she unstrapped Mayuree, then against all protest, bundled her against Ariel, simultaneously slipping the vial from Richard into Mayuree's potion pouch. "Gwen, don't!" Mayuree kicked and squirmed. "Let me fight! I'll use my items! I'll distract the Tyrant!" "Ariel!" Gwen ignored her. Instead, she charged up her next attack. "Wait for the signal. Take Mia back to Richard!" "EE EE!" Behind the duo, their assailant was pleased that he had flushed the pheasants from the bush. "Deceiver! Your demise shall be slow and agonising!" The Naga slithered toward her; its seven tongues tasting the air as though slathering her skin. Gwen meanwhile, collated as much potential energy as she could into a spell that had served her well in many an occasion. "Eat this, arsehole! FLASHBANG!" _BUNG_! "Hissss!" The Naga recoiled, its hypersensitive organs flaring white-hot. "Dishonourable hag!" Following Gwen's behest, Ariel decamped eastward, invisible but for the small girl on its back. _Psssht!_ Gwen meanwhile, took the advantage offered by the Naga's momentary blindness to airdrop Caliban into the undergrowth before stabbing herself with a healing injector. _Cali!_ She mentally commanded her beast to Consume at will. If the bloody Naga thought he could turn the vegetation against her, then she would show him the meaning of deforestation. Below, the forest came alive with roving foliage. Behind, Mayuree was already a speck upon a speck. "Void Skin! Chakram! Chakram!" Gwen retooled her defence against untoward ambushes, then sent her discs against the Tyrant. With a sound of cutting silk, both of her meat-slicers scored palpable hits, drawing dark blood where semi-chromatic scales had been consumed. _Woa!_ She marvelled at the potency of her new spell, realising at once that the Tyrant wasn't like Golos. The wyvern was a tough customer because it had been clad in Lightning. Comparatively, this Astaka was an earthen Naga. "Shaaa!" Caliban was making a feast of what little life animated trees provided. "YOU!" The Naga was suddenly in an uproar. "You're the one!" "I am flattered." Gwen worked her restored ankle before engaging yet another Dimension Door. She looked for a way around. Maybe she could teleport right through the bastard. "I don't date snakes, too clingy." To her surprise, the Naga's riposte was to regurgitate something from one of its heads. "Bleurgh!" It was a woman. _What. The. Fuck._ Her mind struggled with the spectacle. Was this Astaka's Simulacrum? The disturbance was akin to Caliban's culinary adventures, only in reverse. "How dare you hurt Astaka!" When the woman further began to speak, she had to realign her knowledge of reality. Though slime slathered, the being was alive and kicking. Not only that, she recognised her as the leader of the rebel Mages on the plateau. What did that mean? Gwen's eyes widened. She had thought the woman perished. "Radiant..." _OH FU—_ her mind caught up. She blinked. "...Blast!" _TSSSS!_ The spell struck before she had time to react. Her Void Skin broiled with the sound of a searing steak, sending an eye-rolling rush of agony into her brain. The blast had resembled a shotgun of light particles, catching her from chin to chest. "Radiant Bolt!" A circular imprint glowed red-hot on her shoulder, weaker than the first, but still painful. "Flashbang!" Gwen retorted with a distraction. She had to buy herself time. __ _TSSSS!_ _BUNG!_ _FUCK!_ Unbridled tears gushed from her eyes. She recalled training with Gunther, thankful that the most Radiant evokers lacked her brother-in-law's ability to mimic the Death Star. In a one-on-one duel, she could tank every attack until she could overwhelm her opponent, but now she was alone and facing off a Naga. Concurrently, Ariel was half-a-kilometre away with Mayuree, and Caliban was collecting vitality from below. Moreover, she couldn't concentrate on higher spells if she got branded every few seconds. "Yuzana! She ate Virana!" the Naga chorused. "I need to consume her to recover Virana's Essence!" "As you wish, my lord." The woman recovered quicker than Gwen had anticipated. "Scorching Radiance!" Gwen rapidly descended, pre-shielding with a double-serving of Void in a semi-dome, flying in a direction perpendicular to Ariel's trajectory. The problem was that she had effectively blocked her line-of-sight, leaving her to retreat blindly. _Tssss!_ _THUNK!_ A half-dozen beams of radiant fire ate away at her shield, followed by conjured stones from the Naga. Allowing the momentum of the boulders to accelerate her fall, she quickly erected a second shield. Below, Caliban reported that there was little vitality to be had in these moving trees and walking shrubs, an unwelcome reality furthermore complicating her dilemma. "Dimension Door!" She disappeared and reappeared. "Radiant Bolt!" As expected, Yuzana gave chase, though thankfully the forest provided cover while her Void Skin diffused the threat of molesting tendrils and tripping vines. "Radiant Bolt!" A Banyan burst spontaneously combusted. "Radiant Blast!" "Void Bolt!" Her Void consumed itself before she could reach the enemy Mage. As had been proven by Gunther, Radiance was a bad matchup for Void, or at least the Evocation variation. As before, a burst of eye-searing brillance struck her paper-thin armour, causing such a distraction that she almost ran headfirst into a tree. _WHAM!_ _Whoomp!_ A volley of stones crashed to her left. A fall of fire ignited to her right. "!" _They were herding her!_ Gwen's Sigil tingled. She had to do something and do it quick. Could she ambush the Radiant Mage with Caliban? She could, but first, she had to disable the woman. Taking advantage of her superior agility, she dodged from roving tree to grasping vine, even so, the wayward mote of Radiance scalded her skin and drained her vitality. Were it not for her draconic-constitution and her Void element, she would be nearing medium-rare. "Shaaa!" Watching Caliban's casual slaughter of animated lumber, a spell came to mind. An invocation she had never wanted to use against another human being. "Radiant Strike!" _Tsss!_ Her back sizzled. Some of her armour flaked off even as an odour of skinsuit and sautéed flesh suffused her nostrils. All compassion evaporated from her mind. "Caliban! To me!" she called out. There was plenty of life left in her Familiar. Were she and Yuzana vis-a-vis, she could Consume the bitch, but she couldn't afford the incapacitation, not with the Naga panting like a seven-headed Cerberus over a juicy bone. A split-second later, a hasted Caliban bodily retrieved her, deposited her on its back, then began to skitter through the forest, shredding through the twisting branches and thorns that sought to impede the duo. "Radiant Bolt!" A mass of tentacles from Caliban's underbelly served as a temporary barrier, leaving behind a trail of smoking sinew and writhing tissue. The last syllable of the horrid spell lapped at Gwen's lips. "Die!" Yuzana descended, buzzing like a Giant Hornet. She swooped closer toward where Gwen and her minion leapt from tree to tree, skittering high and low and in between before letting loose a wide-area AoE in an attempt to catch the two. "Sundering Sun!" From a pinpoint just ahead of Gwen, the forest grew as bright as day. "Cloud Kill!" A black haze a full twenty-meters in diameter formed near-instantaneously into a semi-dome, smothering the air with particles of corrosive Void-matter, each alive with the insatiable appetite of the Quasi-Elemental Plane of endless hunger. "ARRRGH!" The Radiant Mage flew face first into the darkness. "ARR—" Yuzana's scream suddenly cut short. Her spell ceased. Ten-thousand little pin-holes appeared over the woman's face and clothes, pock-marking every inch of her body. She suddenly fell forward, choking and hacking like a hag as she rag-dolled onto the sodden, Void-smothered vegetation. "Yuzana!" The great Naga descended, once again attempting to save its companion by swallowing her into the safety of its gullet. "Shoe's on the other foot, fucker!" Gwen halted Caliban, for the opportunity wouldn't last. The Radiant Mage must die, else she would never get back to Kitty. "Cali!" Caliban leapt forward, metamorphosing into its Horror Stag form. "Void Seeker!" A whispering disc paralleled Caliban's charge while her Familiar's stiletto legs churned the dark earth, lowering its sixteen-prong tentacle horns for entry into the Mage's delicious body. With a corrosive hiss of disintegrating scales and skin, the Naga displaced the boundaries of her Cloud Kill just as Gwen herself made an acrobatic Jump from Caliban's back to avoid her Negative Energy cloud. Her mind gauged the distance to clear the Tyrant in a single Dimension Door. While it busied itself with the Radiant Mage, she could teleport back to their Ice Mage. If all else were lost, she would bring back Kitty's body, in front of which she would offer Maymyint's head. "Blueeargh!" The Tyrant regurgitated yet again, a scene that made Gwen despair. The mucus that came from its jaws slathered the Radiant Mage, negating the permeation of her Void-matter. Her Seeker closed-in. She called up another attack. "Chak—" Kitty came sliding out from the snake's gullet, falling headlong into her Cloud Kill and directly into the path of her Seeker. Gwen's Chakram caught in her throat. Her spell backfired, flooding her Astral Body with a paralytic surge of violent, void-tinged mana. _CANCEL!_ She shrieked internally even as her organs revolted from the backlash. As Caliban slid to one side, she caught sight of Mayuree's partner kissing the obsidian mass, a second before she could dispell its effect. _NO!_ Her limbs seized. _How could this happen?!_ "She's DEAD!" came such a cry of anguish that Gwen's heart skipped a beat. For a second, she had thought herself the source of that unhappy eruption of grief. "YOU! HOW DARE YOU!" The Naga took the words right out of her mouth. Towering over Gwen's nauseated body, Astaka reared on its impressive abdomen, all seven cobra-hoods flared, shivering with rage. There was a thrum of mana from the ground below; then its serpentine torso shuddered. With a grotesque crackle of crunching bone and peeling scales, an eighth head exploded from Astaka's shoulder-blades, completing its namesake. While she reeled, first from her mana burn and then from the spine-numbing Dragon-Fear pouring from her assailant, the Naga swept its heads down and across with the likeness of a man swinging a set of snake-tipped cat-o-nines. As its brutal body made the one-eighty necessary to complete the motion, uprooting trees and dashing boulders the size of sedans, it caught Caliban as the Familiar circled back to shield its master, first crushing it against one head, then against another, then against the ground, clubbing her beast until its shape was barely recognisable. "Shield!" Gwen poured every ounce of summonable effort into her barrier. The first blow was comparable to Golos when he had ambushed her. The next shattered her double-barrier like fragile glass, and the third conformed her body to the shape of its cobra-snout. _GUNTHER! I AM SORRY!_ She clenched her fist, circulating Essence like mad. She had fought off the Radiant Mage, but she had forgotten Alesia's advice. Never duke a Mythic in melee range. No matter how powerful a Mage might be, a blow from a millennia-old creature the size of a building wasn't anything human magic could withstand, because why the fuck else would they build Towers? Without the need for magic, she flew through the air. Her world slowed. Briefly, Gwen's superior kinetic vision caught a familiar silhouette. Her Deus Ex Machina had arrived. "YOU IDIOT!" The fulminating howl of frustration followed the spectacle of an enormous, bone-white Wyvern tackling the Tyrant head-on. "You're the FOOL!" the Tyrant returned Golos' insult, which had been directed at Gwen. "Dishonorable rascals of the Yinglong! I KNEW YOU WOULD COME!" Her world sped up, and Gwen's trajectory continued. Instead of receiving the aid she had anticipated, she struck the forest floor, bounced from the foliage, then slammed into a tree trunk, felt her ligaments tear, then crash-landed against the root of a Banyan tree. She must have blacked out for a second because her Void Skin had deactivated and at least a dozen gashes had appeared where there had been none. When she tried to move, an unbearable agony travelled up her right arm, indicating a revolt of bone and flesh. "Ow—" She gasped for breath. Just as she wondered if her incredulous appetite for assault and battery was boon or bane, creeping vines descending from the Banyan hoisted her into the air like a leg of ham. There was a strange clattering of teeth just beside her ear. "ARRGH! GOLOS!" Gwen screamed as barbs began to sprout, digging into her tender flesh. There was no doubt that Golos was as mighty as it was dim. Busy fighting the Naga, the wyvern craned its neck to fire off a jet of blue-white plasma toward where she hung. _Gunther!_ Gwen closed her eyes. _I'll pay you back!_ "SHAAA!" came the cry of a blighted angel. Caliban caught its master before she could be sent back to Shanghai, having restored its stag-form in the intervening seconds between the Naga's sweep-attack and Golos' intervention. When the teeth-covered trees once again reached for the master-creature duo, Caliban activated its all-consuming tentacles. "Father's whiskers, this bastard is strong!" A dozen meters away, Golos was proving to be the inferior of the two. "Help me, you idiot!" Where the Thunder Wyvern crackled with blue-white lightning, whipping at the Tyrant with its spiked-club tail, the Naga could not give two shits. Comparatively, it possessed eight vectors of attack, a far larger body, and superior elemental resistance. "GARR!" Golos howled, pierced by multiple fangs. The Wyvern's associate was frantically searching for her Controller. What had been a virgin forest was now a disaster zone. Where her Cloud Kill had been, nothing living remained bar for the titanic struggle between Golos-zilla and knock-off Ghidorah. Gwen felt her mind grow numb. "CALAMITY! HELP ME!" How was she going to explain this to Mayuree? "DO SOMETHING!" Did she kill Kitty? Or was Kitty already dead? She looked up. Her first thought was to flee. She was rightly fucked up, and the Naga was too strong. If she left Golos to battle the Naga for the next fifteen minutes, she was sure to get away. "GWEN!" But the damned wyvern had come to save her, had it not? Golos was no Kitty, but how could she leave another ally to die?

Wincing, Gwen injected herself with a second Healing Potion while simultaneously drinking an Elixir of Restoration, burning past her alchemical limit for the day. With an unbearable itch, her wounds healed and her arm popped back into place, though as for full mobility, that would take dedicated physiotherapy. "Golos, hold on!" she hollered back. "Keep up your lightning!" "AARRGH!" Golos hooted like a madcap baboon as it lost another chunk of armour. "Caliban, keep me covered!" "SHAAA!" "First this one, then you!" the Tyrant bellowed, punctuating its threat by puncturing Golos's rump. "Have patience!" "Dimension Door!" Gwen appeared behind their enemy, just out of reach of the Naga's heads. Caliban stood directly in front, ready to serve as her meat shield or to take its master away from danger. "KEEP IT PINNED!" "RAWAAAR!" Golos exploded, flaying scales from the Tyrant's neck and back, beating at the Naga with its wings and its tail, raining scales and dark blood. Gwen forced herself to calm. She recalled Walken's story of Sobel's spell in Sydney. For all her feelings of vitriol, there was no denying that the bitch's mastery of the Void was second to none. According to Walken, Sobel's elemental swarm had been the most horrific and practical demonstration of the Void's consumptive abilities he had ever seen. If so, she had an inkling of what she had to do. Sensing imminent danger, the Tyrant pushed back. With a supreme grunt of supernatural effort, Golos pressed forward, pounding the earth with his massive thighs, taking several envenomed strikes to the neck, back and torso as he attempted to immobilise the Naga. "VOID SWARM!" Gwen finished her Conjure Elemental with a single breath. Her shadow distended. The space around her shimmered, then began to tear as her incantation invited Caliban's fellow-fiends from the otherworldly expanse of the Quasi-Elemental Plane of the Void. The first time she had used the spell, it was in the presence of her Uncle, against the herd of unsuspecting deer. She had been hungry then, far weaker, less practised, green as a sapling. Now, she'll plague them all, even to roaring! From one lamprey came two, from two came three, and from three came a midnight tide of screeching, crawling, sucking things without noses nor lips, only teeth, pouring toward the sole source of concentrated vitality not clad in lightning. Caliban exalted in the display, barking sing-song repetitions of "Shaa!" and "Shaa!" as its tentacles writhed, bathing in the caress of its numberless siblings. Beware! Beware! Gwen felt as though the Abyssinian maid in Coleridge's epic, strumming her dulcimer of arcanistry as she invited the thousand young from the wending woods where the stars glimmer darkly. With all her vitality thus committed, she would eat the fucker like air! "Father's whiskers!" Golos sucked in a breath of fetid air, heeding Gwen's advice in cladding his scales within a sheath of electricity. "Asura!" the Tyrant bellowed, attempting to untangle itself from Golos. "USURPER!" The carrion swarm of darkling lampreys reached Astaka's thrashing body; then as one, the hive latched on like a tide breaking over the entangled statue of a Wyvern and Naga amid a titanic struggle. One by one, the lampreys latched on; with each mote they stole from Astaka, the leech-like abominations bloated and swelled, growing to twice, thrice their usual size! Even when Astaka rolled its brutal body, crushing Golos and leeches alike, smearing the ground with Void-tinged ichor, the creatures came on with the relentlessness of the Void's insatiable hunger. A trickle of renewed vitality entered into her body, hot against her abdomen, gorging her mortal vessel with the milk of paradise. Her breath caught in her throat, her limbs quivered. Without reserve, she fed these dangerous, mind-numbing motes back into the Conjuration Sigil, attaining an epiphanic realisation that this was how Sobel had maintained her magic. As one, her creatures reared their phallic, eyeless heads, then redoubled their efforts, slithering up the Naga's body with renewed vigour. "INSOLENCE!" For the second time, there was a groundswell of raw mana. As though a quickened toadstool after autumn's rain, the Naga grew yet again in size, doubling its girth. Like a child wrangled by an adult, the twenty-meter Golos fell backwards, shanked by fangs the length of broadswords. As a sixth head dipped, Caliban attacked, but with a violent snap, it cleaved Caliban's upper torso, head and all, from its stalwart lower body. _Pssshk!_ A small microburst of acidic venom hurled forth from the seventh head. "Shaa!" Spider-Caliban burst from the remains of the stag, expanding its torso to shield its master. "DIE!" The final head descended, shaking lamprey-leeches from its scales. The Tyrant's maw unhinged. No matter which direction Gwen or her creature fled, they would soon enter its gullet to be digested. Still channelling her thousand young, Gwen renewed her Void Skin, then performed a quick hypothesis in her head. Here was an opportunity. If the acid and the creature's internals proved impenetrable, then she would find herself back in Chengdu, or possibly Sydney. If she could survive long enough for Caliban to do its terrible work, then she would be one half-millennia Naga richer and Caliban may very well attain the gift of garb. "TONIGHT, I FEAST ON THE FLESH OF THE YINGLONG." She prepared her body for the worst. "NEVER!" To her chagrin, a Thunder Wyvern foiled her plans, placing itself between the Naga and herself. "Golos!" she screeched, but how could she complain? It wasn't as though Golos could read her masochistic mind and deduce that she wanted to skinny dip in acid. "Flee! You'll perish instantly!" Golos's rescue had arrived a little too late, meaning the Naga caught him by the neck before he could dodge the blow intended for Gwen. When the Tyrant's jaws snapped shut, it caught Golos right in the middle of his serpentine neck, crushing scale and bone alike. A look of strange elation overcame Golos' face as his wingtips grew limp. "That's t-three times—" Gwen felt an upwelling of emotion. Though Golos owed her, her chest nonetheless constricted. Staring at the skyscraper-sized Naga, she wondered if she could Dimension Door into the Tyrant's body, for the thing was now the length and girth of a blue-whale, so massive that her lampreys appeared as though aphids. What could she do to save Golos? Should she save Golos? Back when they first met, he had tried to maim her, hell, he even threatened to rape her. Then she had probed him with Caliban, but still- "Gurrrrk!" Golos gurgled, a spurt of blood rained over Gwen and her shrieking Caliban, sizzling her Void Skin. At once, her lampreys rejoiced. "Hahaha!" Astaka savoured the blood from Golos' throat. "Delicious!" _You should go._ A voice of reason called out to Gwen. _Kitty's dead, Mayuree's saved, what more was there to do?_ But her body refused to move. Was it because of her spell? No, the thousand young were doing their job; the Tyrant was beyond her lamprey's abilities, her theft of its Essence was a drop in the bucket against the ley of the landscape itself. If so, how could she hope to usurp the life of Kachin, Nagaland and all its flora and fauna? She may as well run a pump into the Bay of Bengal to stem the tide. "Be patient, insect. You're next," the Tyrant commanded her, and that's what she did, caught between spectacle and indecision, unable to leave her ally, neither wanting to flee nor knowing what else to do. _Walken would slap me,_ Gwen thought unpleasantly. Another head approached. The Naga was getting impatient. Her confidence crumbled. She was at her limit. Was Golos right? Could her worms eat this thing from inside out? Or would half of her instantly dissolve, sending not enough of her to Gunther to be revived? How much would an acid bath hurt? "!" Her useless Divination pinged. Could a Sigil be sarcastic? Her world grew dark. Then it suddenly grew white. Not the white that one would expect to see at the end of the tunnel. Nor the silvery-white flare of Conjuration from her Contingency Ring. It was instead the alabaster of ionised plasma, the retina-searing white of unadulterated power drawn from the Quasi-Elemental Plane of Lightning. "VHIRA, VILKLVI!" Came a fulmination of thundering bolts so turbulent that the ground shook, the heavens split, and the dusk turned to midday. "BROTHER!" Golos' jubilance was drowned out by the cacophonous discharge sundering their ophidian enemy. Above the duo, one of Astaka's offending appendages suddenly erupted, blazing blue and green from its eyeless sockets. A great trumpeting of agony erupted from a chorus of cobra-headed tubas. Fighting the revolt in her conduits and the dizziness assailing her trembling innards, she forced herself to focus. If she tarried any longer, she would be the first Mage to be sent out of the IIUC as a result of being sandwiched between a Naga and a hard place. "Never overextend." A belated piece of advice penetrated the noise. It wasn't silvery Conjuration that enveloped her, but a pair of arms with the stiffness of steel cables, cradling her waist, pulling her away from the Tyrant, wading through her mass of Void-spawns as effortlessly as a lightning-charged scalpel through bible-black butter. _Gunther?_ A déjà vu of Blackheath struck. _Or could it be Uncle Jun?_ This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. But she was wrong on both accounts. The man that had pulled her from certain teleportation was a being of paradoxical intimacy, a stranger she already knew. His presence, or the "Stink", as Marong would say, was all too familiar. She had inhaled it many times already, on her Uncle, on Ayxin, on Golos, from all the fauna she had consumed on the Yellow Mountain. It was the same Essence held captive within her mortal body. She craned her neck to regard the saviour of Gunther's Contingency Ring. A pair of soft eyes the colour of pale water met her halfway, half-covered by a head of shocking silver. "My prodigal niece." The dragon-kin had a baritone voice, deep like lowering tempest. "I had expected to meet you under better circumstances." _CRACK!_ A spear of vertical lightning pierced a second cobra-head, penetrating the offending ophidian mass from snout to neck, blowing out the back of the serpent's brain like a too-ripe melon. "HISSS!" Astaka reeled, suddenly afraid as any intelligent Naga would be when an enemy effortlessly disabled two of its eight heads. "Astaka, you're looking worse for wear." Ruxin's voice filled the clearing even as he cradled his niece with the earnest affection of a young man and his golden goose. "For offending our father, I've come for you and everything you own. So that you know, your palace has fallen, and the Pillar of Jade is mine as well." "YOU!" Astaka tossed Golos aside, folding the Wyvern's body into a groaning heap. "IT WAS YOU!" "Watch out!" Gwen pushed against her captor's arms, though she may as well be striking concrete. Ruxin took the hit head-on. A semi-sphere barrier protected Gwen and Ruxin from the assault, though it failed to dissipate the force of the blow. _KLANG!_ There was a sound of metal-on-metal, then the humanoid dragon was sent flying. Gwen's world twisted and turned while they spun, feeling as though trapped in the violent tumble of a drink driving commercial, only ending when Ruxin righted himself some fifty meters away. "That was embarrassing," the dragon apologised to the girl in his arms. "Are you alright?" "Can you let me down?" she demanded with the sourness of a tart. Though she was safe, her suffering was exquisite. Kitty was dead, and she had seized up like a deer. In the end, she couldn't drink danger as though it were the wine of life. She could not jest as a Naga swallowed her whole. She had called her own bluff and had found herself wanting. "Are you hale?" Ruxin's patience was perplexing. "I am." Gwen answered her self anointed "uncle", paying no heed to the dragon's semi-divine visage. For the foreseeable future, she was out of shits to give. "Good." Ruxin made two gestures. One toward Gwen, and one toward Golos. "Keep safe and keep away. I'll be along shortly." Before she could retort, there came yet another groundswell of mana, the very same that Astaka had employed twice over. Her stomach lurched. When she blinked again, she had been translocated into an untouched clearing, stranded beside Golos' broken body. Ruxin assumed his natural form. Had he not sent his niece away, she would have witnessed the awe-inspiring sight of a pure-blooded Thunder Dragon forty-meters from whisker to tail. She would have awed at his lion's maw and tiger's claws; gaped at his handsome head upon which sat a mane of vibrant feathers, marvelled at his stag horns, as majestic as they were potent. Twisting and turning, Ruxin caught each of the Tyrant's heads within the confines of his coiled length, paralysing his opponent with blue-green bolts of electrical discharge. "How!" The Naga thrashed, its body shrinking rapidly, deflating like a punctured balloon as the mana from the ley flowed from its body into his opponent's. "W-WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" With a swipe of a five-fingered claw, Ruxin crushed one of Astaka's heads against a tree, toppling both. "You still don't sense it?" the dragon appeared thoroughly amused. While Astaka diminished, his form seemed to grow not in size, but majesty. "You're no longer tethered to Nagaland, Astaka. I am your new lord and master." "Impossible!" "Oh, it's possible. Watch." A burst of raw mana suddenly infused Ruxin's twisting form, healing his wounds and suffusing him with the same energy that the Tyrant had abused earlier to overcharge Gwen's darkling swarm. "GARRGH—" With a sickening crunch, another of the Tyrant's heads burst. "Stop!" the Tyrant was in full panic now. The loss of each head afforded an experience of mortality in its purest form. "No more!" "A pitiful thing like you, stealing the essence of the land- how droll," Ruxin remarked. "You are far from ready to join the Vaeri di tobor vur marfedelom. I am beginning to doubt if it is even worthwhile making you my consort. Perhaps serving as my nourishment would be better." Each of Ruxin's claws now grasped the remaining four heads effortlessly. Though the Jade Pillar was far more suited to an earthen drake, the power of the land nonetheless flowed pure and unsullied from hitherto undespoiled by man. "Well?" His claws tightened. "Do you yield?" "I—" Astaka choked, comical in that all four heads hesitated as one. "Tir wux tyrtrol dout pliso?" Rux demanded in the dragon-tongue, cementing his offer of mercy. Once agreed, there would be no challenge except if Astaka were to outstrip Ruxin's power, or if Ruxin perished before the Naga. "Serve me, or nourish me." "S-si vield, ekess qe dout katima!" The Naga lowered itself. Ruxin exalted. Finally, after decades, his plan had come to fruition. For paltry beings with a century's life-span, human sages were wise in ennobling the simple virtue of patience. Now, he had a brother and a niece to tame. Eyeing his rear, Caliban skulked in its serpent form, warning Golos that one wrong move and it would revisit their last rendezvous. "Why didn't you run away?" Gwen sat with her back against the Wyvern's neck, stroking its ear ridges. Despite the good news from Ariel that Mayuree was safe, Kitty's absence made her melancholic and apprehensive, which led to the unusual choice of making Golos her conversation partner. "Dragons never run," Golos grunted. "We triumph, we yield, or we die." Gwen nodded, pressing her palm into the Wyvern's scales so that it prickled her flesh. "I wanted to run," she confessed. "Yet, you stayed." The Wyvern groaned, then to her surprise, Golos shat out a nugget of wisdom. "We are responsible for our own lives. The weak die, because they are not strong." Gwen chuckled, recalled what she had conjured up against the Naga, then thought about her master's wife. If might made right, what did that make Sobel? "I wonder about that." She smiled weakly. "Even so, thanks for saving me." "I did it for myself," Golos reprimanded her with a silvery iris, its gold-on-obsidian slit browsed her pale face. "If I died, I died for myself." "Well, I couldn't save my friend," Gwen castigated herself, more so because Golos' simple philosophy was brutally rational. For some reason, she just wanted to tell someone or have someone tell her off. "I watched her die, or maybe I killed her by accident, I don't know." "She human?" "Yeah." "Then it doesn't matter," Golos said. "Humans die so easily. Even if she lived, she would be dead in a century. She is not like us." "Us?" Golos snickered. "What manner of a Calamity could you be if you perished with time? Father could nap, and you would be dust. What are you, a Calamity for gnats?" "Will you suffer this Calamity to live?" Gwen picked at a piece of debris stuck between Golos' scales. Even now, his wounds wept. "What does the Yinglong mean by it?" "Why don't you ask Ruxin?" Golos growled threateningly. "I've paid my debt." "Shaaa!" Caliban wiggled its faceless, bullet-shaped head. Golos grumbled. "I see the two of you are getting acquainted," came a voice from above. Gwen looked up to see Ruxin in all his silver and mithril glory. The dragon appeared to have a thing for the divine, evident in his chiffon lungi, pearlescent robe, silvery hair and alabaster skin, punctuated by slitted, golden eyes. "Ru—" Gwen paused. Should she be addressing a five-hundred-year-old dragon as such? What was a viable honorific? The man had arguably saved her, maybe not her life, but certainly from much suffering. "Lord Ruxin, is the Tyrant defeated?" "Quashed and gone." Ruxin dipped his pointed chin. "The Tyrant rule these lands no longer." "Brother, I can't move," Golos whined. "And you're late." "I came as soon as I could," Ruxin apologised, surprising Gwen with the brothers' cordial relationship. "Dislodging the Pillar and subverting its power proved a challenging task." "Why are you in Kachin, Lord Ruxin?" Gwen continued carefully, trying to digest the brother's dialogue. "You know, I had thought you were the Tyrant." "Me, the Tyrant? Ha!" Ruxin laughed. "Oh, and call me Uncle Ruxin. Or just Uncle, if you like that." "Lord R—" "Ah-ah." Ruxin wagged his slender fingers. Gwen felt her lips curl. "Unc—" The title stuck in her throat. "Ruxin." "There, isn't that far more comfortable?" Ruxin chuckled. "Golos, relax your defences." Wyverns did not sweat, but whatever Golos did was enough to make Gwen wince sympathetically, sweating in his stead. "Irisv!" Ruxin muttered a draconic power word. To her amazement, a Lightning of renewal, not of death and destruction, washed over the Wyvern. "There, let it do its work. Do use your human form, Golos, how do you even hope to talk to Gwen looking like that? What if you sat on her? Mortals are malleable, you know." Golos grunted as bones popped back into place, flesh mended, and scales grew back. "Care for a jolt?" Ruxin pointed at Gwen's shredded suit. "What was that?" Gwen hid her shame with both hands, the potion had worked, as did her worm's theft of the Tyrant's vitality. She didn't need the healing, though she remained enthralled by Ruxin's display. A healing Lightning? Could such a thing exist? "An old magic…" Ruxin teased her. "Something you might acquire one day." The dragon glanced at Caliban, then gave her a wink. Gwen looked around, feeling flustered. With Ruxin acting strangely human and Golos accusing her of being inhuman, she wasn't sure how to proceed, and so she did what was right, considering the circumstance. "Look, um… thanks, Ruxin, for saving us." "If the Tyrant ate you, Ayxin's nagging would rot my ears," Ruxin said. "But, to answer your first question, I had no idea of your coming until Golos here told me of his dilemma. As for myself, I had planned for some time to subvert this Tyrant from his lair, to think you would be involved, how serendipitous, hmm?" "I see." Gwen mulled over Ruxin's words. "So, what happens now?" "Well, first, we need to greet our voyeuristic friends." "Our what?" "Excuse me." Before she could react, he cupped her skull with both hands. From her scalp, a queer sensation spread, draconic in origin and older than anything Gwen had ever experienced, suffusing her mind. After the first second of mild panic, her mind began to turn inward, shifting her consciousness until she was floating above the clearing, above the landscape, then scurrying East until she saw an encampment where several astounded proctors sat beside an array of wires connected to boxes of carefully arrayed HDMs and storage crystals. "Which one of you is Gwen's Chief Proctor?" Ruxin's voice resounded in her head. "By the Magi! Is it talking to us?" One of the Proctors leapt from his seat, tearing the Ioun Stone from his head. "You hear it too?" The second checked his device, punching in a series of glyphs. "I, Ruxin of Huangshan, is speaking to you. Are you not trained in speaking to your betters?" the voice in their heads continued. "Is it piggybacking off Magister von Schlabrendorff's Eye of Providence?!" the first Magister opened his mouth like a hungry carp. "Astounding!" "Lord Ruxin?" one of the Magisters was quicker on the uptake. "H-how can we serve?" "Finally," Ruxin continued. "As you have deduced, I am utilising Gwen Song's contract glyph right now, so I'll make this short before her brain burns out." "What?!" a female voice intruded. "I am now the undisputed ruler of the Wildlands known as Manipur, Nagaland and Kachin." Ruxin's voice blasted across the communication devices. "Bring me your leader. We shall negotiate for the future fate of Burma, as well as discuss your trespass of my domain." VOOMP! The box of storage crystals suddenly ignited, as did the Divination Engine. Ruxin's mind retracted. "You're the ruler of what now?" Gwen shook off the queasiness that came from simultaneously existing here and fifty kilometres away. With great humiliation, she realised she'd been drooling. "Of everything!" Golos's human voice was like sandpaper. She turned, only to be confronted by an enormously exposed Golos, mostly man, some dragon, looking like a bruiser found outside a fantasy pub on Oxford St on a Friday night. He was very well equipped. Wyverns have spiked clubs for tails, after all. "Shaaa!" Caliban wiggled its tail. Ruxin snapped his fingers, and Golos was suddenly wearing a longi. "The ruler of a modest kingdom, from the tip of Arakan to its northernmost edge and then some." Ruxin laughed expansively, joined by Golos, whose laughter came with a half-second delay. He then regarded Gwen with a grin. "I am, as of today, a landed dragon." _Was that-_ Gwen swallowed. _A human joke?_ "But…" Gwen glanced at the handsome dragon sceptically, struggling to link everything. Golos, Ruxin, the Yinglong, the Tyrant, the House of M? Was Maymyint somehow involved? That would be absurd; they were completely unrelated. "How?" With great benevolence, Ruxin placed a hand on her shoulder, and another on Golos, as one would a pair of prized hounds. "Why." The dragon savoured the words as though they gave him the greatest pleasure in the world. "With the help of my family." Richard, Lulan and Jiro flew as fast as their spells, affinities, and items could afford, speeding through the darkness as they made for Lea's essence vial. Some fifteen minutes ago, the northern tip of Kachin, near the Nagaland border, lit up as though day, signalling what could only be a cataclysmic event in its near vicinity. Could this be Gwen? Richard's cynical-self informed him that of course, who the hell else could it be? The blast of light wasn't a Barbanginy, but some similarities were unmistakable. For a while more, the trio flew in silence, each conserving their focus to maximise locomotion. Ding! A pale blossom of light bloomed beside Richard's ear. "Hello? Richard?" came the sound of Mayuree's voice. Oh, thank fuck! Richard adjusted the trajectory of his flight. "Mia! Where are you? Where's Gwen?" "EE EE!" came a sound from Ariel in the background. "Ee! Ee! EEE!" "What's happened?" Lulan's face was a mask of anxious worry. "Gwen's finished fighting the Naga," Lea translated for her companion, whispering in his ear. "She was getting all kinds of beat up, but she's safe now." Richard turned to the others. "She's fine, apparently," Gwen's cousin informed their companions. "I think that... er... she fought off the Tyrant?"

"I fear there's no trace of her,” Ruxin explained with great patience. At her behest, Ruxin returned the trio back to the spot where he and the Tyrant had concluded their titanic struggle. Where previously a primal landscape thick with Banyan, moss and tendrils of tropical creepers existed, now she bore witness to a barren apocalypse worthy of Vietnam. When Gwen explained the House of M's involvement with the Tyrant and her stake in the matter, Ruxin informed her that the Tyrant's rivalry with Me Nu was likely a bastard-on-bastard form of tribal cannibalism. The first few generations of the Mon and Pyu would have done well, he explained, but the life-spans of consecutive scions would have diluted until, twenty-centuries later, they became vermin. “But your ties to the House of M interest me.” Ruxin cocked his flawless mien. “Very soon, I shall have a vast and dire need for mineral resources. Nephrite and jadeite are useless to me. I need precious gems and crystals imbued with Water, Air or Positive elements. Are you familiar in the ways of human barter?” “I am." Gwen found the cooperative dragon an amicable listener. “Though first, I have accounts to be balanced with their eldest.” “Spoken like one of us,” Golos added on the sly, struggling to catch up with the duo’s conversation as their topic teleported from conspiracy to politics to blood-grudges. “Surely nothing so savage.” Ruxin furrowed his brows. "Is there something to gain?" Gwen winced. There was indeed much to gain: her Centurion profits being the least of it. Fooling oneself was much harder than prettying up her intentions, but she nonetheless persisted. “We can't have suffered for nothing, and Kitty can't have died for nought.” “Shaa!” sensing her intentions, her Familiar enquired if she was hungry. Her response was to stroke Caliban’s carapace in apprehensive silence. Anyone would be hungry after an expenditure of vitality like that, but her appetite wasn't for physical nourishment. The dragon observed his niece with an indecipherable expression before looking to the north. _Ding!_ A Message bloomed beside Gwen’s ear, bringing welcome tiding of Mayuree, Richard and her friends. "Your humans?" Golos licked his chops. "I could eat." The Wyvern rose from the floor. "Golos, please don't," Gwen pleaded. For a second, she had forgotten that Golos’ primary diet was sentient Merfolk. The Wyvern wasn't a buddy to be chummed with; he was a bonafide man-eater. “Be nice.” Ruxin raised a stern finger in warning. “No goading them. No eating them.” "Thanks." Gwen nodded at her "Uncle". "Niece," Ruxin addressed her with an overfamiliarity that drew her eyes. "Let me gift you with a little perspective. In the employ of your talents, how many creatures have perished? How many insects, how many flowers and fungi, had you consumed through your Void Beast? Where you had fought, the land is dead, empty, drained of all life. BLIGHTED. Did your heart shudder then? If not, why is it so indecisive now? Those creatures, in time, would have been a part of my being, each alive with vigour and the desire for multiplication and division. They were miniscule, yes, but a part of something infinitely greater than the singularities you mourn. So, my niece, if you must weep, mourn for million dead whose ascension you had quashed to save one." Gwen paled. Having one's ambiguous hypocrisy explained in no uncertain terms was too staggering a blow. "If you must act, exalt in your actions," Ruxin finished by poking her forehead before brushing back a strand of her wild, blood-matted hair. "That's our creed." "But the rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance," Gwen retorted with a line she had stolen from her old world, the very same she had sprouted to Yuki and Ichiro. "Is that wrong?" "Hahahaha..." A burst of burlesque laughter rebuked her aphorism. Ruxin shook his head, then gave her cheek a condescending pat. "Do you know why no one hunts true dragons?" She nodded. "That's right. We're a vengeful few." Ruxin's euphemism struck within her a dreadful cord. "If you truly believe in that human wisdom, then your Kitty has died a dog's death." “Gwen!” came a chorus of voices. Before her team could begin their draconic-encounter, Gwen flew out to embrace her teammates, then kissed Ariel for a job well done, receiving a tongue bath in return. Mayuree stood expectantly, awaiting the good news. What she received was Gwen bowing from the waist. “I couldn’t save Kitty!” came her friend's voice, loud and clear, ringing across the clearing. “I left her to die on the plateau. I failed you. I failed the team.” Mayuree’s lips parted, then closed, then embraced her saviour with a fierceness betraying the Diviner's tiny body, digging her face into Gwen's shoulders to stifle her broken-hearted groans. Ariel joined the huddle, nuzzling its master and her friend over and over. "It's my fault," the girl moaned. "All my fault." “Wocao! Kitty’s dead?!” Jiro blustered. "Was she a traitor then? Why?” "Jiro!" Richard scolded the Fire Mage with his eyes. "Sorry." Jiro bit his tongue. "Richard." Lea appeared beside Richard. "Those two down there, they're dragons." “Right. We'll talk later, and in private.” Richard coughed, wary of the demi-divine presence in white, accompanied by a half-naked barbarian brute. “Lea's right. Your friends look important... and impatient.” Setting aside her tumultuous emotions, Gwen guided her troop below, where with great mindfulness, she placed herself between her draconic and human companions. “Behold, Lord Ruxin, Thunder Dragon, first prince of Huangshan, now lord of this land,” she explained. “That’s Golos, I fought him before, for those of you who know of it. He’s the Thunder Wyvern who helped us with Seoul.” Richard bowed. Golos grunted. “Your Eminence." Unlike the others, Richard had been schooled by Prince’s in addressing sentient, higher-tier demi-human beings. “Richard Huang, at your service. I am Gwen’s cousin from Sydney. This is Lulan Li of Huashan, and this is Jiro Peng of Shanghai. We are her Fudan University teammates.” The others quickly fell into line, realising they were hinds gazing upon a momentarily satiated lion. “Sir!” Lulan bowed mechanically. “Lord!” Mayuree knelt in the mud, conditioned by Me Nu's teachings. “Dragon Lord!” Jiro saluted, sweating from every pore. “EE EE!” Ariel crouched, bowing to the superior presence. "Shaa!" Caliban nuzzled the new arrivals. “Be at ease.” Ruxin raised a hand. “I am not so mighty as you think. Do not mind the titles. Shamefully, it is I who is in my niece's debt.” Richard took the news stoically, Lulan appeared pleased. Mayuree, meanwhile, had been conditioned to grovel on the forest floor, while Jiro was about to lose his shit. “Gwen, you’re kin to a dragon?!” “It’s a complicated situation, Jay.” Gwen motioned for the young man to calm himself. “And please, not a word.” “Oh… of course! Ma’am!” The young man made the sign for silence. After Jiro's outburst, the conversation ceased. "What will you do now?" Gwen enquired of Ruxin, aware of the growing awkwardness. Simply put, the dragons had no interest in her human companions. Gwen wondered if an analogy would involve expecting her friends to baby-talk her cats. “I believe this is where we part.” Ruxin waved at Gwen's companions before commanding Golos to stop flaring his nostrils at the quivering Mayuree. “I shall return to the palace in Nagaland to oversee the transition." “Come with us.” Golos murmured at Gwen. "We'll populate the mountain, you and I—" _Slap_! Ruxin smacked his brother over the horns. "I have requested a meeting with your Chief Proctor," the Thunder Dragon reminded her. "Some good news for this competition of yours should disperse your looming cloud, I would hope." Gwen turned her eyes up toward the dragon's ivory face. “Ah-ah, not a frown further.” Ruxin poked her where her brows knitted, finding great amusement in the act. “Likewise, I shall prepare reparations for your service. Look forward to it!” _Crack_! A beam of white lightning caught the dragon’s divine figure. To Gwen's eyes, it appeared as though Ruxin had been beamed up by the USS Nagaland. The team turned to Golos expectantly. Grumbling, Golos broke into a sprint, leapt, then transformed into a resplendent Thunder Wyvern, making for the peak in the distance, leaving a trail of vibrant sparks. With the dragons gone, the tension burst like an overflowing meniscus. "Phew, shall we head back?" Richard unwound. "Cao, my heart almost exploded." Jiro exhaled. Gwen helped Mayuree from the floor. "Mia, there's more," Gwen invited Mayuree to stand beside her. "Here is where I fought the Tyrant. My Void Elementals... may have consumed Kitty's body." The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Two days after Kachin's draconic seachange, the handover from Mandalay to Hpakan was complete. The roads were cleared from the mines all the way down to the old capital, and its people returned to the labour of extracting precious stones from the earth. Thanks to the newly arrived machinery, supplies and medicines, industry returned to the region, regaining the vigour it had enjoyed before the monsoonal deluge. At their quest's conclusion, a grand speech was given by the proctors, curiously missing their leader and his assistant. When the others received news of Kitty’s passing, the celebratory mood grew tragic. The team's grief, however, was fleeting. That Mages died executing their duties was a tale as old as time. Everybody, explained Tei, knew of loved ones who died to monsters. Mages, whether in fable or in reality, died not from old age or disease, they died fighting. "Celebrate her life," Tei offered his condolences after performing a brief service, plying the trade of his family business. "Do not dwell, if you are right, her final act was to save Mayuree, let us remember that instead." "May Kitty be reborn to a better life," Yuki and the Kyoto team proffered sympathy and praise in equal measure. "You made the right choice. Mayuree is safe, our quest is completed, and the Tyrant is defeated. Isn't that enough, Gwen-san?" Was it enough? Gwen's response was one of ambivalence. Since their return, she had spoken to Mayuree many times, though each and every time, her friend plied her with platitudes and kind words of forgiveness, serving only to exacerbate her guilt. On the day of their southward return to Mandalay, a servant brought a Message from Marong. “Me Nu is dead,” Marong's voice came through. “Maymyint has murdered our 'mother' and usurped the House of M. I should have sensed her ploy when Mia was suddenly offered to the Tyrant. She's after our Centurion program. That's how this whole fiasco began." Was that it? Gwen again found herself astounded by the greed of her own kind. Since this began, she had wondered what Minty stood to gain, why the woman wanted to inherit Me Nu's shitshow. Now she knew. “Mayuree and I are at the end of our line,” Marong explained, his voice heavy with desperation. “Gwen, I am afraid Mayuree is going to remain in your care for the foreseeable future. If an opportunity arises, I am going to end Maymyint's tyranny over us, once and for all.” Mayuree’s eyes widened. "Marong, no!" “Don’t fret.” Gwen patted her on the shoulder. “Let me speak to Walken when we get to Yangon. If Marong wants to do this…” The room grew suddenly cold. “… then we do it together.” Magister Lutz von Schlabrendorff wrinkled his nose. Though the NoMs had gone and scrubbed the underground palace thoroughly, there was no doubt in his mind that a great deal of violence had soaked the stones as of late. “Sir, shall we proceed?” Magister Hass straightened her dress uniform. They were, after all, meeting with a being who had existed a hundred years before the dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire. A pure-blooded Thunder Dragon, first Scion to the Yinglong, and "Uncle" to Fudan’s Void sorceress. The last title made the Magister splutter with indignity, exhaling a lungful of frustrated air. After reviewing Ruxin's demands and communicating with his superiors from the Mageocracy, it had been decided that Lutz von Schlabrendorff would be their negotiator for the control of lower Burma. His orders from above were to secure Mandalay and Yangon, with the added proviso that a Tower was built in Yangon as soon as possible. Which meant that, after negotiations with Ruxin, he would continue south with his team of newly minted diplomats to meet with Me Nu about the possibility of re-establishing a Mageocracy-controlled faction, a prospect infinitely complicated by unseen foreign interests in Yangon. “Right, let’s go.” The proctors-turned-diplomats entered the sanctum, following a hundred-meter long seam of jade polished to perfection, then stepped into an underground hall bright with mother-of-pearl. “The remodelling is going to take some time,” a voice called out from the throne, a giant circular divan carved from a single piece of jadeite. “I am an open-air dragon if I do say so myself.” “Your eminence, Lord Ruxin,” von Schlabrendorff reverently intoned, then bowed. “The Mageocracy stands in awe of your victory over the Tyrant.” A man in white stepped from the raised platform. A single glance was enough to discern that indeed, the regal specimen was the scion of a mythic being. “You must be Lutz von Schlabrendorff, Gwen told me about you,” Ruxin nodded. “And you must be Evelyn Hass. Welcome to my new domain. Allow me to apologise for the lack of servants, we are in the process of reorganising.” From behind the divan, emerged two men, naked from the waist up and colourfully tattooed, with complexions the colour of caramel. They were followed by a third, an elderly man with a formidable bearing. “Bring our guests some tea and food, whatever’s in the storeroom,” Ruxin commanded the younger two. The young men bowed, then they were suddenly gone, leaving nary a trace of mana. _The Shadowmen of Manipur!_ Von Schlabrendorff’s brows twitched. Which meant the older man was the Vairagi. Are these rustic hermits now working with Ruxin? What did the Meitei people hope to achieve by allying with a dragon? “Well then.” Ruxin looked around. “Tika, bring us a table and some chairs.” Lutz von Schlabrendorff blinked. There was a woman in the room as well, but Ruxin's presence was such that he had scarcely noticed her. She looked to be a local, a serpent folk, with half-moon eyes and thick, sensual lips, possessing an androgynous allure. From her petite frame, she was likely a Meitei. The woman called “Tika” moved between the two parties, then muttered an incantation in dragon-tongue under her breath. At once, the jadeite floor shifted. Four chairs; von Schlabrendorff counted with dismay. One for Ruxin, one for himself, one for the Meitei of Manipur, and one other. "Am I the last to arrive?" a voice boomed across the hall. Von Schlabrendorff turned, confirming his hypothesis. "Magister, I am sure you're acquainted with Magister Wei Lin from the People's Liberation Army." "I came as fast as I could." The Magister bowed deeply, then grinned at his Mageocracy counterpart. "Surely the Mageocracy isn't thinking of drafting new borders without our consent? This isn't 1973 all over again, is it?" Von Schlabrendorff laughed. Wei Lin laughed. Ruxin and the Vairagi both joined in the merriment. “Gentlemen, take a seat." Ruxin made himself comfortable as the servants arrived with rice paper, dried meat and well-water. "Let us partake in this communion of mortal sustenance, then I shall tell you of how things came to be, and where hence they shall go.” Walken had prepared an hour-long scolding for his wayward student, but then Gwen arrived a day earlier than anticipated, with Marong and Mayuree in tow, enquiring as to the most practical means of murdering a certain Maymyint. His first reaction was to wonder if his protégé had been replaced by a doppelgänger. His second was to recall that Maymyint was an Enchanter. His third was to deliver the summary report from the Examination Committee verbatim. "So Kitty was glamoured..." Gwen's voice grew as frigid as the Void. "And I left her to die. Very well. I see." "And she tried to save me in the end." Mayuree fought back choking sobs. “… and you are certain Me Nu died to Maymyint?” Walken demanded of Marong, who nodded. “I witnessed the deed, as well as her contacting the Master of Nagaland." "And all of you are prepared?" Walken felt ten years younger. "Mentally and spiritually?" "We are." Gwen spat between pearly teeth. Between Ruxin, Golos, Mayuree, Marong and Walken's report, there was now no doubt as to the source of all their woes. “Then Maymyint must not be 'murdered',” Walken began with great sagacity. "She..." "Shaaa!" Caliban complained. “...I mean,” Walken continued. “That she must disappear. She must flee into the wilderness to live as a Wildland Rogue for the rest of her days.” The three youngsters listened to Walken as he laid out the pros and cons of Maymyint’s decision to "relent" her place as the head of the House of M, escaping the consequences of her crime. “... and there we have it. For vengeance, for justice, for profit and for the triumph of good, the deed should be done. Not to mention an Enchanter is our missing piece of the puzzle.” He watched as Gwen's face flushed a dark crimson. “Please.” Marong sank down on both knees. “We need this. Only you can make Maymyint retire beyond all trace of Divination.” Gwen's breathing grew audibly laboured. _The girl gets it,_ Walken rejoiced. _She understands._ "Think what Gunther would do," Walken distastefully advised. "Or Alesia." He had already explained her circumstance very well. In the psychomachia of virtue and vice, she had cause and justification. In the ways of a lawless Frontier, she possessed both might and means. In the secret court of her heart, her croaking Caliban roared for revenge. "When?" the girl muttered. "Why now, of course," Walken offered his most sympathetic presentation. "Strike while the iron's hot." Yangon. Kandawgyi Lake. In Karaweik Palace, the late Me Nu’s pleasure barge had taken on a new mistress. The news had yet to spread, for Maymyint dared not cement her place without first dealing with the loss of Mayuree, Kitty, and possibly Gwen Song and the subsequent fallout with the IIUC Committee. There would be reprimands, which Maymyint was willing to accept. She had even readied scapegoats, Rogue Mages operating from Indaw, saboteurs she had long since set up to infiltrate Aung San’s mountain forces, ready to take the blame. After that, came the real business, the cornerstone of her plan. Her master from the shadows had it all mapped out. As a real dragon and as a being of thunder and air, he had no need for earthly items like the Pillar of Jade to subsume the land. Therefore, the Pillar would fall to her, and she would grace the Mageocracy with an offer they could not refuse. A Tower in Yangon. She would be a hero, single-handedly responsible for returning a piece of fertile and populated land into the welcoming arms of humanity. Maymyint chuckled to herself, eager for the good news from the north, delighting in the sound of her reverberating laughter. According to her Shadowmen, her master had been successful in retrieving the Pillar of Jade. All that's left was to seize her prize. Knock. Knock. She roused with a start, glancing at her side to ensure that her guards were present. Soundlessly, two elite Shadowmen melded into the half-lit gloom of the opulent palace. “Come in.” The massive golden doors yawned open. Slowly and with great deliberation, Marong entered. “Marong, what a surprise.” Maymyint felt her fingers tingle. She had been awaiting the confrontation ever since Mayuree arrived with her guard in Indaw. “What’s the matter, Brother?” Marong held the door for so long that, for a brief moment, Maymyint wondered if he had a whole platoon of Mages ready to storm the throne room. Just as she was about to scold his tardiness, a second figure came through the door. “Maymyint.” The voice that spoke was sicky sweet, not at all like Maymyint’s own. She had always hated that voice, the innocence, the hope, the melodrama of it irked her to no end. “M-Mayuree!” Maymyint bolted upright in her throne, her spine suddenly ramrod-straight. “H-How?” “The Tyrant is no more,” Marong intercepted his sister’s speech. Together, the two began their advance. “Gwen fulfilled the prophecy.” “I-impossible!” Maymyint’s eyes searched the room for her guards. “It possesses the Jade Pillar! Not even...not even…“ She swallowed. There was no way Gwen Song defeated the Tyrant; it had to be a bluff. She had seen Marong and Mayuree grow into adults. She knew them better than anyone. The siblings must be at the end of their wits, that was why they had forced this audience upon her, to threaten her, to gain their freedom. And yet... if Gwen Song could defeat the Tyrant, then was it with help? Perhaps Ayxin? Her master’s sister, or even the Ash Bringer? The man had appeared formidable, but there was no way a mortal could beat down a dragon with an infinite supply of vitality and mana. But then again, what did any prophesy matter? Her Master would soon return, and it was Maymyint who had the dragon's backing. If so, what need she fear? “You lie.” Maymyint resumed a semblance of calm. “You’ve escaped, somehow, and now you’re trying to undermine my authority. Very well, I'll play your game. Your survival was an impressive feat. Marong, Mayuree, what do you want?” “Vengeance for Kitty,” Mayuree snarled. “You glamoured her! Sent her to her death! There wasn’t even a body left!” But the fool lived to die for you. Maymyint silently lambasted her dimwitted sister. “An accident.” She remained calm, masking her disdain. “There are costs when progress has to be made. The Tyrant had to be lured from its lair, you understand. The House of M will only grow from here. With myself in command and no Tyrant and no Me Nu, do you have any idea how much we stand to make? How extensive our restaurants, auctions, consortiums—" Marong disappeared in a puff of smoke. "MARONG! YOU DARE? Guards!” Maymyint barked without hesitation. Marong was a fantastic Mage when it came to combat, but he had made the stupid decision to bring his sister. “Dominate!” A blast of Radiance filled the room. Glamoured, Mayuree suddenly ran forward, opening her arms so that she became a human shield to protect Maymyint. A moment later, Marong reappeared, a safe distance away with both hands raised. “Changed your mind?” Maymyint chuckled. "Guards, kill him." Marong’s expression, to her surprise, was one of ridicule. Where are the Shadowmen? Maymyint's brows knitted, suddenly realising a fatal error. Are they refusing to attack a colleague? "Guards!" she called out at once. "OBEY YOUR CONTRACT!" Silence reigned. Marong chuckled. "Fool! I still have Mayuree," Maymyint hissed. "You—" _SCHUNK_! Mayuree turned to regard her sister with tear-stained eyes, seemingly free of her Mind Magic. Maymyint blinked as her body grew weightless. Below, a pair of scything blades had sprouted from her chest, one through her breast, the other through her abdomen. She opened her mouth to protest her surprise, though nought but frothy blood gurgled from her lungs. With great effort, her eyeballs swivelled upwards. "MAS—" "SHAAAA!" Two enthusiastic tentacles met her halfway. Marong watched. Mayuree turned away. Outside the opulent throne room, a sorceress was sick all over the floor, simultaneously assailed by pleasure and revulsion. On the 23rd of September, 2004, Maymyint, eldest of the House of M, fled into the Wildlands, never again gracing the material world.

"Very well." Magister Lutz von Schlabrendorff signed off on the tablet in front of him. "287 CCs for Jiantong." "Poor sods." A second Magister winced. "In-fighting's the worst." "It's an old story," another voice joined in around the table. "Comes with the territory if you're a tribal caster. Strong soloists, horrible teamwork." "It's not as though we're immune," another snorted. "Swap out Sects for families, and what do you get? Europe's homogeny is incidental, I'd say." "Quiet!" Von Schlabrendorff raised another slate. "Are we agreed on Seoul?" "Since the Orientals have applied for 'withdrawal'." The third shrugged. "That's that." "They've submitted a request for the memory crystals," Magister Hass reminded her supervisor. "Or at least for the lumen-crystals NOT to be widely circulated." "If they're willing to do it, they're willing to show it." Von Schlabrendorff frowned unpleasantly. "No exceptions." "Understood, sir." "Seoul U, 0 CCs. Withdrawn. Remind Magister Kim that both our time and materials need to be repaid." The chief proctor signed off on the next slate. "Tell Brussels to keep an eye on them. All communique must be available on the public record." "Yessir." "Next, Kyoto. Any questions?" The table collectively shifted their gaze to the final stack of documents and data-slates. Where Kyoto's collated data generated a report the thickness of von Schlabrendorff's thumb, the volume beside it could be used to stop a Magic Missile. "Very well, then, including penalties for illicit use of logged Magic Items, 2640 CCs to Kyoto." "Next, Fudan—" Magister Hass retrieved the upper-most tablet. The room broke out into a great clamour. "Are you out of your mind, Lutz?" A Magister who'd awaited the whole tedious meeting was at the limit of his patience. "You may have convinced Brussels, but how are you hoping to convince anyone else? Japan will be in an uproar! Seoul will challenge! The Chinese will have their day and never let us live it down!" "SILENCE!" Von Schlabrendorff banged the table. "We will examine an itemised list, and I shall explain. If you remain dissatisfied, you may appeal to Meister von Braun." The protest died a slow death even as tensions remained high. "First, we shall begin with Fudan's accomplishments," von Schlabrendorff began. "Hass?" "Fudan University was the only team to stop and aid the local population, detouring to engaging in search and rescue operations in Takaung. One survivor was recovered and revive—" The table exploded. "SHUT UP!" von Schlabrendorff barked. "Another interruption and we are done!" The others returned to their seats. Magister Hass continued. "One survivor was recovered and revived. The village then received food and shelter, enough for aid to arrive from the larger townships closer to Mandalay. For Samaritanism in the spirit of the quest, 100 CCs." "Fudan was the last team to arrive, landing at La War. Concurrently, Seoul U was involved in the construction of a dam which they used for flood control. As they have withdrawn, we will no longer contest this matter. During this incident, Gwen Song engaged and wounded Lee Si-Won, resulting in the collapse of the dam, and the partial destruction of La War. Subsequent evacuations and management of the village's damage yielded a total of 340 CCs for this event." "What follows are events that lead to forfeit by Jiantong and Seoul U. You shall find these in sections 1.3.2 and 2.4.2. A comprehensive spell-list can be found in your appendix A. Items in appendix C. No CCs were awarded nor deducted for these events as they do not pertain to the given goals of the quest." "Following their competitors' exit, Fudan repaired damaged roadwork to the jade mines. At the mine itself, Fudan implemented sanitation measures as well as introduced work safety for the local villagers. Wages and a reward system was established to punish laziness and catalyse responsible behaviour. Villagers from Kamaing were brought in through diplomacy. A local tribe of Wildland macaques was bribed to form a temporary truce with the human inhabitants, ensuring the safety of both La War's and Kamaing's citizens. Most importantly, discrepancy within the manager's statements and a new accounting system were implemented. In exchange for evading punishment, resources estimated at 40,000 HDMs are pending recovery. The itemised list is on appendix, section F. In total, 2,130 CCs were awarded." "From Mandalay, Fudan's second team organised resource distribution through a point-duelling system alongside Kyoto U. For minimising conflict and enabling cooperation, 340 CCs." "During the Indaw engagement, Fudan exterminated one hostile tier 8 Naga and five Rogue Mages, while minimising collateral damage to the township. With the total loss of two trucks and forty-eight NoMs taken into account. 250 CCs." "Finally, Fudan's convoy arrived intact in Hpakan with 90% of all goods delivered without further incident. Taking into account critical goods and no other loss of life. 150 CCs." "This brings us to 3310 CCs," Hass finished. "Now for the deductions." "The Chief Proctor has previously detected the illicit use of Mind Magic on the Diviner, Mayuree. A warning had been given to Fudan's advisor, Magister Walken, who elected the party at fault to be Miss Maymyint, our point of contact for Yangon's central administration. During the competition, an incident occurred. Miss Kitty Liang fell under the control of a mid-tier Embedded Agenda Enchantment, a highly illicit example of Mind Magic strictly controlled under Article 17, though as Burma remains an extra-territorial Frontier, the legalities remain complex." "During this incident, our surveillance systems suffered a setback. However, we have it on the authority of the proctors present that Fudan had initiated the following actions." "Gwen Song. Illicit use of unregistered, restricted Magic Item - Superior Potion of Invisibility." "Gwen Song. The lethal use of Class II Restricted-Magic 'Cloud Kill' on another Mage. Though the victim, presumed to be Aung San Yuzana, is a Rogue Mage, thereby not under the protection of the Tower's laws." A grudging murmur spread through the table. "Gwen Song. Suspicion of Conspiracy. Records show that the individual 'Golos' who intervened during the incident in regards to Seoul U is known to her. If proven, match interference of this kind may be escalated to disqualification." "That's right!" a Magister called out. "Conflict of interest!" The chief proctor stared him down. "Kitty Liang - Mind Magic and match interference. Although the incident did not directly tamper with the results, therefore, no CCs will be deducted. As a side note, Contestant Gwen Song engaged Kitty Liang in a friendly-fire incident resulting in her teammate's death. Details are in section IV-I." Hass waited for the decision to sink in before delivering her final line."After review, Gwen Song's actions cannot be construed as seeking an advantage, nor having resulted in one. As for the involvement of third-party Magical Creatures, Magister von Schlabrendorff will clarify." Hass turned on her heels, then stood primly behind Lutz, her superior. "That's all very well and good, but aren't you missing something?" a Magister raised a bundle of documents in frustration. "I want to know why Fudan is receiving a SEEDED position for the IIUC!" "Why is there no mention of the Tyrant in your report?" "What about Ruxin? What about the Thunder Dragon?" "I heard she fought a Mythic! To a stand still!" "What of her ties to Sobel? She used a similar spell—" "What's going to happen to the other Asian teams?" "You're destroying our neutrality! Blatant favouritism from Brussels!" "You Grey Faction scoundrels!" "Are your militant meatheads any better?" Von Schlabrendorff sipped his coffee while the other proctors tired themselves out. Recent events had indeed been a victory for the Grey Faction, though his fellow proctors likely had no idea of the details. "I understand your frustration." Von Schlabrendorff's voice overpowered the outburst. "But let me enlighten you on events as they now unfold. A deal has been made with Ruxin, the new Lord of Nagaland, Manipur and Kachin, a lease of sorts for the foreseeable future. If you don't like it, make a petition and tell your backers to pay a visit to the Jade Palace in Nagaland. My authority in this comes from the top - London, Berlin and Beijing are in agreement." The table fell into sullen silence. "A few days ago, I visited Lord Ruxin as the representative of the Mageocracy," von Schlabrendorff explained with great patience. These men had brought an axe to grind, and he had waited for their choler to dull before delivering a bite of his own. "Though an official announcement has yet to be made, I will inform you of where we stand. From October, the Mageocracy will resume governorship of Yangon as a Frontier Protectorate, while the Chinese will establish a military presence to the north, in Mandalay. In exchange for resource autonomies, as well as Gwen Song's guaranteed passage through to the IIUC's international round, Yangon will receive the Pillar of Jade." A collective shuffling of chairs filled the room. A Tower in Yangon! A Human Frontier returned to the fold! "Lord Ruxin's initial demand." Von Schlabrendorff cleared his throat. "Was to gift Fudan 100,000 CCs in the IIUC to 'get it over and done with'." A new silence fell over the room. "I choose instead to preserve our dignity," von Schlabrendorff vocalised sardonically. "As such, all of you will join me in agreeing that Fudan has achieved Seeded status, taking one of Asia's two slots, with a total score of 3310 CCs, a new record for the Asian Qualifiers. Are there any questions?" "I've got one." "Go on, Magister Corey." "Why Gwen Song?" "I am afraid that isn't for me to say, James." If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. "Fine, then I have a question." A dozen heads turned to regard the elderly scholar. From her pregnant vowels and elongated 'e', it was evident that the hawkish Magister hailed from the American west coast. "Is this because Gwen Song raised the dead?" A new hush filled the chamber. "No," said von Schlabrendorff. "That is a separate matter—" "I find that hard to believe," the woman interrupted Von Schlabrendorff. "Whatever you might say, the demi-human she aided had been asphyxiated. Your own observations crystals indicate her breathing had ceased." "The woman was a demi-human being," Von Schlabrendorff added. "Their physiologies are different." "Nonetheless," Magister Williams persisted. "That's Necro—" "Magister Milford Williams!" von Schlabrendorff snapped. "There was neither Positive Energy nor Negative Energy present during the incident! For all we know, it was luck! Sheer luck!" "And the Grey Faction, including her disgraced advisor, has no interest in this matter?" Williams scoffed. "Need I remind you that her wardens in Sydney, Magus Shultz and De Botton belong to our Middle Faction." "What are you suggesting?" Von Schlabrendorff growled. "What I am saying..." Willams snarled. "Is that the Grey Faction is up to its old tricks, trying to hog a good thing!" Then, as if gasoline to a Fireball, the room ignited. With great care, Ruì placed a blanket over Gwen's hunched, groaning body, then tip-toed from the spacious open-office with the others. Suddenly appearing at the office after her return from Yangon, Ruì's lady boss had thrown herself into her appointed position as advisor for the House of M, shackling her NoM assistants to the small, single floor office while she tirelessly pored over the flood of paperwork coming in from Yangon, Hong Kong, Guangzhou, Chengdu, Singapore and more. "How long has she being awake?" Terence, dark eye-bags under his eyes, breathed a sigh of relief. "Any longer and I would have died." "How do I look." Effi poked at her bloated face. "You look like a Pandaren." Ruì wanted to laugh, but she was afraid of waking her boss. "I think she's been up for four days." "I am going to find a motel close by and fall unconscious." Terence stumbled away. "Message me." "Where's Ken and Dai?" Ruì asked of her companion. "Ken's gone on the third day, says he's got an emergency back at Secretary Chen's," Effi reminded her. "Dai said he'd come back when the Boss is sane again." "… Alright." Ruì licked her cracked lips. From the looks of it, she would be sleeping at the office again. Ding! The lift opened. "Richard!" At the sight of Gwen's dashing cousin, her heart was suddenly aflutter. The others followed, bowed, then took the lift down. "Ruì," Richard acknowledged the secretary. "Is Gwen…" "Asleep," Ruì explained her bosses' situation to the young man. "Oh, hello there, Miss Mayuree." The House of M's heir was also one of Ruì's bosses. According to Gwen, she was now the boss of her boss. "I have something for her." Mayuree indicated her Storage Ring. "It's from my brother. He said it'd cheer her up." "She's asleep just now," Ruì said. "We'll wait." Richard smiled attractively. "Have you eaten? Know any place good?" Ruì's face flushed a bright crimson; all thoughts of fatigue fell from her mind. "I do!" she answered enthusiastically. "I know just the place!" "T-three thousand and three hundred?!" Dean Luo spluttered, spilling the tea he'd been nursing. "And Ten," Walken finished. "Also, she's picked up Enchantment." "One thing at a time." Luo raised a hand in protest. "Mao, how in the world? Kyoto or Tsinghua takes home the cup every other year just breaking twenty-five hundred!" "She also liberated Burma, by accident." Walken raised his teacup in the manner of a man having read a mildly interesting scandal in the tabloids. "I expressly forbid her, you should know. It's all on record, I am sure." "And Enchantment! That's good news." Dean Luo paced back and forth, then stopped. "Did you just say…" "Then fought a pseudo Mythic Naga to a standstill, then triple-teamed it with a Thunder Dragon and a Thunder Wyvern," Walken continued with a deadpan dryness only the English could afford. Dean Luo stopped by the alcohol cabinet and poured himself a stout glass of Maotai; his heart wasn't as shatterproof was it had been in the old days. "Anything else?" "Revived a dead woman by accident." Luo spilt half a glass of the precious alcohol over his hand and the carpet, filling the room with the pleasant scent of fermented sorghum. "Necromancy?" "Nothing of the sort, I think it has to do with her Druidic Essence," Walken calmed his old friend before correcting himself. "Well, Draconic-Essence." "Eric, you old fox." Luo sucked in a breath of cold air. "Mao, what have you unleashed." "We." Walken replaced his cup, then repeated himself. "And Wen as well. If we share the credit, we share the blame." "There's bad news as well..." Walken explained the problem with Kitty before elaborating on what the team had told him. "But then there's the good news." Dean Luo optioned to find a place to sit so that if he went into cardiac shock, he could be revived with his dignity intact. "She liberated both Mandalay for the CCP and Yangon for the Mageocracy?" "Well, we can't say it like that. The Yinglong's scion is the mastermind I am sure. If I'd been in the thick of it, I would have suspected Ruxin the moment he came out on top. No one, not even a Dragon, comes out with a total victory without meticulous scheming. If you want my opinion, I think the old drake's gotten a bit too greedy. Considering one of Gwen's companions died, the secrecy won't do either of them favours in the future." "Now that's a confrontation I am not looking forward to." The Dean sighed. "BUT, the result is that we have a seeded spot for the IIUC?" "Yes." "Mao!" Luo was sweating. "First time we've gotten close, and we're going straight to the main competition!" "MASTER!" Ellen teleported into the Dean's office. "There are hundreds of reporters beating down the front gate! They want to talk to Fudan's IIUC team! They want interviews. They're clamouring for Gwen!" "Where's Gwen now?" "Working - believe it or not." Walken grimaced, tapping his forehead. "She needs time to sweat off her angst, I am afraid. Her final School of Magic didn't come easy." "Ellen." The Dean nodded understandingly. "Get me Tei and anyone else from the team who's at Fudan right now. Set up the Guanghua tower's auditorium. When's the match broadcasting?" "In two days, Sir." "Eric?" "I'll talk to her. For now, she needs time." "Thanks." the Dean peeked outside, where already he could see more reporters gathering. "Ellen, clear my schedule. It's going to be a busy week." Gwen realised she must have fallen asleep, because she had lost consciousness during the day, and now it was night time. "Ruì?" The office was deserted, though that wasn't a bad thing. When she moved from the table, a blanket shifted from her back, still warm from her body's heat. Good old Ruì, she thought to herself, then leaned back in her chair. It had felt good. Killing Minty, that is. Watching the woman's smug face as she goaded Marong and Mayuree, she had never felt so sure of anything in her whole life. When Caliban struck its appendages through her unresisting body, she had felt a sadistic rapture. Then came the horror, and the pleasure, which was mild in so far as the scale was concerned, but still enough to buckle her legs with quivering delight. That had been the worst, as all her pent up self-loathing ripped out of her oesophagus, emptying her stomach twice over, painting the jade-tiled floors. Then strangely, catharsis. The Greeks weren't kidding when they privileged Nemesis, divine balancer of life, dark-faced daughter of Justice. There was something to be said of having a good purge now and then. After that, she picked herself from the floor. Consulted with Mayuree and Marong, then switched off something in her head so that she could coast through the darkness that came with her crisis of conscience. Two days later, she was back in Chengdu. Then, without visiting her much anticipated Pandaren, she was back in Shanghai, being hugged by Petra, who gave her a big, sloppy, comforting kiss on the forehead. At Petra's behest, Gwen had promised to call Babulya the next morning, but then she looked up at the ceiling and recalled that only a few walls away, was Kitty's now vacant bedroom. That very night, dressed in her best professional outfit, she showed up to work and inspected her worker's progress. The next morning, she requested an interim report from Magus Maymaruya, as well as stacks of Tonglv documents, after which the rest became a blessed blur of unthinking arithmetics and compounding interests. According to Marong, when he declared in favour of Yangon Tower following their disposal of Maymyint, the lesser factions in the House of M broke into a riot of succession fantasies. All quailed, however, when the Vairagi of the Shadowmen made an appearance and affirmed their allegiance. When Marong's contemporaries began calling him the new Me Nu, Marong pointed out that instead, it was Mayuree who now reign at the House's peak. Mayuree, a companion to she who defeated the Tyrant, who in turn had the backing of the new master of Kachin, Manipur and Nagaland. A woman who undoubtedly would come one day into her own Tower. A fox who borrows the tiger's borrowing of the dragon's terror? Gwen had read over the letters of loyalty, to which she responded with a full financial review. That and she recommended for Marong to begin training an elite troop of accountants. "Borrow some of the NoMs to teach the Shadowmen," she had Messaged back. "You can call them Mayuree's Shadow Auditors." "I shall begin at once," Marong informed her. "Also, your requested items will arrive in Shanghai soon. Take it 'on the house'. What we owe you will take time to repay. For now, let us shoulder some of your burdens." What Marong referred to was her request for upper-tier Contingency Rings for Lulan, Richard and a new ring for Mayuree. At the 10,000 HDM tier, the rings came with contracts for triage and sanctuary in the Mageocracy's Towers. Stripping out of her workwear, she took a shower in her private bathroom, feeling as though she was peeling off a layer of old skin. As she slid into the silk she had gotten from Hangzhou, a recollection resurfaced. She dropped her brush. "OH, SHIT!" She cursed, almost slipping on the tiles. Frantically, she punched in the Glyphs to dial her Babulya. "Gwen?" Pale Divination bloomed beside her ear. "How are you feeling?" "Babulya! I am sorry for not calling sooner!" Gwen apologised profusely. "I'd been so distracted by everything that's happened. Is Yeye there? I want to apologise as well." "I am at the hospital right now," her Babulya's soothing voice came through. "Richard told us everything. Congratulations on the match. The official results are out tomorrow, so I hear." "Thanks, Babulya." Gwen felt a sudden exhilaration. It was a beautiful thing to have one's anticipations confirmed. "Everyone did their best. How about you? How have you been?" "Busy as always." "How's Percy?" "The usual, trying to chase after you, although it looks like he may have some distance to go. Guo said that you liberated a country?" "Aha…" Gwen laughed awkwardly. "I think you should ask Uncle Jun about that. I happened to be in the right place at the right time." "He's such a good boy." Her grandmother sighed happily. "Guo's work has become much easier since Jun found himself with that dragon princess. To think my boy would find himself a dragon-kin! Who'd have imagined he would find someone older than his parent? I didn't know where to put my face when Ayxin called me 'mother'!" The shared laughter dispelled some of Gwen's residual ill feelings. "Ah, Babulya, you're the best." "I try, dear. So, I am assuming you're calling because of Hai?" "I forgot to Message Father," Gwen confessed. "I told Uncle Jun I would, and yet… did Qīn…" "She did," her babulya informed her. "I delivered the child myself. A boy." "Congratulations." "Thank you." Her babulya's tone was ambivalent. "Your Yeye says he's torn, but I can see that he's the happiest he has been in decades. The child's name is Shui. Song Shui." "Water?" "Aye, a name which we hope he lives up to, for there shall be trials for the child yet." "Is he going to be another Salt Mage?" "Let's hope not." Klavdiya's voice grew uncertain. "Mao willing." "I'll call him and congratulate him," Gwen promised. "You do that, dear, and take care. Will you be joining us on Sunday? There'll be a gathering at home." "I'll try, babulya." "Good night." "G'night." The Message died. Ding! "Gwen, you're up?" came the voice of Richard. "Yeah." She stretched her fingers. "What's up?" "Well, you've been in a cave for four days, so we'd thought to bring you some real food." "God, yes." Gwen realised that indeed, she was finally hungry. For four days she had survived on chocolate, coffee and magically appearing take-out that Ruì had left on her table. "Mia has a package for you as well. Says it's from Marong." "Cool, see ya soon." Gwen then left a Message for her father, lacking the courage to deal with her old man's frustrations. "Dad, congratulations on your new son. Song Shui, was it? It's a good name. Please give my best wishes to Aunty Qīn as well. There'll be a gift from me soon!" She shut the Message Glyph before someone could reply. After a few more minutes of darkness and sullen silence, she Glyphed on the lumen-globes so that the office grew bright as day. "Yo!" The door opened. "Gwen, how are you feeling?" Richard visibly appeared to relax when he entered the bright room and saw her in a pastel dress. "We got you an XL dan-dan mien." "Cheers." Gwen stood so that all her friends could see she was indeed better than the bedraggled hellion that had returned from Burma with a chip on her shoulder and a bone to chew. "Sorry, everyone. I had lots of accounting to do, both personal and business." Richard had returned with more people than she thought. Including Ruì, there was also Mayuree, Lulan, Kusu and Petra. Hugs were exchanged all around before her companions made themselves comfortable. While Gwen ate, Ruì made tea and prepared biscuits and cakes for the Mages, playing the part of a perfect secretary. "So what's this package?" Gwen asked after an exchange of teas, cakes and ices. "The Rings?" Her Diviner materialised an intricate looking wooden chest from storage. "The Rings are being sent to Fudan T2. Marong says these are from your collaborator." Mayuree invoked the unlocking incantation, then opened the box. Within the chest, nestled in velvet silk, were two perfectly preserved Creature Cores, so dense with Earthen mana that their observers felt as though a mild Petrification spell had come into effect. "Mao…" Lulan was the first to react, accompanied by an open-mouthed Petra. The Sword Mage alone was the Earthen Mage, and she felt an unmistakable connection to the stones. "A-are those… higher-tier Naga Cores?"

"Left or Right?" The casualness of Gwen's voice betrayed the rarity of Ruxin's leftovers. "The left one," Lulan replied, halfway between a dream-come-true and a waking nightmare. "Gwen, this is a higher-tier Spirit!" "Good." Gwen retrieved the Core as one might a packaged sirloin from the supermarket, then tossed it between Lulan's lap. "Here, it's yours." "NO!" Kusu blurted beside his sister, rattled by the fortune fallen from heaven. "That's a debt we can't repay. In all of Huashan, there is a single Sword Spirit! You're buying Lulu a ring already. We can't—" "Why would I demand reparation?" Gwen pushed the Core into Lulan's unresisting hands so that its odds and ends poked her thighs. "I need an offensive caster who can kick arse in Europe. What's fairer than that?" "Don't be ridiculous," Kusu spluttered. "Gwen, be reasonable. Lulan, give it back." Lulan agonisingly lifted the crystal. In response, Gwen procured the second Core, then tossed it toward Petra. "Here Pats, my tuition fees." Petra caught the Core, then ran her hand over the surface. In the past, Petra informed Gwen of the impossibility of her finding a unique, higher-tier, sapient, sentient Spirit. A Mineral variation was astronomically scarce, which was why she had given up long ago. "Hmm, condensed Nephrite. Interesting. I'll let you know if I can attune." Petra wasn't nearly so shy. "Lulu, just so you know, the earlier you receive a sapient Spirit, the easier it is for them to attain humanoid forms. Gwen, are you sure?" "Absolutely." "Thanks." The girl inclined her chin. "The benefit will be mutual." "Absolutely." Gwen nodded back, then turned to Lulan and Kusu. "See? Is that so hard?" Kusu looked at his sister, who hugged the Core like a newborn. "Those are… priceless," Richard butted in, renewing his understanding of Gwen's generosity. "Perfectly preserved high-tier Cores are as rare as hen's teeth." "But their value lies in use, not worth." Gwen shrugged. "Think about the Jade Pillar. What good had it done in the hands of the Tyrant? I don't need currency, and I don't wish to hoard. Their only worth to me is what they can do for Lulu and Pats. I could trade them away as well, but I doubt an equitable trade would be possible." "You say that." Richard smacked his lips drily. "But you could have bought a high-rise building near the Second Orbital…" "You're overestimating their exchange rate," Mayuree chipped in, enlightened by Gwen's disregard for gifted treasures, so different to the late Me Nu and Maymyint. "The Cores are rare, though they're unlikely to find buyer, even with Spirits. We're looking at anywhere between 30,000 HDMs to 150,000 HDMs, and Mages with bloodlines worth that kind of investment usually don't lack for Spirit Cores." Lulan begged her pale-faced brother with pleading eyes, who relented after a defeated dip of his head. "Lulu." Petra motioned for her to get up. "Gwen, you still have that private training room booked?" "I am coming as well." Gwen grinned, motioning for the others. "Let's see some magic!" "Kusu, chill!" Richard slapped Kusu on the back so that the young man wouldn't asphyxiate. "Don't mind it so much. Everyone gets a fair shake of the sauce bottle on Team Gwen, eh?" "Fair dinkum," Gwen added yet another Aussie slang to the mix, confusing the siblings to no end. "No worries, Kusu, Lulu'll be right." The rest broke into laughter. "Umm… Miss Song?" Ruì meekly implored at her mystic betters as they casualy exchanged gifts worth more than her lifetime earnings. "Can I go home now?" "Gwen! Come quick! They're everywhere!" Mayuree's Message burst through the ceiling, causing Gwen to rise from her bed with such force that her bedframe threatened to revolt. "Oh, Goddess!!" Mayuree yelped at the pale wonder suddenly materialising in her living room. "Lei, get Gwen a robe!" "What is it— Oh my God! Lei!" Their ill-dressed intruder performed a double-take, then embraced the NoM woman with suffocating passion. "You're safe! You're back! Thank God!" "Miss Song." Lei winced as her bones creaked. "I can't breathe." "S-sorry!" Gwen released the matronly woman from her death-grip. "I am just so happy to see you again. We've been surviving on takeout…" "Hey!" "Hahaha…" "Let me get you a robe, Miss Song." Lei quickly retrieved a robe from the laundry. "So, what's the matter?" Gwen studied the spotless penthouse, wondering if Mayuree had seen rats or cockroaches. "Look down." Mayuree indicated toward her panoramic panes. "HOLY…" Below, like a maliciously conjured swarm, a milling assembly of three dozen reporters and their crews meandered through B1's external garden. "What do we do?" Mayuree pressed against the glass. "Last time, you got in so much trouble." "Let me ask." Gwen wasn't sure if she had permission to deal with the paparazzi herself and so turned to her master of dubious schemes. She punched in the Glyphs, then waited for the Divination to connect. "Eric?" "Gwen." Walken sounded tired. "What's happened?" "Mia and I have been blocked in by the paparazzi at B1," she explained, playing the Message aloud. "I need to take my team to T2 today to get their rings registered and Contingency contracts validated. Judging from the crowd, did we win?" "I am not going to ruin it for you." Walken's tone was effervescent but evasive. "Just so you know, Luo and I have been dealing with your fallout for the last three days. It's good that you called because we're conscripting you for the day. There's going to be a press conference at the Guanghua auditorium, where your scores are announced. As for you, get dressed, impress the gallery outside, then get back to the campus. Richard and the others won't be needing your supervision, even if you're paying for their rings." "Actually, Marong's paying." "Good God." Walken bit his tongue. "I don't know if I am impressed or appalled." "Our interests are mutual." "Of course," her instructor concluded with a patronising pause. "Now go. Call me when you get here. Magister Wen is looking forward to sampling your latent abilities." At the mention of the zealous researcher, her joy soured. "Alright, Eric." She turned to Mayuree and Lei, still wearing borrowed bathrobes. "We gotta doll up for the press." "What are you going to wear?" Mayuree averted her eyes from the second floor. There would be nine of them at the conference, making the reality of Kitty's passing all the more poignant. "What do you think I should wear?" "Miss Song!" "Gwen Song!" "Vice Captain Song!" The mob of reporters moved forward, then staggered back when confronted by a blue-white Kirin pacing beside an obsidian Deathworm. After which the creatures' owner arrived. As one, devices were raised, buttons depressed and glyphs fired. For a few brief seconds, the frontage of Gouding B1 grew incandescent. To the press corps, the Familiars' mistress was magnificent. Raven haired and crimson-lipped, she appeared a treat in crow-black chiffon, hiked just enough so that the pale length of her white legs induced voyeuristic guilt. As she approached, popping lumen-strobes vivified her hazel orbs, punctuating the click-clacking of her Mary-Janes. The girl stopped just short of the gate, flanked on either side by her Familiars. "I need to report to Fudan for a medical, but I am happy to answer a few questions." Fudan's Vice Captain teased the crowd with a red-lipped smile, then chose to privilege the CCVC-1 crew. "How do you respond to rumours of your involvement in Burma's liberation?" A state-sanctioned reporter levitated a recording instrument toward the sorceress. "Serendipity and chance, an incidental affair which cost our team greatly." The girl's shoulders drooped. "Though the outcome has favoured humanity, we lost Kitty Liang, our Controller and our friend in the incident. Whatever good that may emerge from our victory, I dedicate it first and foremost to her memory." The journalists quickly jotted down her words. "You." Fudan's Void Sorceress next picked a young man in a newspaper cap. "Are allegations that you brutalised Seoul's Chaebol true? News from Seoul is that three of their members returned to the city's Tower." The girl lowered a hand as to scratch the faceless obsidian surface of her purring Void-creature. "Ah. Talk about a loaded question. No - Fudan was not involved in sending them back. During the competition, Seoul U engaged in bad faith tactics, actions that resulted in angering a local Land God, who then punished Seoul for their unlawful trespass. We were just lucky to be in the right place at the right time. That said, Fudan did indeed crush Seoul U in a two-on-three duel." Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. "Is it true that you bested a high-tier dragon-subtype Magical Beast in single combat?" Before answering, Fudan's Void Sorceress gathered both Familiars around her waist, attracting another shower of captured lightning. "I did, and the battle was arduous and hard-won." She smiled for the cameras. "It was a Naga, by the way, a brutish beast of many heads, tireless in its ferocity. Our triumph was thanks to the unique skills offered by my team members. A concerted effort, of which I played only a small part." "Miss Song! Will you be joining the PLA T—" "I am sorry, here's where we must part," Gwen apologised. "We have matters to attend to at the campus." Their subject then brought forward a petite Southeast Asian girl, as well as a stunning Russian the reporters recognised on record as Gwen Song's cousin. When all three stood side by side in sable, the journalists realised that the girls' choice of colour was for their aforementioned, deceased companion. Collectively, the girls bowed. The reporters parted respectfully, though not without a third tempest of lumen-pics. Both Walken and Fudan's Dean applauded the demonstration of humility and camaraderie when Gwen called the others to inform them of the dress code for the Press Conference, which would follow after Wen finished poking the girl's innards. Begrudgingly, Gwen had left Mayuree to accompany the others to Guanghua T2 while herself, Walken, Magus Kumiko and Luo joined Wen and Petra at the Cog-Chamber attached to Wen's Heilong Laboratory. After an exchange of social superficialities, they were ready to begin. "Gwen, follow my demonstration." Petra handed her an HDM crystal imbued with fire and what appeared to be a rod of steel. "Enchantment is a little different. We need to acclimatise the Sigil before we move onto biometrics." Obediently, Gwen palmed both items, looking for a slot to insert the crystal like a battery. "That's a pre-inscribed Glyph rod," Petra explained, amused by her cousin's clueless fidgeting, recalling that Gwen had come from a public high school. "All that's missing is the transfer invocation. It's only three Major incantations. Ready?" Wen punched in few Glyphs only she could see, activating the Cognisance illusion with a thrum while Petra baby-talked Gwen through the process. "How's the paper coming along?" the Dean entreated his top Gwenology researcher. "There's been a lot of interest from all three Factions." "With this, we can publish soon," Wen informed her employer, then held her breath while their subject aped her cousin's rudimentary Enchantment. "Watch." "Imbue!" Gwen commanded the rod in her hand. _Spak!_ The crystal shattered. "Too much mana!" Petra slapped the HDM out of her cousin's hand. "Careful! Are you alright?" "I am fine." Gwen shook her fingers, unharmed but for a spot of redness. "This is harder than it looks." "Enchantment is the most difficult School of Magic," Wen called out from afar. "The Glyph and inscription system was originally borrowed from Dwarven Runes and antiquated runic scripts." "Like English thrifting words from German and French," Gwen noted where she possibly could have gone wrong. From the sudden flare-up, she likely imagined the manifestation in the manner of one expecting Conjuration or Evocation. "Let's try again." Petra produced a water-imbed HDM this time. "This one's safer." "Alright." Gwen took account of both. "Follow my lead." Petra resumed her demonstration of guiding her mana through her conduits, explaining the arcane process of drawing Elemental energy into Glyphic arrays. "Imbue!" The crystal exploded, showering both Gwen and Petra with conjured water. "Getting better." Petra wiped away a face full of clear liquid, looking up to see Gwen tear-stained with squid-ink, both upset and discouraged. "Less mana, imagine an eye dropper, not a water hose." The duo succeeded on the fifth attempt. "If you activate your Enchantment and direct the mana here…" Petra demonstrated with the imbued rod, now looking worse for wear. "Water emerges where the quadragramic Mandala creates a small channel into the Elemental Plane of Water. A parallel Eikman's Circuit allows you to adjust the force, while these secondary Bravlovski's Nodes function as an on-off trigger…" Petra's unwitting jargon reminded Gwen of when the company's egg-heads were trying to teach her how to administrate the company's website. Very quickly, she realised her time was far better spent wining and dining clients than fiddling with IT. "Congratulations." Walken extended a hand to Wen. "It's done." "Can we confirm her metrics?" Luo found himself sweating profusely. "Important people need to be notified." "Petra!" Wen called out. "We're moving onto biometrics!" "Umm... are we not testing her Void Familiar?" Beside the Magisters, Magus Kumiko raised a demure hand. More and more, she felt drawn into some strange conspiracy. "If so, may I go?" Luo slapped his forehead. "My apologies, Magus Kumiko." The Dean dipped his chin. "Please proceed. Miss Song, is your Familiar ready?" Gwen's response was to conjure Caliban with a thought. More and more, her Familiar spell was attaining reflexive mastery. "Shaa!" Caliban slithered into being, happy to be out and about again after the showing in front of the press. "Shaa! Shaa!" Magus Kumiko meanwhile, set up her usual Summon Creature a safe distance away. "Summon Creature!" Where she had drawn the glyph array on the floor, an untethered Tusker Boar appeared, dragged through space and time, reformulated from the raw Essence of the Wildlands. "Caliban!" Gwen readied herself, noting the presence of Onibi behind her, ready to deliver whatever Positive Energy Magus Kumiko could spare. "Naga form!" “SHAAAA!” Caliban coiled then leapt toward the stunned porcine beast. As with its stag-transformation, its carapace split, weeping spurts of dark ichor as its serpent form perished. First, its midsection grew grotesquely pregnant, then with the likeness of a bloating balloon toy, the rest of its body elongated. Without warning, three heads mushroomed where one had existed, each coagulant with jostling chitin, forming faceless miens in the manner of bullets. A second later, with the force of a runaway carriage, Caliban rammed head-first into the cowering boar, bowling it to the floor. "ONSLAUGHT!" a shrill command filled the Cognisance Chamber. Magister Wen's fingers blurred as she annotated the recording. "SHAA!" Caliban's armoured heads began to split; from each lamprey-lip erupted a mass of tendrils and tentacles, some with the likeness of bloodworms, others more akin to squid tentacles barbed with hooked-teeth. The porcine beast's squeals reached a new feverish pitch, mirroring the harrowing discomfort felt by Gwen's advisors until finally, the noise cut short with a gurgling whimper. The demonstration had lasted no more than half a minute, but already Magus Kumiko found herself sick twice over, exacerbated by Onibi's mass transfer of her Positive-charged mana into Fudan's headlining sorceress. When the monster snapped itself shut, she found herself heaving yet again. "How is it?" Wen wetted her pencil-thin lips. "Compared to the Stag or the Gila?" "I don't think the Naga-form is usable without support, or a great deal of excess vitality," Gwen confessed. "When the heads came out, I could hardly move." Stoically, Wen then requested defence data, which Gwen consented for both Spellcraft and her personal curiosity. "Crystalline Spear!" In quick succession, a dozen projectiles, almost ethereal, struck Caliban's carapace, driving it backwards and tearing off a chunk of bloody chitin. "How is it?" Walken looked over Wen's shoulder. "Much tougher," Wen remarked, moving away. Gwen took a deep breath while she massaged her ribs. Though Caliban took the damage, their empathy had grown more intimate. "My turn. Gwen, are you ready?" Walken raised a finger. "Go ahead." "Lightning Bolt!" She flinched as Walken's spell singed Caliban's carapace. "Draconic resistance?" Wen remarked. "I think so," the Dean agreed. "Walken?" "I concur." Walken beckoned Caliban to slither closer, then fed the beast three HDMs, one for each head. "Usually, Caliban is weak to oppositional elements. See the scuff here? I think it repelled some of the lightning. Fascinating! It looks like Marie has her work cut out." "Shaa!" Caliban waved its three heads. "I'd imagined more heads." Luo walked a circle around her Familiar, offering his tithing. "Five-plus-one, wasn't it?" "I don't think I have the vitality," Gwen offered her thanks to Onibi and its master. "Thank you, Ma'am, for always helping us." "You should take care," Kumiko warned her student. "If that had been anyone but you, they would have lost consciousness. I think the more heads you conjure, the more it taxes your body, and the more powerful your creature becomes." "She could probably manage four if she had a mind to." Wen tapped her tablet. Heedless of Gwen's clammy complexion nor her colleague's disapproving expressions. "Now, let us obtain some stats." At Wen's private laboratory in the Heilong building, Gwen sat on a bench, wrapped in a towel while her new biometrics were printed out. "Looks like we've got a disproportional increase in Evocation and Transmutation, in addition to Enchantment as a new metric." Wen, Luo and Walken crowded around the scripts as they emerged, with Wen reading out the results. "Here they are…" "Evocation 5.31." "Conjuration 5.80." "Transmutation 3.75." "Abjuration 2.54." "Divination 1.67." "Illusion 2.45." "Enchantment 1.30." A collective exhalation resounded, leaving Gwen to gape in shock-horror at the unexpected boost in both Evocation and Transmutation. "Gwen?" Petra reached her side, noting the sudden change in her cousin's body language. "Are you alright?" "I..." Gwen fanned herself with a hand. "I just… I need a moment." "Your VMI is now on record as 302 from 254." Wen looked up. "Had a good meal? There should be diminishing returns, according to our studies. You said there was one Mage who was Consumed, who are the others?" "Alright, that's enough." Walken stepped in between the researcher and the two girls. "Nominal increases, about 0.2 in both elements, impressive but nothing out of the ordinary. 6.67 and 4.51. There's still a way to go." Wen exhaled with exasperation. "Wasting opportunities is most unbecoming if you're serious about winning." When Gwen confronted Wen's critical eyes with her bloodshot orbs, the Magister dutifully pursed her lips. "Need I remind you we have a conference later?" The Dean cut in before the academic could dig herself deeper. "Petra, I think Gwen could use some fresh air before the conference." Seeing that her cousin looked about ready to snap, Petra happily obliged. "Go take a break, but don't leave the campus." Luo ushered the two girls out of Wen's laboratory. "There's a few hours still. Get some food, get something to drink, and get Gwen cleaned up. I am counting on you- Fudan is counting on you." With the girls gone, The three Magisters each took up their poisons. Magister Wen had initially procured water, though realising the sanctity of the moment, she accepted Walken's thimble of eighteen-year-old single-malt. "First, a toast." Walken raised his glass. "To our girl of many talents." The three clinked. "I need more data." Wen wasted no time in speaking her mind. "Her team is down a member, isn't she? Take Petra. She's been taught the right mix of contingencies to deal with matters in Europe, she's a registered Mind Mage, and she's still below the age restriction." "That's not a bad idea, actually," Walken agreed. "Gwen's one weakness would be against Mind Magic. Certainly, there's potential." "I'll lodge the request." Luo raised his glass. The three clinked. "So, I am assuming we're all thinking the same thing: an Omni-Mage at last." Wen turned crimson from the spirit. "How shall she thank us in the future?" "I'd be delighted if she doesn't purge the three of us," Walken snorted. "Why would she?" Wen turned her cup, frowning bemusedly. "We made her. I taught her the theory. I unclouded her fear of the Void, made it into an exact science. My apprentice, Petra, filled her empty little brain with knowledge. Shouldn't she be grateful?" "Ah- Marie." Walken shook his head. "That's why you're a researcher and not a politician. You've got less empathy than that girl has in her little finger. We're all benefiting from her ascension; you have to remember. She doesn't owe us anything. We're tagalongs, parasites, enablers of her appetites. Who knows how or what she would think or do in the future?" "But she's a nice lass." The Dean licked his lips apprehensively. "Even the death of a house slave was enough to drive her wild. How many of us could manage that?" "That's because she hasn't tasted the bitter pill of power." Walken chuckled. "Her type is especially prone. The power of sovereignty is fraught with temptation, after all. An Omni-Mage? More like a walking invitation to conflict and disaster! Can you imagine it? Our bumbling Gwen, saving her 'Mates' but abandoning a city to be ravaged, or perhaps vice-versa... Once, twice, it takes a toll…" Walken tapped his forehead. "...if and when it happens, and it will happen - she won't be able to sleep. She'll drink to excess, and then she'll get over it. Then it happens again, and the cycle repeats, only the refraction period grow shorter. It starts with this Kitty, and then who? Petra? Mayuree? Richard? After a decade pursuing influence and power, sacrifice becomes business as usual. So long as your family, your friends, your clan, your Tower, your Faction benefits, the means justify the ends." "I am happy to say I did not ever enjoy that much privilege." Luo slugged back the thimble. "She's such a do-gooder. And she's neither greedy nor power-hungry, you never know..." The others nursed their cups. "None of that matters to me." Wen ran a hand over Gwen's bio-metric scripts. "I want to see the Übermensch. I want to see Void Magic prosper. I want to be referenced in every paper and every journal. If I can have that, she can Consume me for all I care. A creation consuming its creator is rather poetic, don't you think?" "I envy the simplicity of your fervour." Walken refilled their glasses. "I really do." "I'll drink to that." Luo lifted his tumbler. "As for now, let's head to the conference, shall we?"

Though her nerves remained a wreck from the affirmation of Kitty's demise, Gwen knew there was a time for self-loathing, and a time to put on a happy face. In her old corporate world, an ambitious woman must always keep up outward appearances, and so by the time she and Petra had arrived at the auditorium's backstage, Gwen had meticulously prepared a flawless face to meet the press. "Gwen! How've you been?" Anita was the first to break ranks when she saw Petra, her whole face lighting up like a lumen-globe. "Ah- Miss Kuznetsova! It's an honour. Your work with crystal spell-storage is astounding!" "Mao! Miss Kutznetsova?" Jiro appeared a split-second later. "Hi, Jiro Peng, I've been a fan of yours since my first-year!" With constrained politeness, Petra made small talk with her admirers while her captain accosted Gwen for an update. "Lulu and Dick are finishing up at T2. They'll be with us soon," Gwen assured her leader. "How's it looking out there?" "A few hundred reporters, with CCVC 1 front and centre, flanked by the foreign press, followed by the regional broadcasters, then the independent press. There are likely Tower Magisters in the VIP, not to mention Party officials from Central." "Woo-" Gwen whistled. "Tough gig." "Ha!" Tei smirked. "They're here for Fudan in name only. I dare say they're here to witness Yangon's liberator." "Not tonight they're not." She indicated her teammates. "Lulan fought the Naga too, Eunae kicked ass in the duel, you fended off two teams of Mages from the back of a convoy, Richard diverted streams to save La War..." "Alright, alright..." Tei sighed appreciatively. "I get it." Having heard Gwen rattling off their names, the others joined the conversation. "I am so nervous, I can't breathe." Eunae paced back and forth. "What do you think they're going to ask? I saw some Korean journalists earlier!" "Probably about how good it felt to thrash your family." Gwen patted her Cleric on the head. "As for nerves, we're all tense. Right? Tei?" "I don't know." Her captain grinned. "I am not the one who has to describe how I fought off a mythic Naga." "I didn't though," Gwen pointed out. "The dragon took it down." "Tell that the propaganda corps." Her Captain shook his head. "We have thirty minutes until the national broadcast finishes, do you need to meditate? You look tired." "I'll be fine." Gwen gingerly sipped her bottled-water through a straw as to preserve her perfectly pencilled lipstick. Sliding one foot over the other, she shook out her stiffening calves, causing Jiro to drop his jaws and Rene to punch him in the arm, eliciting a round of collective laughter. "Tei..." Gwen packed her ambivalence in a box and moved onto more commercial matters. "...has anyone ever taught you about the power of branding?" Lulan, Kusu and Richard arrived half an hour later, whereupon attendants ushered them into the dressing room before stripping then dressing the duo in black. Having affirmed Gwen's sentiment for Kitty, the team collectively wore sable, with the girls in assorted attires and the boys in dark pants and blazers. Additionally, Tei had brought armbands for all of them to signify that they were in mourning. Standing in a line, Fudan's team resembled a trendy troop of fascist fashionistas ready to model funeral couture. Yet, despite the dour attire, the atmosphere remained jovial. From the rear, Jiro and Rene jested and joked with a jittery Anita. Lulan and Eunae studied patterns on the floor, terrified by eyeballs that would soon pin them to the wall. In front of her, Tei stood rigid as a statue, while Richard appeared lost in thought, staring in the middle distance. In truth, it was only she and Mayuree who felt genuine grief for the passing of Kitty, while the other's sadness manifested as appeasement, enduring the inconvenience of mourning out of respect for their feelings. Gwen sighed silently, weighing the sincerity of her malaise, questioning if her upset was genuine. The music in the hall ceased. "NOW!" the voice of Dean Luo could be heard. "Please welcome our contestants for the 2004 IIUC, Team Fudan!" "Gwen." Tei made himself taller, though he remained half-a-head shorter than his heeled Vice Captain. "Focus." "I am right behind you," Richard made his presence known. "I know." The Void-sorceress fixed the envious length of her swan-white neck. "The show must go on." A barrage of lumen-cores burst into brilliant action, bombarding the students as they entered Guanghua Auditorium, a place usually reserved for esteemed lecturers from foreign universities and state dignitaries. When the curtains to the side-stage parted, thunderous applause filled the generous space of the vaulted hall, welcoming the heroic victors of Fudan's first victorious assembly in more than a decade. First was the captain, Tei Bai, with his gaunt face and prim posture, every inch the Captain of the team, radiating an aura of reliability as he performed a militant face-forward, then bowed from the waist. Next came the Vice Captain, triggering a fusillade of blasting-bulbs as she placed one white stalk before the other, crow-black from her hair to the hips and again where the lens kissed her clacking heels. After which was the tallest of the men, cousin to the Void Sorceress, a Eurasian Water Mage confident as a prize-winning hound, grinning like a wolf. Then came a trio of demure girls unnerved by the attention, walking in such proximity that their Dean intervened to distance them so that the reporters could have their individual body-shots. Behind the stalking trio was Rene with her grey blouse and dark jacket, cutting a curt figure as she strode across the stage, commanding as she grinned for the adoring crowd. Anita followed, leather-jacketed, wearing a black singlet and midnight-grey combat pants, steel-toed and dressed for war as she thudded across the hardwood floor, waving happily. The final member was Jiro, pearly teeth flashing, gleaming and radiant, trailed by motes of fire that brightly hinted at his blazing nerves. Nine were the members of Fudan that stood in front of their assigned seats, leaving the final seat empty. "All rise!" the Dean commanded, and all who had the conscience to show respect for the dead rose from their chairs. "We shall begin…" the Dean met Gwen's eyes with a subtle nod, surprising her with his understanding and empathy. "… with a minute of silence." "Gunther! COME ON!" Alesia coiled her legs so that she was curled like a comfortable cat on the oversized couch. "It's starting!" "Just a sec." Gunther passed his hand over the array of petite-fours and freshly-cut fruits, then dried his hand on the kitchen towel. At Alesia's behest, he had grudgingly cleared his timetable, dislodging his endless schedule of meetings, inspections and reports. On the far wall, the enormous lumen-caster Alesia had installed especially for the occasion was bustling with life, rapidly scrolling through a montage of logos representing the many competing universities in the on-going International Inter-University Competition. During the preliminary rounds, the broadcasts were regional, and so it was with great effort and an exorbitant cost in HDMs that Alesia had managed to route the Chinese program through their contacts in Singapore, through to Darwin, through to Brisbane and then to Sydney. A feat made possible only because Gunther had hastened the construction of the supercell Divination Engine atop Sydney's repaired Tower. In the seventeen months since Gwen had left for Singapore and then was shanghaied to Shanghai, Sydney had made leaps and bounds in recovering from the Mermen invasion. When the Leviathan's senseless carcass had smashed its way into Sydney harbour and wedged itself at Darling Point, it had left a wealth of resources for the recovering city. Though Gunther's strategic-class invocation had guillotined the creature, its body remained very much vital, sustained by a macro-system of brain-like organs and Cores that existed throughout its island-sized body, forming a living Dungeon of sorts. For three more months, the Brisbane Tower and the Melbourne Tower had remained at Sydney, oversupplying the city's cache of construction Golems and utility Mages. Together, the three Towers cleared debris, exterminated surviving Mermen and enabled the city's reconstruction. Two months in, Gunther, aided by Tower Master Fei Lin of Brisbane and Guldric Uther of Melbourne, managed to retrieve the head of the Leviathan from the depth of the harbour, reclaiming an enormous Creature Core fit for a Tower. As Sydney's Tower Core had been left intact thanks to Gwen's timely intervention, Gunther consequently traded the Core back to the Mageocracy for CCs. The windfall of Contribution Credits was then exchanged for strategic commodities and experienced staff, furthermore expediting the city's recovery. Another month onward, loaded with loot from the Leviathan's divided remains, Sydney's sister Towers returned to their coastal homes, with the Tower Masters bidding their new colleague goodbye. It was at this junction that Gunther received the honorary title of Magister from the Mageocracy, who then urged him to complete the Rite, an inconvenience which Gunther had bypassed while serving his Master, Henry Kilroy. And so, after a grudging concession, the newly minted Magister Gunther von Shultz returned to his work with renewed zeal. All throughout the city, new high-rises rose like mushrooms after autumn showers. Outside Sydney's metropolis, refugees awaited resettlement. Within the urbanscape, Gunther's Arbiters were inundated with claims of lost property from ex-residents looking to not only return to their life in the city but with hopes of profiteering. Worse still, dictated by the ugliness of human nature, waves of crime, unrest, riots and even small pockets of illicit claims of sovereignty inundated Sydney's security forces, unnecessarily complicating the restoration. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. More than once, Gunther had to deliver the verdict of his office in a personal capacity, either through himself or through Alesia. As for the long-term aftermath of the Mermen's incursion, raids up and down the coast continued throughout the next twelve months, sending Alesia and her apprentice almost perpetually away from home, working Sydney's new militia to the bone. Concurrently, hostage trading with the South Pacific factions of Mermen had been carried out by the Grey Faction, though more often than not, the mental state of men and women who returned to Humanity's fold were beyond the help of restorative magic. But despite everything, real progress had been made. The coastal Shielding Station had been reconfigured and a new system of checks and balances implemented. The Tower itself saw a swift six-month renovation and restoration before spending the next six months floating between North Head and Watson Bay, cowing any and all ambitious demi-human tribes. Once the Leviathan was dismantled, the newly formed channel it had created furthermore allowed for the construction of a deepwater port, doubling the city's capacity for cargo carriers. New train tracks and tramways were built. Parts of old Sydney, districts like Blackheath and Root Hill which had long been in decline, were re-zoned for better housing capacity and utility access. Citizenship grants were likewise sent out to attract skilled migrants, while rural regions were re-connected through an expansion of inland Shielding Forts. As a little side project, Gunther had allocated additional funds to Blackwattle High School, Gwen's old haunt, making it a Selective Academy. It soon received a new campus dedicated to the teaching of Magic, doubling its training capacity. Principal Bartlett, perhaps in a twist of ill humour, had named the new oval "Gwen's Field" in commemoration of the fact that Blackwattle had expanded in part to Gwen's serendipitous efforts. In turn with the city's restoration, Oceana's Factional disputes had settled in Gunther's favour. Irene Ferris, now an ally, presided over what remained of the Grey Market. The Militant Faction was likewise satisfied with harvesting the Leviathan and exterminating the surviving Mermen, leaving Gunther's Middle Faction in control of Sydney. "Ooo, look at that!" Alesia puffed out her chest. "Our little girl's gotten fatter! Ha! I knew it! The food in Shanghai must be something else." Gunther took up a spot just on the edge of the cashmere couch, unused to entirely relaxing his body, then reproduced the fruits and cakes he had prepared. "She's looking hale," Gunther affirmed his fiancée's observation while fondling a pear. In his memory, Gwen had been a bony lass of sorts, appearing perpetually underfed until their last encounter, where she had received a vital jolt from that ancient and unknowable existence. The Gwen that now appeared on the lumen screen together with Chinese characters introducing her was bright-eyed and confident, with an air of arrogance and haughtiness she previously lacked. When Gunther had first seen the girl, she had appeared a puppy ready to please. When he had rescued her at Blackheath, Gwen had been half-mad with terror. At Rosebay, she had arrived like an avenging goddess. Now, she was merely in her element. When the lumen-recorder trained onto Richard, Gunther recalled the duty he had left Gwen's cousin before sending him to Shanghai. The young man possessed a particular focus which, properly directed, was enough for Gunther to promise a Tower position in the event of his return. "I don't give a shit who these others are!" Alesia grumbled at the wall. "Want more Gwen! Why are they wearing all black?" As with most Chinese programs, the producers emphasised a by-the-numbers approach, beginning with introducing the contestants, Fudan's history, a short interview with the Dean of Fudan, then moving onto their opponents, Seoul University, Kyoto University, and finally Jiantong University. What followed was a short special on Burma, with details of the Frontier's geopolitics that Gunther knew, were now woefully outdated. "Bloody hell, it has been an hour, and we've seen Gwen for twenty seconds!" Alesia complained, munching on a sausage roll. "Patience." Gunther stole a bite, brushing Alesia's lips free of crumbs. "I have it on good authority that we will be seeing her plenty." And they did, for even Chinese propaganda knew a good thing when they saw it. Gwen's first moment of spotlight came in Yangon, in a building called the Secretariat, where she challenged Seoul U's three best casters from the Lee family to a duel. What spiced up the scene was the spliced footage of a Seoul contestant abusing Fudan's healer, a Korean girl, followed by Gwen's verbal, then physical reprisal. "FUCK YEAH, GWENNIE!" Alesia hooted when Gwen slapped the young man so hard that even Gunther winced. "She's absurdly strong, did you notice?" Gunther recalled the reports he'd been receiving from Fudan. "That was some force." "Brilliant, bloody brilliant! Good work, Gwennie!" Alesia waved at the lumen-caster as though their sister-in-craft was in direct communication. "Did you see that, Gunther?" Gunther humoured his lover with an affirmative. The next scene to involve their intrepid sister-in-craft was her halting her flight northward to save a village that had been swallowed by a landslide, followed by a close up of the emotional faces of her teammates and the grateful villagers kowtowing to the student Mages. They left out the critical footage! Gunther amused himself with the uproar Gwen had caused in the Grey Faction, who planned to question her regarding the method she had used to revive the dead woman. If Gunther had to guess, it probably had less to do with what she did, then what Essence she had channelled from the Rainbow Serpent. "FUCKING SEOUL! Blackguards! Scum of the earth!" Alesia almost threw her glass toward the caster when Gwen caught the Seoul member plotting to flood their village. When her Caliban wounded the young man, forcing him to use a short-ranged Teleportation Ring, Alesia broke into gleeful, sadistic snickers of "Gotcha, arsehole!" Gunther had to admit, the girl was doing very well. Sending her to Shanghai had turned out to be a far better ordeal than he'd hoped. "OI, YOU FUCKERS!" Alesia soon splattered the wall with a half-bitten orange when Seoul's magma giant almost took out Gwen's team. When a Cloud Kill choked their sister-in-craft, forcing her to remain within melee range of the conjured Elemental, Alesia had half-a-mind to pay Seoul U a visit through the Teleportation Circle they had in the apartment's hidden room. "Calm down." Gunther pulled her close as to save the fruit platter. "She's got this." When a Thunder Wyvern appeared from nowhere to demolish Seoul U, Alesia burst into uncontrollable glee, pinching and punching Gunther so hard that he had to push her out of arm's reach. After which, more and more, their sister-in-craft shined, first with her diplomacy, then her command of accounting, then her exposure of the corruption in the mines, then her impeccable management of the NoMs, indeed, there appeared to be nothing the girl could not do. At Indaw, Fudan's party was ambushed, and again Gwen showcased her Lightning and Void Magic, taking down a tier 8 Naga with the help of her friends, consuming the creature with Caliban. Unfortunately, that was when the footage ended. What followed was a sequence featuring the IIUC's chief proctor, a Magister who Gunther recognised as Lutz von Schlabrendorff, appearing to explain events that lead to Yangon's independence. He apologised for the lack of records on Gwen's battle with an entity called the Tyrant, citing classified and privileged information, then narrated the girl's titanic struggle with the beast, which resulted ultimately in a regime change that led to the re-entry of the Mageocracy into Burma. Finally, the scene changed to an auditorium, where after yet more speeches, a Chinese General thanked Fudan for their contribution. For this and Fudan's other achievements, the university received a total Contribution Credit rating of 3310 CCs, a new record for the Asian competition. Due to the immeasurable nature of Fudan's contribution to Burma's recovery, the team had also been granted a seeded position representing Asia in the international portion of the competition. Fudan's Captain, a Clanner called Tei Bai, then gave a speech, citing his love of the Party, his gratefulness to his family, and his gratitude to Fudan. When it came to Gwen's turn, the green-eyed beauty thanked her friends, her family, her university, the Tower, the House of M, then added a little something that made Gunther smile. "Everyone in Australia, if you're watching, I am only here today because of your support! I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart!" "Oh, Gunther, I am so happy!" Alesia was half-laughing, half weeping. "Gwen's all grown up!" "Yue's not doing half-bad herself," Gunther reminded her. "She's going to be jealous if you keep talking about Gwen like that." "No way!" Alesia denied her favouritism vehemently. "Yue's our baby!" Gunther almost choked on a date. In recent months, Yue had been busy working toward her immutable reunion with Gwen. Alesia had placed such hope in the girl that when Gunther had located an appropriate Flame Spirit through a spendthrift session of throwing CCs at the Mageocracy's Tower network, his sometimes sister, sometimes queen gifted the Spirit to her apprentice. It was an astounding gesture, though certainly Yue needed a boost if she wanted to stand beside her friend in the future. His wife's apprentice was talented in the pursuit of the Path, but there were human limits to diligence. "…. oh yes, I am very proud of her." A familiar voice suddenly drifted through the air, followed by a zoomed close up of a weaselly face covering half the lumen-projection, a visage that Gunther had previously banished from Sydney. On stage, Gwen approached Fudan's Dean, then bowed and kissed the old man on the cheek. She then turned to her instructor, a man both Gunther and Alesia knew, delivering a bow and hug to the sound of palms clamouring for more. When the duo finally parted and the close-up panned away, Gunther felt his entire back drenched in cold sweat. Feeling a catastrophic, Mythic-grade danger engender beside him, Gunther stole a glance at his fiancée. Alesia's blue eyes were the size of hen's eggs. __Scheiße!__ Gunther swore internally. He had been so busy, and his time with Alesia had been so scarce that he had entirely forgotten to ease her into the knowledge of Gwen's tutor. "Did I just see that?" Alesia mouthed at the lumen projector. Then suddenly, the Fire Magus exploded. "WHAT THE FUCK? WHY IS THAT FUCKER IN SHANGHAI?" For Gunther, the wide blue yonder outside suddenly beckoned. He needed no teleportation circles to move about the city. As Tower Master, he alone had a unilateral right of movement throughout Sydney's domain. Alesia's tightly-wound figure began to shake, her whole body shivered with rage as she stomped about the room, biting one thumb and glancing about wildly for something to kill. _Scheiße! Scheiße! Scheiße!_ Gunther's heart sank. When Alesia was like this, there was no stopping her. "I need to go to Shanghai," she muttered under her breath. "Gunther, get me authorisation. I am going to end that piece of shit once and for all. He's using her! After he got Master, he's sinking his fucking teeth into Gwen! I don't give a shit what the Tower announced. Letting Walken live was a mistake." "Alesia." Gunther swallowed. "What?" the Fire Mage snapped, shedding embers from her hair. "Don't tell me you had something to do with this?" "Ah…" the Tower Master of Sydney, Slayer of Leviathans, a Mage without peer in Oceania quailed under the accusatory glare of his wife-to-be. "Not exactly." "Whose idea was it?" Alesia demanded. "Not yours?" I have to tell the truth! Gunther felt his righteous mind instilling the Credo that Kilroy had drilled into him. "It was Gwen's." Gunther felt physical pain as the white lie left his lips. He promised to repay Gwen tenfold when the opportunity came, though for now, he could think only of his selfish survival of Alesia's wrath. "She needed a higher tier Lightning Creature Mage to instruct her, and Walken had volunteered. After a good talking to, she managed to convince me." "Oh…" Alesia's eyes moistened. "She went to Walken? After what that CUNT did to our Master? After Sydney? AND YOU AGREED?" "Don't put it like that…" Gunther spluttered. "It's an exchange of services, no more." "He hugged her, you bastard!" To Gunther's surprise, Alesia began to sob. "He was touching her. I am not blind, Gunther! I know what I saw!" "Gwen's a friendly gal!" Gunther explained. "She's handsy..." "HE KILLED MASTER!" "Actually…" Gunther wanted to say that, having lost his position, power, and influence and wasted half-a-century of his life, Walken had paid for his transgression. However, a single glare from Alesia was enough to snap Gunther's lips tighter than an Ironshell Mimic's lid. The two stood in silence, a rock quietly biding its time beside a raging fire tornado. Alesia choked back a sob. Sensing a lull in her violent anger, Gunther reached out with a hand to wipe a tear from Alesia's well-loved eyes. "I am going to Shanghai," she said, batting away his hand. "I need to talk to Gwen, face to face. I am going to put some sense into her." "I don't think that's a good idea." Gunther returned. "She's going to go to the international portion of the competition soon. You'll likely miss her." "I don't care, I am not letting Walken near her, not for another minute more." Alesia wiped her eyes. When she looked up, her orbs were full of fire and defiance. "Are we on the same page, Gunther?" Gunther gave her a wilted expression of resignation. "Don't look at me like that!" Alesia growled. "I hate it when you do that! You know it!" Gunther studied the ceiling. "God damn it, Gunther! Look at me when I am talking to you!" Gunther's shoulders drooped. "Get me authorisation to travel." "Yes, dear." "I am teleporting the whole way." "Yes, dear." "Don't tell Gwen!" "Yes, dear." "Today! Tomorrow! As soon as possible!" "Absolutely." He nodded, whispering a prayer for their youngest sister-in-craft. "It'll take a week at the earliest..." "Tell Yue I'll be gone." Alesia levitated towards her wardrobe on the second level. "Are we going to finish watching this?" Gunther struck a thumb at the lumen-caster, realising his future labours were likely to be worse. "I should get back to work." "THEN FUCK OFF!" his answer came in the form of his jacket, indicating that for the foreseeable future, he would not be hugging his hot water bottle body to sleep. "Go fuck your Tower, you traitor!"

Richard was of two minds. A few days after the press had stripped every shred of credible information from Fudan's infamous sorceress, he received his long-awaited CCs. As an unexpected boon for acquiring Mandalay, Dean Luo generously informed the contestants that the PLA furthermore contributed an additional 169 CCs to round their total to 500. Which incidentally brought Richard's contributions to 1340 CCs. Arguably, his Gwen-gambit had paid off more than he could have ever hoped. However, the dangers he was facing were concurrently above and beyond anything he could have imagined. His cousin bred trouble; he knew that, but to be trafficking with dragons, bargaining with demi-gods and slaying Nagas? He would like to attend their next round with no regrets. "Gwen, can I talk to you for a minute?" Richard felt tongue-tied as he made his case. Ever since his earliest days at Prince's, he had cherished the sanctity of his independence, which made his outlandish request ever more uncertain. "Sure." His cousin yawned against the kitchen chair, so defenceless and overtrusting that Richard had to look away. "I need a favour," he said awkwardly. "If you're willing to grant it." "Of course, Dick." Gwen curled her legs, then scrutinised his face with bemusement. "What can I do for ya?" Am I that unnatural? Richard stopped himself from adjusting his facial muscles less he appeared yet queerer. Richard cleared his throat. "Do you have 1000 CCs right now?" His cousin blinked away her sleepiness. "I've just reached 1340 CCs with our gains from the IIUC," Richard explained. "But I can only bring over one of my parents. That and we're going to be in a lot of danger moving forward, so I would like a favour to set my mind at ease - so I can be of use without reserve." "Ah." A look of realisation dawned on Gwen's face. Her eyes softened. "Shall we go check? Right now?" "Please." Richard put on a smile. "I want to migrate Kwan and Tali at the same time." "Aww." Gwen reached in and gave him a warm hug about the shoulders, filling his nostrils with the scent of shampoo. In truth, being touched was something Richard loathed, though Gwen's tactile habits had since grown on him. "You don't have to be so awkward. I haven't seen you like this in so long!" "I know you're not fond of them." "Richard." His cousin pulled herself away. "Don't be ridiculous! Let me get changed." When she returned, Gwen had attired herself in a long-sleeve tee and ankle pants, hiding her face and hair with a cap. They then made for T2 at the Guanghua Towers, bypassing the paparazzi hanging about Fudan B1 by jumping over the barrier fence. At T2, however, there was no masking her identity. "You have 1230 CCs." An enamoured clerk exchanged his discretion for an autograph. "Would you like to see the spell-list?" "Thanks, not right now." Fudan's headliner awarded the young man a winning smile before returning to a private room with Richard, who realised the broadcast showing her dogs tearing apart the Naga must have triggered an exponential demand for Morden's Hound. "Who should I bring over?" she smiled at him. "Mum or dad?" "Aren't there any spells you need?" Richard returned. "I seem to recall you needed Abjuration spells, not to mention Enchantment and new Evocation incantations." "I'll fish them off Walken," Gwen smirked haughtily. "Come on. I thought immigration was your top priority, don't go soft on me now, big guy." "You're my number one priority." Richard brushed off the double entendre. "I bet you tell all the girls that." Gwen burst into laughter. His cousin then hugged him so tightly that he could hear his heart beating with honest anticipation. "Congratulations, Richard." Richard clasped his cousin's shoulders. The acquisition of 1000 CCs had taken him the better part of a year. Additionally, he had risked life and limb and sleep to purchase a condo near the second orbital ring for his parents, as well as enough crystals to restart their lives in Shanghai. With his Kwan and Tali settled, his filial debt would be repaid, and he would be free. "I am happy for you." Gwen's voice played beside his cheeks. "I mean it." He returned her blessing by raising and kissing her hand, something the Mageocracy taught as a part of its formalised doctrine. "Well…" Gwen picked up her Message Device. "Shall we eat something to celebrate?" Lulan found her cousin Jinwei standing politely by the training hall like a lost dog. After her acquisition of her Spirit, she had hardly left the Force Cage except to eat. "Senior Li!" the young sorceress uttered in surprise. "What are you doing here?" "Playing message boy." Her usually arrogant cousin's face was full of politeness, so much so that goosebumps appeared on her thighs. "I am going to be straight with you. The Clan would like to offer Kusu and yourself support. Not as a part of the Sect, but as family. With the advice your Captain gifted us, we hope for your understanding. Besides, Uncle Li misses his children." "Advice?" Lulan cocked her head, ignoring the comment about her father. She knew that Gwen had told Captain Bai to speak to her Clan, but had been too preoccupied with her new Spirit. "She said you're going to be our brand ambassador." Jinwei appeared equally flustered. "You're going to represent us on the international stage." "Huh?" Lulan minced the word between her lips. "I am doing it for Gwen though, not for Huashan." "But you'll be representing us." Jinwei baulked at Lulan's brutal honesty. "By exhibiting Huashan's skills." "I don't care about that." Lulan shrugged. Jinwei fought to keep his eye from twitching. "Of course." He opened his palm to reveal a jade pendant. "This will allow you entry into our branch in Taicang, south of Nantong. Patriarch Dulian Li has said that if as long as you keep up the good fight, we're happy to open the Iron Hall to you and Kusu so that you can continue your studies." "The Inner Hall?!" Lulan's ears perked up. "With the Clan's higher-tier techniques?" "Er... yes," Jinwei affirmed her rhetorical question. "Additionally, regarding Nantong, if you could put in a word with Miss Song, the Patriarch's generosity would be boundless." "Alright." His cousin eyed him up and down. "Shixiong, Can I ask for a favour as well?" "Of course." Jinwei exhaled, finally relaxing. "What-" Suddenly, a grip of iron took Jinwei by the wrist and pulled him into the training hall. "If you want me to talk to Gwen, then fight me!" Lulan's toothy grin made him suddenly nervous. "Make me spew, or I am not telling her!" Dai Fung had a dilemma. Ever since he had graduated from university, he had never thought that there would come a day when he'd worry about not having done his homework. And yet, here he was, fearful of losing the good opinion of a girl almost five years his junior. When he had returned to Nantong to deliver the good news of the funding he had secured, his father had patted him on the back, then additionally bestowed him the thankless task of dealing with a conspiracy of secretariat officials from Central. "Beijing wants to up-scale stage two; that or arranging for the schedule to be pushed up," a bespectacled official informed him. "We are looking forward to your continued expertise, Mr Fung." Immediately, Dai knew he was twelve miles in the Front and knee deep in Undead. Since Gwen's departure, with a Centurion card in hand, he had wined, dined, partied, kissed ass and had his ass kissed in return by Shanghai's high society, but he had done minimal paperwork. And so, upon hearing that their dragon-lady was no longer in a dour mood, he hastened back to the office with a large bouquet of rare and expensive flowers. "Too risky, never intervene when a project is running smoothly." Gwen listened to Ruì annotate Dai's report, followed by the statements from central. Not far from the duo, Caliban munched on the flowers. "Tell them no." "I don't think that's an option." The young man kept a respectful distance. No matter how tantalising the sorceress's delicious visage, what had begun as desire had transformed into admiration, then dread. "Our orders are to expand or expedite." "YOUR orders. If so, then expand," Dai's boss's answer came without hesitation. "But it takes time to survey the land, clear the monsters, relocate the NoMs- about as much time as it takes for Stage 2's nominal time frame." "But the report…" "Easy, inject an estimate three-year projection in the annual report, with a provision for the delay. Prime our creditors with a twelve-month clause for their lending, if they pre-settle, offer a minimal rate of interest, for those willing to delay settlement, offer a guarantee of purchase, option the deposit with a six-month delay." Ruì made furious scribbles into a data slate while Dai tried his best to catch up to Gwen's train of thought. Maybe she could be more convincing. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. "Some of the committee members from Central would like to speak with you if you could make a trip to Nantong…" "Denied." Gwen shook her head, tapping her fountain pen against a balance book. "Tell them it's a conflict of interest, tell them I am on thin ice. Tell them General Secretary Miao would like to have a word if they insist." "Why would Secretary Miao be interested in this?" "Maybe they can call and find out." He watched her lips curl. "October is upon us, and my international round starts in November, which brings me to our next point. Why are these reports coming to me? I thought you and Ken are taking over matters in Shanghai?" Dai appeared lost for words. It wasn't as though he could say he still had no idea how all this worked. "Ruì?" "Master Fung is trying his best, Ma'am," Ruì attempted to dispel their CFO's mounting displeasure with diplomacy. "He's doing very well in securing additional funding." "By not checking accounts and making sure no one is stealing from us." Gwen's accusation struck Dai's fear right in the flesh. "Ken?" "Yes, Ma'am?" Ken materialised beside Dai. "What's the latest quarterly from Chief Ma?" "Two members discharged from the board and er- forty or so from middle management, ten from central division, plus the usual on-site issues with shoddy materials, boundary marking and labour abuses." "Losses?" "About 120,000 HDMs, Ma'am." Dai noticed Ken glancing at him, causing his face to flush. "And how much has Mr Fung brought in for us?" "About 400,000 HDMs in future investments are pledged. About a quarter have signed with Tonglv." "Now." Their boss shifted in her swivel chair. "How many of those that Dai brought in were involved in defrauding the treasury, making a quick buck on land sales and scamming our inventory?" Ken choked. "Ma'am?" "The answer is about half." The ice maiden tapped a report stubbed so excessively that it was almost twice the thickness. "Dai, what are you bringing into Tonglv? How do you even hope to double the expansion when your net gain for your father's state-sanctioned enterprise after six-months is less than what I could make in a month?" Ruì almost swooned as the numbers unravelled itself. "How could I know?" Dai protested. Was he supposed to read the reports weekly or what? Who had time for that? His missus boss lifted herself from the leather chair. "I am not going to ask about your Centurion account's expenditure." She leaned against the table and rested her leg in a way that left a heel tapping the wood with disapproval. "I am also not fussed whether or not you're making money for us, but you have to realise, I won't be here in November, in December, all the way through to February, assuming our victories continue unabated. That's FOUR months, Dai, almost half-a-year. Is there going to be a Shanghai office left when I return?" Dai sulked, his usually masculine face twisting in agony. "I can fix this." "No. You can't," Gwen interrupted him. "Terence. Effi." "Yes, Ma'am?" The two approached. "Count for me how many times Dai consulted the two of you." For Dai, the patterned herringbone carpet suddenly became very interesting. "Ruì?" "Master Fung is very sociable," her secretary offered her best opinion of their walking, talking avatar of nepotism. "Dai, what's the canal's turnover for September?" "…" Dai hesitated. His tormentor may as well have asked him for the price of a banana. "... I see." Gwen's voice remained collected. "Did you forget why I hired Terence and Effi?" "For accounting?" "FOR YOU!" her voice snapped at him like a whip. "You don't have to do the accounts, damn it, but you need to know them! How in Tonglv's name are you even pulling in investments when you don't know the state of the canal's balance sheets? What are you investing? Which division? How much land is left?" "I—" "Did you know that the canal's orbital ring-road is contracted to Leiwong Construction, who sub-contracted to Tai-Wei, who then subcontracted it to Jianhong, an NoM firm for a quarter of the initial price? What the hell happened to competitive tender? Why is seventy-five per cent of the cost going into a drain? Why not build a TWELVE lane highway with Jianhong for half the price? When this gets upstairs, Chairman Tu will choke you like a lame dog, assuming your father doesn't first." The angel-faced harpy sighed, then patted a petrified Dai on the shoulder. Dai wanted to leave, but knew he was firmly entrenched in their unhappy union, riding the buckling dragon with only the abyss below. "Ruì, brief Mr Fung." Gwen's disregard battered his bruised ego as she brushed past him. "I am going out for lunch." Half a campus away, Marie-Roslyn Wen observed a strange numbness in her fingers. "I am happy for you." "Thank you, Master." Petra remained her polite self, though Wen wondered if the girl was at all being sarcastic. "Nephrite makes a curious medium." They had been working on the regeneration-prevention properties of the Void Element on non-magical mammals when Wen's eyes narrowed at the peculiar presence of a crystalline cube the colour of mutton fat. "Master, Gwen was kind enough to gift me with a Spirit," Petra had intoned flatly, suggesting her cousin had shouted a lobster dinner. "I managed to attune with it." "Oh." After the initial shock, Wen was glad her faculties had remained unruffled - for it was unbecoming for a British-educated, sixty-year-old woman without a Mineral Spirit worth its weight in Cores to demonstrably suffer a meltdown. "Very good, may I see what it does?" "Atlas is a wily one," Petra had agreed to a demonstration. "A tier 7 or 8 Naga spirit, I am told. As such, it will take some time to master its many natural abilities." "Ah—" Wen nodded. "I see. Many abilities. Very good." Wen's apprentice passed a cube over the table. "The nephrite cubes are stronger, more stable. I do believe they could hold spells of equal tier to the complexity of glyphs used to seal the manifesting effect." Wen palmed Petra's fist-sized cube, inspecting the material, noting its superior hardness and composition. "I have not tested the full extent of Atlas' storage capacity, but I do believe that currently, out of a total of sixty cubes, I could generate another twenty. With future mastery, I would venture to say that doubling my capacity is within the realm of possibility." "How wonderful," Petra's instructor croaked. "What else?" "Considering the nature of Nagas, I experimented with multi-casts. Currently, I can activate one additional cube per spell-cycle." Petra threw a cube into the air, where it appeared to be caught by a semi-invisible appendage. "It's quite interesting; please observe — Light!" The spell cube erupted into feeble daylight. A few seconds later, a new spell cube engendered. "I am trying to figure out how to manifest more arms—" "An arm? Your arm?" Wen interrupted her student. "Gwen gave you a humanoid, sapient Spirit?" "A draconic one, yes," Petra demurely affirmed her master's enquiry. Magister Wen inhaled. "Mine was a leftover," Petra assured her Master that the gift was nothing too serious. "Lulan got the Jadeite Naga Spirit; it's stronger than mine by at least a tier." Wen realised she must have closed her eyes for a moment, that or she blacked out, she wasn't sure. When she came to, Petra was shaking her and asking if she was alright. "I did tell you that the Dean wanted you on Gwen's team, didn't I?" Wen changed the subject. "I received confirmation of your eligibility yesterday." "No, Ma'am," the young woman replied. "Now, I know." "You will be my eyes. I need you to record everything Gwen does, take notes on how her Void manifests in the field, how she uses her magic, how her enemies react, how her power grows. I'll teach you the diagnostic magic." "Of course," Petra agreed. "I am your co-author after all." "That's true," Wen acknowledged the fact. As Walken would say, when there's a common benefit, trust is a simple thing. From behind the sample cage, she observed her assistant's comely face, which some would say was more striking than even that of her cousin's. Had Petra elected to remain in her old profession, she would have been celebrated, feared, loathed, loved, possibly even worshipped, but fate was a funny thing to gift a girl like that with the Mineral trait. "Anything else Atlas can do?" "That's it for now." Petra pointed to one the cages. "Master, G14 has died." "Drat!" Wen rubbed her eyes, suddenly exhausted, an unbecoming display from a senior researcher such as herself. "I am going to take a break. As for you, lower the dosage and up the Positive Energy for F01." Ding! "Master?" her student demanded of her. "Gwen's requesting a luncheon..." Sunday week. The Song Estate. "Oh my, you shouldn't have!" Gwen's babulya gushed at the precious stones crowding the table. "Klavdiya's right, you really shouldn't have," Guo remarked drily. "Ah…" Only under the watchful eye of Guo did Gwen acknowledge the hypocrisy of her gifting looted loot from Kachin to her family. "… Mayuree gave these to me as a sort of get-well gift after the Naga incident." "Humph!" Guo grunted. "I take it these are worth many times their weight in crystals." "Nothing I can't make in half-a-month," Gwen promised with a smile. "Think nothing of it. I'd much rather share it with Percy than sell it for HDMs at the House of M Auction." "Thanks, Sis! Can we keep these, Yeye?" Percy palmed an apple-sized block of mutton-fat nephrite. "What are these good for?" "The smaller pieces are for single-use protection charms like Absorb Elements," Guo explained, tapped the stones with his fingers. "The larger ones can be combined with Cores to make passive wards like Contingency Mineral Shields or Mage Armour. The Jadeite makes charms that banish extra-planar creatures, like your sister's Familiars." "Ho Ho." Percy made a face at his sister. "Assuming you find someone to scribe it." Gwen raised her chin. "Got pocket money to spare?" "He'll be working soon." Guo's suspicion finally relented. "He'll be apprenticing under a kill-team from the Ghosts. Percy needs to be whetted before he grows blunt." "You're pushing him too soon," Klavdiya complained. "Hai hated it when you sent him to Hebei." "It's my idea," Percy intervened. "I want real combat! I want to fight monsters, and I want to see the Front! Not even Gwen has been up north, have you, Sis?" "Nope." Gwen ruffled her brother's hair. "The Undead, eh? Can you handle it?" "Salt purifies the dead!" Percy smirked arrogantly. "Yeye said so." "That it does," Guo said. "Hey, Sis," Percy snorted through haughty nostrils. "How about a duel? Want to see how much I've grown?" Gwen made an "O" with her lips. "Ho? Feeling antsy?" "Percy has recently attained tier 4 in Evocation." Guo's chest visibly puffed with pride. "And tier 2 in both Transmutation and Abjuration." Gwen clapped. Being what Walken termed an Omni-Mage was no reason to make light of her brother's labour. It wasn't as though she could snort and suggest Percy spell-drain yet more vagrants. "Do we have a Force Barrier?" "In the training hall." Percy pointed a thumb toward the east wing. "After I blew out a wall, Yeye had his guys install a mid-tier training barrier." "You remodelled the hall?" Kalvdiya glared at her husband. Considering how Gwen had for months shared a single bathroom with Richard while sleeping in an unfurnished trainer's room, Guo appeared embarrassed by his spendthrift. "Yeye, never mind that." She had since long gotten used to the favouritism, seeing it as immutable as Alesia's temper. "Come on, Percy, let's see what you've got!" Magus Alan Ma stood just outside the fortress-like Hongqiao ISTC hub, counting the seconds in his head. He was waiting for a beautiful sorceress, a chore that would have been the envy of his peers- until he opened the woman's dossier. Alesia De Botton. Female. Age thirty-six. A Combat Magus possessing both Evocation and Transmutation: estimated to be between tier six and seven. A veteran of the Coral Sea conflict, unofficial apprentice to the late Henry Kilroy, active in the field since she was fourteen. In 1997, Alesia destroyed the library of a Tower Magister in Sydney over a dispute, losing her military rank. Since then, she served as an independent Tower operator under Henry Kilroy. During the battle of Sydney, she managed to activate a strategic-class Spell of Mass Destruction single-handedly. Engaged to Magister Gunther von Shultz, Tower Master of Sydney. The PLA Tower considers De Botton a Class I individual with a category IV danger rating. A Class I individual was on par with a state dignitary, while Category IV implied she was capable of wiping out a district, and that suppressing the sorceress would involve a Party lead by a Combat Magus. Neither classification made Alan's job easier. _Psht_! The double doors opened. "Miss De Botton!" Alan intervened before the woman's long strides took her from the entrance. Physically, Alesia De Botton was both stunning and commanding, though what had enthralled Alan was the sheer volume of red wrapped around the sorceress's hourglass figure, splashing the monochrome concrete exterior of the city with a rare pigment of retina-searing scarlet. The Scarlet Sorceress paused. "And you are?" Alan forced himself to calm. Here was a woman who had killed more sapient beings than Alan had eaten bowls of rice. "Alan Ma, at your service, Ma'am." Alan bowed. "I am your contact from the PLA Tower. While you're in Shanghai, I shall be your liaison. If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to ask." "You got the car I wanted?" "Yes Ma'am, it's been arranged at Pudong's behest." "Good." De Botton removed her sunglasses, revealing a pair of strikingly lapis irises that seemed to dig into Alan's soul. Startlingly, she appeared melancholic, and some of her make up was smudged. "Is there anything I should know?" "Please refrain from engaging in combat while in the city-" "Of course, I know that." His guest nodded. "Do you know the way to Fudan?" "Fudan University?" Alan was taken aback by her request. "I do—" "Good, I'll drive." The Fire Mage replaced her glasses, then wrinkled her nose as she glanced up at the enormous girth of the PLA Tower looming over the city like a monstrous spider. "Let's hurry, tiger. I've got people to sear." "See, Ma'am?" Alan doublechecked his Ioun Stone, but his VIP was already several strides ahead, making for the wine-coloured convertible in the distance.

"Eat up! Eat up!" Gwen peeled another Crystal-Shell Scampi for her brother, reserving the creamy prawn head for herself to suckle. After the match and feeling mightily hungry due to her workout, she had decided to shout the family a Wildland feast at Sails, a restaurant owned by the House of M. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, she also called Tao, Mina and Petra, though the latter declined, citing that she was synthesising unspeakably sophisticated magic. "A young boy needs more protein to grow!" She spooned a famously steaming scallop onto Percy's plate, feeling particularly motherly after the long absence. "Percy, I give you permission to invite me to your formal." "Not on your life!" Percy endured his sister's teasing. "And I can eat by myself..." "Hahaha." Gwen poked at her brother with the peeled prawn. "Feeling salty over getting arse kicked?" Percy snapped at the prawn, almost biting her fingers, eliciting much mirth from their extended family. "Here." Tao likewise slapped a fillet onto Mina's plate, fulfilling his filial duty. "Eat up." Mina's lips twitched. She turned to Gwen. "Your IIUC match was amazing. You should have called us over before you fought Percy. I wanted to see your magic for myself!" Initially in the brother-on-sister duel, Gwen had restricted herself to tier 4 spells and below in addition to setting Ariel and Caliban to watch. Taking advantage of the fact that Percy could Blink but not Dimension Door, she played tag with her brother throughout the duelling cage, occasionally blasting Percy with jolts of lightning while he gave chase, bounding from wall to wall like a jacked-up Pika, throwing salt shards that ricochetted from her double-shields. Eventually, Gwen managed a Warding Bolt and Call Lightning, leaving Percy awkwardly stuck between defence and offence. After her brother grew frustrated, she allowed him to go all out, pelting her with Salt Bolts, blasts, sprays, cages and explosions while she leisurely summoned her hounds. What followed was Percy howling in frustration as a half-dozen horse-sized Deerhound chased him about the chamber, yelping and sparking as Percy leapt and Blinked, ultimately pinning him and giving him paralysing licks. Outside the barrier, Guo and Klavdiya had grown slack-jawed. It was one thing to hear about the prowess of their granddaughter, and quite another to see her in action. The effortlessness with which Gwen toyed with Guo's pride and joy was painful to watch, ratifying the reality that indeed, Gwen had already fought several bouts against Titan and Mythic class beings. "I prefer a date over six-feet tall." Gwen continued her poking, seemingly determined to displace Mei. "Maybe a set of nice stilettos will get you up to speed." Percy growled. So far, he managed a meter sixty-six. "Yo a Transmuter, dawg, polymorph another six-inches and yo be golden." Tao wiggled his pinky, then snapped a snow crab's leg in two. "Dang, dis some expensive shit, Gwen. You making bling?" "I am indeed making the bling." She made a gang-sign with a prawn-head and a crab claw. "Hows the crew?" "My bros be doing finer than yo ass—" "Alright, alright" Mina intervened before their grandfather could sour all the sashimi with a scowl. "Tao, you came to ask Gwen something, just say your damn piece, and say it properly!" "And what would that be, Peaches?" Gwen sidled closer to her cousin, watching his eyes pivot. "Er…" Tao began to sweat. "When you heading to the states, dawg." "Hmmm? Why?" "I hear yoz going ta be going overseas soon, worldwide! I ma hit up the west coast on biz, ya know? With pops. I wanna be dere when you do. We can cruz and chill in dem hills." "You want to hang out in LA?" Gwen gestured in surprise with a scampi-tail. "Tao's doing well with his shows," Mina explained. "Our Dad's been to the states a few times on business, so it shouldn't be too hard for Tao to apply for a visitation permit." "Why do you want to come with me?" Gwen cocked her head. "Why not get a travel agent, or go with a tour group?" "Whats a tour group?" Tao's brows formed the Chinese pictogram for eight. "Naw, I was jus thinking, ya know? Your crew, mah crew, hanging out. Full Gansta! Maybe bring Petra..." Gwen again turned to Mina for a translation. Mina rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't recommend bringing Tao," Guo intervened, his expression darkening. "The Americans aren't a part of anything, not even the Mageocracy. They're a big country but hardly unified like we are. In their cities, the bourgeoisie lives like kings while the proletariat lives like the meanest animal." "I ain't going to find trouble," Tao protested vehemently. "I am going for music! For art! Ya dig?" "Erm…" Gwen felt torn. "He won't bother your delegation," Mina passed on what Tao had failed to communicate in his gobbledygook lingo. "I think Peaches wants to time his visit with your IIUC so that he could have some backup if he gets into trouble. Where he wants to go isn't exactly the safest parts of the city. He'll be with his boys, and you guys could meet up if you can spare the time." "Yeah, we need some hunnies—" "Peaches!" "Ah…" Gwen realised the truth. She clapped her hands. "Assuming we're in L.A, I am happy to do that. Peaches?" "You da top, Gwen!" "I am going to speak to Bao," Guo grumbled darkly. "Oh, come on, dawg!" "Yeye," Gwen intervened. "Maybe this is good for Tao. He can see the world outside of Shanghai, open up his horizons. Maybe he can find himself over there and come home a changed man." "A tour at the Front would make him a changed man." "A changed man, Yeye, not a CHANGED one. I don't think Aunty Nen would like that." She patted her grandfather's hand. "At any rate, I fully support Tao wanting to better himself." "Erg." Mina shot her brother a look of contempt. "Gwen, you put it so eloquently." "Yeah, you tell em!" Tao threw Guo a "W", though Gwen halted him from digging himself deeper. "Work out the kinks with your father, alright, Peaches? Also, I have no idea when I am going. It could be next month. It could be as late as February." "Leave that to me." Tao puckered his lips. "You just do your thang." "Alright…" she tugged free a crystalline glob of flesh from the twitching lobster. "I'll let you know." The coming Monday, Gwen forced herself to return to training with Walken. Making big bucks, feasting with family and chumming with her cousins was all very relaxing, but her true vocation was the tireless pursuit of magical prowess. "I have confirmation from the Dean that Petra will be joining the international portion of the IIUC," Walken informed her when they stopped to rest. "Are you surprised?" "Not really..." she confessed. Walken waited for Gwen to explain herself. "...for one, you and Marie have been raging on about this Omni-Mage business. And though Petra's skillset isn't optimal, her Spellcubes are extremely flexible, AND she's the only one Wen can trust to keep an eye on me. Not to mention Wen's probably frothing at the mouth for more data. Additionally, with Petra, we shouldn't be suffering another Mind Magic incident, I hope." Walken smiled. "Well done." "To be straight, I think you're hyping up the Omni-magic thing." Gwen summoned a mote of Enchantment, then allowed the golden glow to fizzle. "I don't feel much different." "It'll take time and research," her instructor assured her. "Rome was not built in a day, after all. Do keep in mind that the Imperial Metric for magic isn't exact. Spellcraft represents our best observations of magical phenomena. With your unprecedented range of Schools, who's to say you won't break new ground? Hmm? Von Shultz's Radiant magic is a good example. What Kilroy did with that boy was nothing short of a miracle." "So, I should continue to experiment with Signature Spells like Chakram?" "Naturally, though you have much more distance to cover yet. Of course, you could rely instead on the expertise of others. Not every Mage can be Archmage Bilby Bigglesworth, or his master, the Magi Morden." "Are you volunteering, Eric?" "I am humbled by your expectations." Walken bowed, tipping an invisible hat. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Gwen chuckled. After Burma, she felt that the taut tension that existed between them had slackened somewhat. She would never forgive the man for what he did in Sydney, but she was beginning to see where Gunther had been right- that it was far more useful to keep Walken within arm's reach. After the pleasant prophecy of good things to come, two more hours of Conjuration followed through a concourse Walken had conjured. By its end, Gwen had run her mind haggard with spell-fatigue. In the afterglow, Walken conjured a chair and lied back against the spine. "Gods, I am no longer even a middle-aged man. I should remember that." "Your VMI and mental fortitude are impressive," Gwen remarked. "I am struggling to keep up." "I hate to imagine what you would become in a few decades." Walken materialised a wet towel to place on his forehead. "Ah, that's better." "What do you think we should do next?" "You want to keep going?" Walken made a face. "I veto your enthusiasm." "For tier 6 Conjuration, I mean," she snorted. "I'd love to learn Teleportation Circle, but I lack proficiency in scripting Mandalas." "Well…" Her instructor rested his eyes. "In terms of added combat utility, I would venture to learn Bilby's Hand, something in between Evocation and Conjuration. The Evocation variant allows for push, pull and crash, while the Conjuration variant allows for longer duration and more complex manipulations. Henry, I recall, had a variation which allowed for significant dexterity, and could even act as a shield. Lightning isn't the best medium, but with your current VMI, raw mana or Void would make a viable option." Gwen's lips puckered into an 'O'. "If you want raw power, there are loftier targets." Walken produced a thermos, then poured each of them a cup of Cylon. "How do you like that Titan-class magma one-eye Seoul summoned." "Strong as all hell." Gwen nodded eagerly. "Can you conjure one?" "I can." Walken nodded. "Planar Ally isn't a rare spell, just an expensive and bothersome one. It takes weeks to set up initially, even for the best of Conjurers, then after that, at least an hour to recreate the mandala. It also requires you to be an Enchanter, or have an Enchanter on hand." "We got Petra and me." "You're an illiterate Enchanter," Walken remarked drily. "Worse than a novice." "Petra, I choose you!" Walken snorted. "Even so, we're talking about Quasi-Elemental beings here. Back before the IMS was a thing, folks worshipped them as Gods. A Planar Ally isn't a Familiar you're summoning, but a living, thinking, elemental being with individual agendas." "Such as?" "Depends." Walken sipped his tea. "A mundane Mage summons an Avatar of Fire, a Djinn, something like the demi-humanoid Salamander Chen Hufei has tamed, but much, much more powerful. Its first instinct is to burn everything, turn each and everything it sees into its habitat in the Elemental Plane of Fire. To the Salamander, the Prime Material is too cold, too moist, and it hates it here. Should you, the Conjurer, try to bend it to your will, you're surely going to piss it off, so your first fight is with the very thing you conjured." "Erg…" "The spell has control mechanisms built into it, of course, but it varies from caster to caster, monster to monster, and Mandala to Mandala," Walken explained. "We know that there are civilisations of Elemental beings that exist in the Planes, just as they do in our world. If you take up extra-planar studies as a Post-graduate in Europe, you may know more, but for now, there are three steps: conjuration, subjugation, then contract." "Which consist of?" "Elementally aligned crystals generally work well," Walken continued. "Creature Cores make better bargaining chips, as are particular forms of flora. In the olden days, Druids and Shamans would offer willing or unwilling colleagues, kins, maidens, kids, whole villages, the enemy city. You name it." "And in exchange?" "They perform favours. Though your Kyoto allies may know more, likewise, should you encounter Spirit Casters or Blood Priests from the Inca regions, they have unique rites with far more intricate methodologies. In that regard, the Mageocracy's knowledge is vastly inferior. The Commonwealth favours predictability over all else, after all." "Well, I've got lots of Crystals," Gwen declared confidently. "And I could also prepare Cores if need be. What are we talking about, ten-thousand HDMs?" "To begin, then more with each additional favour. I shall invite Wen if you're truly interested. She's the superior Mandala scribe." Walken then indicated to Caliban, who was playing by rolling itself like a cigar back and forth across the hall, sparking mana flares from the barriers. "That and ready a sturdy containment field. Can you imagine what would come out, if that's the calibre of beings you're trafficking?" "Righto," Gwen called Caliban and Ariel to her, then made them invisible for the outing. "I'll let Pats know." Outside, Gwen felt a chilling breeze the moment she exited the training hall with Walken in tow, feeling as though someone or something had walked across her grave. Puzzled, she checked her attire, consisting of spats under her skirt and a conforming sports top under a jacket. Though the temperature had cooled in autumn, she felt plenty warm thanks to her draconic-constitution, so why was it that her thighs were covered in goosebumps? "What's wrong?" Walken caught his student shivering. "I am not sure." Gwen reached behind her head and gingerly probed Ayxin's scale, noting its dormancy and thanking the Yinglong that she wasn't having another draconic-episode. "I think something tripped my Divination Sigil." "That's not good." Walken glanced about the place. "Aella!" The Couatl materialised. "Ariel!" Gwen sent out her Familiar as well. Both creatures surveyed the perimeter. "Where you headed now?" Walken put on a newspaper cap as they entered the dying sunlight. "Supper with the team," Gwen indicated to the north of the campus. "There's a new bun shop. Think Petra will mesh with the others?" "She has her ways." Walken grinned. "I wonder if her ice queen exterior is her true self, or if she's deliberately trying to alienate her past. To my understanding, Moscow's Mind Mage training for their agents involves very peculiar benchmarks for sociability." "I like her just the way she is," Gwen confessed. "If she's suddenly all flirty, I don't know…" Walken looked up, seeing that Aella had returned. "Safe!" Aella announced, accurately mimicking human speech. "Ee ee!" Ariel agreed. The two then proceeded across the campus, nodding at star-struck students as they passed, suffering the occasional lumen-bulb. In the distance, the sound of motor-hoons in their obnoxious vehicles filled the air. Once she and her instructor paced past Fudan's Handan Campus, Walken paused, indicating that he would now part from her. "Eric, where do you live?" Gwen felt suddenly curious as to where a former Magister and one of the ten most powerful human beings in Australia would make their home. All around them were high-rises in concrete and glass, surely one of them held her instructor's penthouse. "Er…" Walken appeared visibly uncomfortable. "Why?" "I am curious." Gwen noted the man's tenseness and grew proportionately curious. "Well?" "I'd rather not say." "Oh, come on, Eric," Gwen chortled derisively. "A Magister like you, in which one of these buildings do you make your lair?" Walken pointed to a flat between two gleaming, multi-storey buildings. "NO WAY!" Gwen gestured at a brick and mortar flat wedged between two buildings, an old 80s communist-bloc apartment straight out of Nineteen-Eight-Four. "You live in that?" "It's homely enough." Walken evaded the subject. "In Oxbridge, I lived in a dorm the size of your bedroom for five years. In Sydney, I lived in the Tower. It was far easier that way. Didn't Henry live in his Grot? It's no different." "What about your family?" "They're here and there, scattered across Europe and Oceania. I have daughters. You know that, right?" "You're still married, aren't you?" Gwen wanted to know why Walken had so much free time to spend in Shanghai. Without warning, Walken abruptly parted from her, crossing the street with such haste that a car screeched. "Eric..." Gwen realised she might have stepped on a landmine. She berated herself for the intrusion, realising that perhaps, even Eric had limits to his patience. "Well fuck—" But her instructor was already gone, leaving her feeling like an ass. _Click._ Walken closed the door to his flat, simultaneously activating his defensive rings. He had felt watched the moment he and Gwen crossed the campus, and now he knew it wasn't Gwen that their watcher was watching. The mouldy flat was crowded with old books and unpacked boxes. It wasn't so much that Walken lacked the will to tidy the place, but that the unit was a temporary abode and he saw no need to make himself overtly comfortable in a home that arguably, he may need to abandon quickly. And now, it would appear he had an unwelcome guest. Upon the latch, he had placed a piece of semi-transparent Moonlit Moth silk. The material was hypersensitive to magical interference and readily dissolved when magic touched the locking mechanism. It was a mundane, non-magical method of detecting magical intrusions, one he had learned from Kilroy long ago. With Mages having access to Lock and Unlock, nothing short of an offensive barrier would deter intruders, and Walken wasn't about to invest in a site he used only to rest his eyes and stow mundane materials. Still, his intruder had chosen wisely. Aella was too large to fit into the old flat, meaning an unsuspecting Walken would not be able to conjure his Familiar. _Should he attack first?_ He wondered, then decided against a preemptive strike on the basis that if this were some PLA Ghost or a spook from the Militant Faction, killing their agent would only invite more suspicion. As he placed his coat on the hanger and stowed his scarf, he readied a Dimension Door- one that would safely deposit him outside. That was another reason why he had chosen the old flat - 80s buildings lacked the complex arcanistry of materials that disrupted teleporting into and out of the structure itself. Concurrently, blowing away a decrepit old apartment was far less likely to attract the ire of powerful people, and more importantly, influential cohabiters who would demand answers. Inside the crowded, paper-strewn living room, he felt a presence. "I see I have a guest," Walken intoned as he entered the corridor, addressing the silhouette within. "Is it too late to welcome you to my humble abode?" A few streets away, Gwen's mood was lightened by a satisfying feeling of schadenfreude when she spotted a haphazardly parked convertible in a loading zone being ticketed by a patrol officer. Loud cars belonging to well-to-do Fu-er-dai wasn't unusual, though what caught her attention was the offensive way it had been parked, for four distinct tire marks lead from the opposite lane, suggesting that the car had slid into place with a great stink of rubber and mana exhaust. Curiously, the vehicle was a glaring crimson, Italian-made convertible, resembling an old-world Alfa-Romeo married with a 918. "Ma'am, is this your vehicle?" a youthful officer demanded of her, seeing that both the foreign car and the girl appeared prohibitively expensive. "Nope, I am just admiring." Gwen sidled closer, catching a crimson shawl behind the driver's sea, the kind that a woman with a head full of autumn-coloured hair might use to prevent her flaming tresses from blowing out while driving. Could it be? She studied the vehicle for more clues, feeling uneasier by the minute. If her Sister-in-craft had come to Shanghai, surely she would be informed. Gunther would have called, meaning she should be at the ISTC, picking up Alesia in person, then whisking her away to the Waldorf Astoria for tapas, jazz and drinks. The officer cast her a curious glance before resuming his patrol, likely wondering when he'd seen her face. "Excuse me." A middle-aged Asian man suddenly materialised from the crowd, his expression the exact opposite of calm and collected. "Are you Gwen Song?" Gwen immediately placed herself behind the convertible, creating some distance between them. There were many NoMs about, and a fight would only endanger the public. Not far, the officer was still out and about. "Who's asking?" She sent Ariel overhead. There was a subtle stink of ozone as her Kirin grew in size. "Alan Ma, at your service." The Mage inclined his head while spreading both hands to show that he meant her no harm. Very slowly and carefully, he held out his identification. "PLA Tower. I hold the rank of Magus. My Uncle, James Ma is your instructor." At the mention of her colleague's name, Gwen relaxed Ariel's hypersensitive vigilance. "Miss Song." The Magus was sweating like a greased up pig. "I take it that you did not see Magus de Botton?" With a sudden clarity, the source of her unease became clear. "SHIT!" Gwen swore loud enough for the whole street to hear. "WALKEN!!"

In the car, Alesia de Botton informed Alan Ma that her goal at Fudan was to meet with Gwen Song. The familiar name gave Alan a start, for he had been hearing about the girl from his uncle for months now. "A walking lump of vanity and pride, a dragon in a woman's body, possessing a crystal-hoard to match," James Ma had wryly intoned. "You'll like her." To Alan, at least on the lumen-caster, the girl of eighteen appeared perfectly prim and proper. Other than that one scandal where her Familiars went wild, she answered questions, kissed and made up with the reporters who had hounded her, and even spent time promoting her teammates, like the rogue from Huashan and their Captain from the funeral home. "Is this not widely known?" de Botton remarked as she weaved through the traffic. "She's my sister-in-craft." "Really?" Alan performed a double-take as the roadster accelerated. "We all mentored under Master Kilroy while in Sydney," his VIP explained, her tone suddenly upset. "I suppose it'll be common knowledge once her IIUC finishes…" Alan made a mental note to inform the PLA Tower as soon as possible. "… and to think that for someone for whom master sacrificed so much, she turned tail so readily. Gwen was such a quiet girl when I found her being auctioned in her uncle's house. She was a nobody back then, did you know? Just tier 3, not bad for Frontier stock, but more or less just a pretty face. After I introduced her to master, she started to blossom, learning all sorts of magic…" To Alan's alarm, Alesia's one-sided monologue grew in intensity, pouring forth with a vehemence that made him nervous. "… it's ridiculous how everyone thinks that the prick has paid for his crimes. I mean our Master died because we couldn't access the Tower and turn it against Sobel..." "Miss de Botton, we've arrived." "...And speaking of Master's wife, bloody hell, when the day comes when the three of us hunt that bitch down…" _VROOM_! To the Magus' dismay, his driver gunned the vehicle around the perimetre of Fudan's university district, taking in the sights while continuing her tirade. "There are students and NoMs here!" Alan indicated to the twin towers of Fudan jutting from the sea of skyscrapers, then to the pedestrians. "Please slow down." _SCREEEE!_ Alesia spun the wheel. Alan felt as though he'd banked mid-flight during an aerial exercise. Horns tooted, NoMs screamed, other drivers howled abuse as they skidded across the tarmac to stop in a loading zone. "We can't park here…" Alan pointed to the sign. Thump! The door slammed. Alesia exited the clinking vehicle, catching a hundred pairs of eyes as she rose to her full height. With a careless gesture, the woman discarded the shawl hiding her hair into the backseat, then with her voluminous curls falling about her shoulders, she strode toward the Handan campus. "Where are you going?" Alan unbuckled. The Scarlet Sorceress's figure shimmered, then she was gone. "CAO!" Alan swore. Invisibility! He immediately replaced his glasses with a pair enchanted with Detect Foe. "Ta-made!" He despaired. Whatever Alesia was using, it was higher than his tier 4 detection. The redhead was trouble; he just knew it! How the hell was he going to find her without causing a scene? Also, did the woman even know where she was going? Thankfully, he had marked her earlier with a Detect Ally, if he could— His Divination came up empty. Alan's forehead quickly grew icky with perspiration. A foreign agent did not just go rogue on his watch! Tapping his comm-device, Alan considered dialling the Tower. _No._ The Magus told himself. He had no interest in career suicide. Not even the reputation of the Ma family was enough to stave off a monumental fuck-up like losing a Cat-4 VIP in the middle of a crowded university district. De Botton couldn't have gotten far. He hoped. If he walked around, maybe he would spot her again, and he could then plead with her to follow at least the basic guidelines of a visiting dignitary, such as no activation of ilicit magic within the city's limits. Please, please, please! He prayed to his ancestors for guidance. Don't start a magical battle in the middle of Shanghai! _VOOMPH-BANG!_ Alesia answered Walken's welcome with a Fireball. It was wholly unintentional, for she had planned to speak to the bastard, but when the cunt's castor-oil voice came through the corridor, her lips and her hands moved on their own. Instantly, the empowered Fireball enveloped the small apartment. Without a Spirit, her spell's range and damage were difficult to control, but Alesia felt confident that she had grown since Sydney's fall. At first, when she became well again to practice the craft, she had found herself crippled by the death of her Crimson Caracal, a near-sentient partner which had accompanied her since the Coral Sea Conflict. According to Gunther, it was because she had lost a portion of her Astral Body to the Djinn. While she recovered, attuning herself to a life without her caracal, healing her crippled Astral Body with Elven elixirs from the Swiss Alps, she found that her connection to the Elemental Plane of Fire had expanded. Gunther suspected it had to do with the fleeing Djinn leaving a portion of its Essence in her Astral Body and suggested she should see a medical Magister, but Alesia's preference was for privacy. And so, the Scarlet Sorceress marked the unexpected boon as just one of those things that happened in life, like food poisoning, or curry tacos. Unfortunately for Walken, her control was still in development. The orange fire filled the corridor, then blew out the bathroom, the kitchenette and the front door. In the next moment, a backwash of flaming paper filled the living room, indicating that Walken had activated a protective barrier. "Alesia!" came the man's panicked voice. "Don't! We're in a tier 1 city!" "Ha!" Alesia laughed. She had come with a plan! She hadn't just come to Shanghai as a waif with a cudgel and a grudge. Just as Walken had his Grey Faction, she knew people who loathed Walken in the Middle Faction. Even without Gunther's explicit instruction, certain Magisters in Pudong were happy to see the recently resurgent Walken taken down a rung. If maiming Walken was an option, she would have welcomed it, but it wasn't something she could realistically carry out without ramifications for Gunther's working relationship with the Greys. Instead, her plan was for both herself and Walken to be kicked out of Shanghai, saving Gwen from future harassment. After scorching Walken a medium-rare and concluding with their arrest, she would enjoy a brief diplomatic immunity, one that was enough to pound some sense into her sister-in-craft while Walken took the next cargo freighter to the Congo. "Combust! Combust! Fireball!" She kept her assault fast, low-tier and straightforward. Too much power and she couldn't control the damage, too low and they wouldn't attract the necessary attention. _Crack!_ A burst of lightning discharge indicated that Walken had teleported outside. "Blink!" Alesia followed suit. This time, she had ensured that her clothes were all element-weaved. In Shanghai, she had no desire to be arrested sans her intimates. Walken was making a run for it, rapidly deploying Dimension Door to move from rooftop to rooftop, making for the older sectors of the university district, where clumped clusters of concrete buildings still stood, awaiting demolition. "Flaming Arrows!" She harassed her target even as he hopped through time and space. Sonnova bitch! She cursed. The prick refused to join spells or trade attacks, merely fleeing for it like a grey rat down a sewer. Alesia growled. Either way, she was determined that by the day's end, Walken would be homeless. The woman's Fireball was no longer crimson, but it was all too familiar. Alesia de Botton! Eric Walken groaned. De Botton was a rabid honey badger when it came to her tenacity, and there was no way he could see himself prying open her jaws. To achieve that, he needed his student. In all honesty, he had not anticipated that his protégée would so soon become his spell-shield. That Gwen may one day untangle the mess he found himself in had always been a part of his design, though having his old nemesis charging through an actual ISTC went beyond even his expectations. It must have been the broadcasted IIUC ceremony, he realised, though he had no idea how De Botton watched CCVC-1. Should he have stayed hidden? Walken wondered if once again, his student's pride had catalysed his own. After Burma, he had wanted to stand beside her and show the Grey Faction that they were right to welcome him back into the fold. At the same time, he WAS proud of the girl. Why wouldn't he? She used his magic, ignored his advice, then accidentally liberated a country. That's an accomplishment for which he could surely take credit. Even now, he was going to gift her with his improved variant of Planar Ally. But how could he convince de Botton of his "best" intentions? _KABOOM!_ A wave of scorching heat washed over his back, dispersed by his Wind Wall. In his mind, he could feel Aella demanding to be released. Were he to match de Botton seriously, Walken was confident in his victory so long as they could enter a sturdy and enclosed space, a condition easily fulfilled in a city of concrete. But after that? Did de Botton think he was an idiot to fight her in public? "Gwen!" Not wanting to end the encounter with de Botton in a coma and a livid Gwen voiding their partnership, he activated his Message device. "Eric!" came the reply. "Your apartment's on fire!" "I am heading for the training hall at Yi-fu No.2!" Walken Dimensioned Doored once more. "We can't let her damage any of the buildings." _"_ Flame Torrent!" A whirlpool of fire engendered where Walken had just landed, sending the pedestrians fleeing unharmed in all directions. Beside him, the trees burst into flames. "Alesia! NO!" came Gwen's voice behind him, made audible by Clarion Call. "Calm down! Don't fight!" "I'll meet you inside!" Walken switched channels on his comm-device. "Jiang! De Botton's after me!" "Is that why my western entrance is on fire?" came the reply from Luo. "Who initiated?" "She did! I am now headed to Yifu No.2 with Gwen, can you tie up the media and the police until I need them? Get Pudong to send someone!" "Cao! I'll call the Tower!" The Message dropped. Another Fireball erupted, this time taking out a bench and a trashcan, immolating the jade-green lawn as it singed his hair and beard. Walken Dimension Doored once more so that he was right beside the training hall, then slipped inside to await the arrival of both his executioner and his saviour. Watching Gwen effortlessly abuse their Master's Signature Dimension Door made Alesia feel both proud and very much annoyed. "Alesia! NO!" the girl called out, then appeared a few meters away in a flash of blue-white lightning. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. In the distance, there was already the sound of sirens. "You're looking well." Alesia rested a hand on her hips. "Chumming with Walken, eh?" "Oh, for God's sake Allie, not here, and not now!" Alesia's little sister pleaded with her, squirming with a desperation that tickled Alesia's vengeful spirit. "You're as rash as fire!" "And Walken is as false as air!" Alesia snapped. "That man killed our Master!" "He did not!" the girl screeched back, her face glowing scarlet. "He was tricked! Just like you and me! Did you forget? It was us who brought Debora into the Tower, remember? WE DID IT!" "HOW DARE YOU!" Alesia's complexion matched the hue of raw liver. Why in God's name was her sister-in-craft defending Walken? What the fuck did Walken feed her, or had she misjudged her little sister? Did Gwen whore herself to Walken for only a few measly high-tier spells? "I am going inside," came a churlish retort from her sister-in-craft as she propped an ID against the security panel. "You can stay here, or you can blow us up!" "You little…" Alesia snapped. "You think you're all grown up, and now you—" The girl was gone. "FUCK!" Alesia forced her shoulder against the glass. The sound of the fire brigade, and what she presumed were Tower Mages, were coming closer now. They had ten, fifteen minutes at best, and in that time, she was determined to teach the little hussy a lesson in humility. "YOU THERE!" She snapped at an attendant cowering behind the counter. "Open the door at once! Either way, I am coming in!" Gwen stomped her way down the passageway, followed by a raging female Ifrit in the form of Alesia de Botton. Good, she told herself. As she had guessed, resetting Alesia's mental pace wasn't impossible. Her once-instructor, now-sister was as straight as a Flaming Arrow as they come. What pissed her off though, now that she thought about it, was the fact that there was no fucking way Gunther did not have any idea that Alesia was about to pay her a surprise visit, and that her senior lacked the gonads to send out a warning. The way Alesia behaved, it was as though she had caught her red-handed with gore, like when Henry found his wife in that Hungarian catacomb. Once inside, the trio formed into an awkward triumvirate. "Ling. Barriers up, please." Gwen sent the command to the administration desk. A thrum of magic ensured the trio of their temporary privacy. "Sis." Gwen put on a happy face. "Welcome to Shanghai!" "Don't call me that!" Alesia growled, her blue eyes sparkling motes of fire. "Not until you clear up this bullshit." "Too easy." Gwen played it cool. "Eric Walken is indebted to me. I blackmailed him into teaching me magic." "What?" Alesia looked to Walken, clearly not expecting something so sensibly plausible. "Ah—" Walken caught on without missing a beat. "Gwen, that's confidential!" "I trust Allie." Gwen moved closer to Alesia, placing herself between her instructors. "She probably thought you were manipulating me, isn't that right, Alesia? It's the opposite, I assure you. Walken is under my watchful eye." "Are you lying to me?" Alesia narrowed her eyes. "Are you patronising me?" "Wouldn't dream of it." Gwen lowered her arms. "Come on, Alesia, think about it. I've got dirt on him, and he's teaching me so that he's not homeless. It's a win-win for me." "I saw you hug him." "Ah—" Gwen attempted to laugh the matter off as inconsequential. "What's in a hug?" "He was all chummy!" "We were on vid-cast." Gwen felt dirty as the words left her lips. Was it all for the show? Her feelings were ambivalent. She'd felt genuinely happy and grateful that some credit went to Walken, who had given her just the right amount of advice to deal with the cluster-fuck in Kachin. "It's all for show." "Magus de Bottom." Walken approached. "Fuck off!" "You got it." Walken backed away. "Alesia." Gwen came closer with her arms open, having a second go at diplomacy. "I am so happy that you're here. You have no idea how much I've missed you and Gunther." "No! No! NO!" Alesia muttered darkly. "This won't do." "Why not?" Gwen made a face. "It was a misunderstanding. Walken's an employee whose job is to get me through the IIUC. Gunther knows this. He told me—" "Gunther knew this?" Alesia's temper abruptly peaked. _FUCK!_ Gwen inwardly keened. "I called Gunther as soon as I found out the Dean dug up Walken as an instructor. You should know that I got very emotional. When he came into my class, I was this close to Consuming him." "This is true," Walken called out. "On my Astral Soul, your hellcat tried to scratch out my eyes." "SHUT UP!" Walken shut up. "So, Gunther knew?" Alesia demanded. "Er… I asked him for permission." "So he told you to chum with this fucker?" Alesia's hair was rising; she looked like she could eat liars like air. "Allie!" Gwen dialled up her big green puppy-eyes. "Please don't be so mad, Allie. I am so happy you're here. There's so much I want to tell you and show you." "MAD? I AM FUCKING STOKED" Alesia exploded once again. "THAT GUY KILLED OUR MASTER!" "Er—" Walken raised a hand. "Correction…" "ALESIA!" Gwen pulled back her sister's attention. "I am an Omni-Mage now- all thanks to Walken. How about that, huh? Master would be super proud." "What the fuck is an Omni-Mage?" Alesia spat. "Wow," a snort escaped from Walken. "You're a dead man!" Alesia began. "Gwen, I swear to Gunther, if you don't kick his ass right this second—" "ALLIE!" Gwen snapped back. The air froze as Dragonfear permeated the space between them, silencing Alesia. Her sister-in-craft glared at Gwen, then retaliated with an intensity of her own, one generated from the numberless atrocities she had committed in the name of humanity. "You've got some nerve—" "DUEL ME!" Gwen could think of little else to relieve Alesia of her pent-up frustration. "I want to show you what I managed to fleece from Walken. Come on. Me and you, sister on sister. Let me prove to you that our Master would have been proud." Alesia paused. "Duel me?" Her lips curled cruelly. "Little Gwen, you want to duel me?" "YES!" Gwen motioned for Walken to fuck off. "Me and you, mano a mano, first to yield. Oxford style." "Oh?" Alesia seemed to have forgotten all about Walken. Her blue irises began to turn purple. "You're serious." "Dead serious." Her own eyes glimmered with blue lightning. "If I win, forget about Walken. We'll go for cocktails and lobsters afterwards." "And if I win?" "I'll kick Walken out." "Can I—" "NOT NOW, ERIC!" Gwen shouted back. "Go tell the fuzz we're busy here." The two women watched as Walken exited the hall. "You're going to regret helping that snake." Alesia's expression was a tempest raining fire. "I'll be the judge of that. Allie, do you have a Spirit right now?" Gwen took a step back. "Surely Gunther has got you a new one?" "You'll find out." Alesia kicked away her stilettos. Pulling her hair back, she made a bun. "I am not fucking around, Gwennie. Are you?" "I'll go easy on you," Gwen smirked, likewise knotting her hair. "Caliban! Ariel!" Caliban slithered into being, discarding its Invisibility. "SHAAA!" It wagged its lamprey-tentacles at Alesia. "EEee!" Ariel made itself known, wagging its fishtail. "You better beware," Gwen informed her sister-in-craft. "I going to show you how much I've grown." Alesia cracked her neck, then her fingers. "Ready?" Their eyes met. "Ready." "Cinder!" "Flashbang!" Gwen cursed as her split-second spell failed to catch the dashing Alesia, grazing her sister-in-craft but failing to stun her. Caliban simultaneously charged, transforming into its spider form while Ariel took to the air to act as her spy-station and living turret. "Combust!" The next spell came from Alesia, a split-second Evocation which Gwen had never seen. "Lighting Bo—" Her double-bolt was caught half-way when without warning, a mote of ember from Alesia's earlier Cinder cantrip expanded into a roaring Fireball, catching her entirely off-guard. "Oof!" An intense heat licked her torso and her chest, sending her flying backwards. Were it not for her sturdy constitution and overwhelming VMI, the feedback from her twin Lightning Bolt would have thrown her onto the floor. "SHAAA!" Caliban closed in, its claws locked for capturing one of its favourite humans. According to its master, merely pinning her would suffice. "Stun Blast!" Came the next spell from Alesia, invoked one-handed. When the shockwave engendered, the blast sent Caliban skittering backwards, while Alesia propelled forward toward Gwen. _SHIT!_ Gwen landed on her shoulder, then rolled into a dive just like how Alesia had taught her so long ago. "Dimension Door!" "Blink! Flame Whip!" Somehow, Alesia could predict where she was going to land. Appearing simultaneously, her former instructor caught Gwen by the ankle with her whip, seriously lacerated her white running shoes, then pulled Gwen with terrific force into the air. Meanwhile, Gwen's lightning washed over her sister-in-craft, setting off a wave of defiant sparks as her Transmutation-enhanced body absorbed her tier 6 Lightning. Passive magic? Her mind raced. Alesia could buff herself with silent incantations? As expected of the Scarlet Sorceress, she had grown far more powerful since Blackwattle. _WHAM!_ Gwen slammed bodily into the Force Barrier, feeling her innards turn inside out. Madly circulating her Essence, she quickly spun, clearing her head with a restorative jolt, then kicked hard at the ground so that she pulled at Alesia' whip. "Woa!" Alesia lost her footing. Even with her Transmutation Enhancements, Gwen's draconic-strength was stronger. "Lightning Bolt!" "EEee!" "Flame Avatar!" Twin bolts struck where Alesia stood, warping the barrier below. Alesia appeared to be stunned, but just as Gwen used the reprieve to stand, Alesia's red dress burst into orange flames, transforming her into a being of fire. Djinn-form? Gwen blinked. Alesia looked just like Jun with his Ashen Avatar activated. Either way, it meant the difficulty had escalated. "I thought you were going all out?" Alesia lifted into the air; her near-perfect proportions made impossibly sensual now that her eyes were burning coals and her hair was a river of firefly embers. "Nice Affinity, by the way. I took some damage. Why aren't you using your Void Magic?" "Well." Gwen licked her parched lips. "You'll have to make me! CALIBAN! ARIEL!" "Maelstrom!" Alesia drew a circle in the air. _HOLY FUCK!_ Gwen sucked in a breath of super-heated air: at-will tier 6 Evocation?! "Elemental Sphere!" Gwen retaliated with an AOE of her own. Behind Alesia, she commanded Caliban to no longer hold back. With a grotesque sound of bone and meandering flesh, it transformed into the stag and activated its sixteen prehensile tentacles. Above, Ariel grew full-fluffed. _FOOMP!_ A portal opened into the Elemental Plane of Fire. A sudden vortex descended, pulling Gwen and both of her Familiars into the swirling flames. "SHAA!" Caliban's tentacles whipped around the stationary Alesia, capturing her flaming body. A great sizzling of grey slime polluted the air as the netherworld fiend used the Maelstrom's owner as an anchor, sliding its appendages around her limbs and torso. Gwen's Elemental Sphere erupted, though from what she could see, some of its power appeared to have been deadened by the overwhelming volume of Elemental Fire that now filled the vicinity of the training platform. Indeed, it was becoming difficult to breathe, and what air that remained had now heated up to such a degree that she could feel her clothes fraying. Crack! The second stage of Elemental sphere erupted, enveloping Alesia. "Void Skin!" Gwen cooled herself before she felt faint from heatstroke. "Bilby's Hand!" came another higher-tier spell from her opponent. "Shield!" Gwen fell on the defensive. Instantly, the semi-dome turned opaque from the impact, though thanks to her absurd VMI, it held. "Use your killing spell!" a command came from Alesia. "Don't be a sissy!" "Morden's Hound!" Gwen cursed the fact that there was no fucking way she was going to use Chakram Seekers on her newly recovered sister-in-craft. Without IFF from Caliban, she wasn't about to risk wiping out yet another portion of Alesia's Astral Body. Alesia continued to pound her shield, but Gwen had plenty of mana left to not only sustain but regenerate the damaged portion. "GRRRR!" "AWWWOOOOO!" Her hounds emerged. "SHAAA!" Caliban asked for permission to gore Alesia. Gwen denied her creature's bloodthirsty demand. "Cali! Keep her tied up!" "Flame Nova!" Alesia's response was to unleash a ring of cutting, expanding fire from her torso, slicing apart Caliban's restraints. "SHAAA!" A viscous grey ichor sprayed into the air, evaporating as it touched Alesia's flaming form. "Lightning Bolt!" Alesia's flaming form absorbed the blue-white lightning. Gwen commanded her dogs to attack. If they too failed, then she had only one recourse. "Blade Barrier!" Alesia completed another tier 6 AoE in less time it took Gwen to manifest a supplementary tier 5 Ball Lightning. A thick ring of spinning, flaming blades came into being, filling the space of the training hall. Once, twice, a hundred times, her dogs were whipped up by a massive meat-grinder of fire and steel, whimpering and howling as the merciless object bit into their lightning-charged hide. "Ball Light—" "Combust!" The small explosion happened a few inches from Gwen's body, pressing the air from her lungs. Though a part of her exercise gear blew off, her skin was neither scorched nor blackened. In a way, both casters were holding back. "Flashbang!" Her spell burst over Alesia. She wanted to win, and Ariel would make it so. "Barbanginy!" "Blink!" Alesia had anticipated her killing spell, appearing just above the stationary Familiar, she grabbed Ariel by the horns. "EEE—?" "Disintegrate!" "EEEEE?!" Before the green energy ball could emerge, a beam from Alesia's hand, near-invisible in its extreme heat, removed Ariel's horns with the precision of a veterinarian surgery. Gwen sputtered as Barbanginy's extreme energy clogged her conduits. To secure victory, she had fed a double-dose of Essence-infused Elemental Sphere into Ariel, and now that energy sloshed back into her Astral Body. She fucked up! Gwen realised. Alesia's casting speed for tier 6 spells was faster than her tier 5 Evocations, so she should have gone with a basic Lightning Bolt. Six seconds might seem a split-second to those watching a duel, but to someone like her sister-in-craft, it was enough to kick her to the curb and gutter-stomp her face. "EEEE!" Ariel sprung into a blind panic, assaulting Gwen's empathic link. Where the hell did its horns go? Not only that, it had lost most of its mane where the horns had been. It was now bald! As for Ariel's master, Essence-infused mana now flooded her Astral Body. "Caliban!" Gwen called out desperately for Caliban to assume its Naga form, surprised by just how hard she was willing to fight for Walken. "DO IT!" "SHAAA!" came a cry from Caliban even as it struggled against the Maelstrom. At that moment, Gwen's eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she felt for the first time in a long time, the exquisite agony of an old fashioned mana burn. "STOP!" Came a cry from the speaker system. "Operator! Purge the room!" A second thrum filled the chamber, though the magic-deadening wasn't for Gwen nor Caliban. With her mind in chaos, Caliban de-materialised, returning to its pocket dimension, joining a traumatised, hornless, hairless Ariel. The fire on Alesia's body dimmed until it was barely a whisper of orange licking the air. Simultaneously, her wide-range AoE ceased. "HRRUK!" Gwen expelled Walken's scones, toast and jam all over the floor. She looked up at Alesia with runny eyes and wounded pride. "NO! I can still fight!" "I know you can, tiger." Alesia sighed, her fury drained by the sight of her sister's suffering. "You win." "Owww!" Gwen flopped over, then writhed on the floor. "My head…" "You've proven your point." Alesia intoned sagely, dispelling her Flame Avatar. "You handicapped yourself while I almost gave everything I had. Still, I saw your skills on the vid-cast, you should have..." Gwen began to pound the floor. "GHNNNGH!" "Tiger?" Alesia realised Gwen wasn't listening at all. "Blurrrgh!" Gwen vomited yet again, this time her ejecta was mostly tea and stomach acid. She wondered if her brain would leak out of her ears, or if her mana conduits would erupt. Heedlessly, she rolled across her own sick, splashing about the floor groaning and moaning like a dying fish. In her Pocket Dimensions, Caliban howled, while Ariel whimpered. Unbidden, she began to convulse even as her face took on the texture and hue of raw pastry. Beside the epileptic Gwen, her sister-in-craft grew suddenly nervous. _Phssht!_ The doors to the chamber clanged open. In came Dean Luo, Walken, Magus Ma and a troop of Military Mages from both the PLA and the Pudong Tower. "Gwen!" the Dean ran to his trophy Mage with a face full of genuine worry. "Mao! What have you done to her?" "It's just… a duel…" a croaking voice came from the girl. "My sister's teaching me…" Walken likewise knelt beside Gwen, looking as though he wanted to help the girl. However, the Magister stopped short of picking his student up from the floor. With a critical glare, he turned his disapproving eyes up toward his ward's sister-in-craft. "Ma says that's her shijie." A PLA Military Mage shivered. "Brutal… too brutal." Another shook his head. "Gweilos are heartless, eh?" "They only care about winning." "Do you mind?" Walken indicated to the girl on the floor, his lips thin and hypercritical. "Do I have your permission to take her to the infirmary?" By now, Alesia's face was flashing red and white. "I'll do it!" The sorceress picked up her sister-in-craft. Gwen fell into her sister's soft body as she grew increasingly senseless. The last thing she heard was Alesia conversing with the others. "Miss de Botton." Alan bowed his head, then indicated to the Military Mages. "Magister Walken and Dean Luo have chosen not to press charges, but we need you on the record…" "I understand." Alesia's worry for her sister-in-craft overshadowed her desire to drag Walken down with her. "I'll meet you outside the infirmary. Can someone lead me there?" The crowd parted. The Scarlet Sorceress departed with her sibling-in-craft. When the door clicked, the Dean turned to his Grey Faction colleague with an amused expression. "I got some of the paparazzi to surround the front. I think it's going to make a nice headline," he remarked. "Why were you winking at her? The girl's going to be bed-ridden for days." Walken exhaled, then appeared both embarrassed and anxious. He glanced at the expelled scones on the floor, then wrinkled his nose. "I thought she was faking it…"

The underwhelming headlined, "Hellish Training at Fudan: Gwen Song Injured!" made the fourth page of the People's Telegraph, accompanied by an apology from Alesia de Botton, Heroine of the Coral Sea Conflict, and a hefty fine in CCs and HDMs for illicit use of magic. A day later, a second statement from Magister Gunther Shultz crawled its way through the grapevine. "Miss Gwen Song's relationship with Magus de Botton and I will be clarified in time." The charismatic man smiled for the lumen-recorders. "At this point, the details are well known to those who have a right to know. Until then, I wish our sorceress fair winds in her endeavours." The last remark was well calculated, leading to yet more speculation. Some professional commentators stated that it made perfect sense for Gwen Song to be Henry Kilroy's hidden disciple, for her access to not one, but two unique Familiars smacked firmly of the later Tower Master's most lauded area of magic. Others critiqued that this was yet another attempt by outside forces to subvert the fairness of the IIUC, hinting that someone with as much influence as Shultz should not be publicly backing a candidate. Meanwhile, the victim of the fiasco herself spent two days at her grandmother's hospital with mana sickness, falling in and out of fatigued sleep as her body recovered. "You can manifest TWO of those spells at once?" Alesia sat on one side of Gwen's bed, while Walken sat on the other. "Ariel duplicates them through its horns..." Gwen cuddled the mewling Kirin as it sat between her legs. Below, Caliban coiled under the bedstand. Thanks to her babulya's influence, a VIP room at the Second PLA hospital was an absolute certainty. "Eee! EE!" Ariel cried out. "It's growing back!" Gwen kissed her Familiar's scalp. "I can see some fuzz already." "Sorry..." Alesia patted Ariel's silky fish-tail. Arriving at the hospital had been a harrowing experience for the Scarlet Sorceress. When Alesia had finally met Gwen's frantic grandmother, her shame was so dire that all of her prideful arrogance dissolved at once. She apologised profusely to the grim-faced old lady whom Gwen had repeatedly labelled the kindest human being on this living earth, barring their late master. On the opposite side, seeing Alesia so cowed filled Walken with satisfaction, for he had finally found a hard counter to the indomitable Alesia de Botton's fiery impulses. In his memory, Kilroy never fully reigned in Alesia. Without Kilroy, Gwen and Alesia were made of far more malleable metal. But that would come later. For now, Alesia's temporary loss of temerity afforded Walken a chance to initiate a Grey Faction speciality. With great solemnity, he slid forward an elegant wooden box bound with plated mithril and etched gold. "Magus de Botton, for a while now, I had hoped to return this to its rightful holder. In offering this olive branch between us, I hope I can be of some help to yourself, Magister Shultz, and of course, our mutual student." Seeing that Alesia appeared hesitant, Gwen took the liberty of opening the brass-buckled lid. Within, twelve egg-sized Ioun Stones winked back at the pair of suddenly emotional women. "Master's collection!" Alesia gasped. "Opa made these!" Gwen touched a hand to her lips, then corrected herself. "Well, some of these…" "Only a few are truly precious," Walken explained. "Though a prismatic set is all the rarer when gathered. Would you like an introduction? I don't think either of you has seen Henry's completed collection." "YES!" Gwen's eyes sparkled. Ioun Stones were a girl's best friend. Alesia relented. "Let's begin with the brilliant-cut Garnet," Walken began, pointing to the first stone. "Henry picked this one up in Tanzania while suppressing the Popobawa, a kind of primordial vampire. It allows one to resist physical side-effects, such as being stunned." "Ooo..." Gwen felt her fingers twitch. "That one's a trilliant-cut Amethyst. Believe it or not, Henry said he found this one inside a Bone Golem in Tajikistan, guarding the tomb of an old Necromancer. It grants protection against Necromantic magic." "This one is a mixed-cut Aquamarine: that's a gem with an easy history. Kilroy received this one during the Coral Sea War. I am fairly certain you were there, Alesia. Gunther retrieved it during that clash in Hamilton, do you recall?" "The one with the seahorses? Their spurt-lances was a bitch to deal with." "Yes, the Wave Riders," Walken corrected her. "The Captain of the Coral Knights of Queen Zeim had this on his helmet." Alesia held the stone nostalgically. Gwen cooed with worship. "And now enchanted to allow water breathing and superior movement underwater." Walken moved across to the next gem, a fingernail-sized diamond. "This one's a rare one. A Royal Asscher Radiant Diamond. What do you think it does?" "Be my best friend?" Gwen's eyes gleamed at the ten-thousand fold facade refracting the light. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Walken chuckled at the girl's undisguised greed. "No. It enhances your Shield, making the surface more rigid, like a Mineral Mage. Perfect for elementalists. This next one is an emerald-cut Moss Stone, from the Elfhome of Mossvale in Ireland. It enhances positive energy, and so are useful for healers. I had thought of giving you this one before, but your negative energy would likely shatter or disable it. Your grandfather was the inscriber." "Aww… what's this one?" "Ah- that's a Briolette-cut Alexandrite," Alesia interjected. "I recall Master receiving it from the Ural Mountains, from the Hill Dwarves of Yekaterinburg. It's beyond precious." "Correct," Walken affirmed Alesia's recollection. "The Alexandrite has an inscription-cut patented by the Enchanter-Meister Gabi Tolkowsky, containing a superior Comprehend Language engraving, allowing for communication in Sylvan, Elven, Dwarven, and twenty-seven Demi-human languages." Gwen gulped, her drake-tainted soul aching for the stone's ownership. "And these are masterworks inscribed by Surya." Walken finger-walked through the next few. "The Brilliant Ruby enhances fire affinity and provides heat resistance. The Barion Sapphire does the same for Ice and Water Magic. The Pyramidal Topaz allows for supplementary affinity for Air and Lightning, and finally, the Tiger's Eye empowers Earth." Two more Ioun Stones remained. "This one is a failure." Walken pointed to a Teardrop Pink Tourmaline. "Its suppose to enable mental restoration, but it instead grants resistance to poisons. I don't know what Magus Huang was doing when he made this." Probably distracted by something erotic, Gwen hazarded a guess. "I suppose that means its rare in an unintended way." Walken shrugged. "Finally, we have another old-world Asscher-cut, this one's a Blue Zircon, the pride and joy of Henry's collection- it once belonged to your brother-in-craft." "Does Gunther know the Asscher family?" Gwen inquired, impressed with the brilliance of the Ioun Stone. "They're acquainted." Alesia cleared her throat. "There's a very awkward bit of modern history there…" Walken scratched his head. "Before the establishment of the Pan-European Treaty of Versaille after the Beast Tide, the city-states of Europe descended into a sort of resource-madness. They fought over history, grudges, religion, trade routes, colonies, new Frontiers; you name it. It was the Golden Age of Spellcraft warfare, and the two major contenders were the Reich and the Mageocracy." Gwen recollected that indeed, there had been mention of such things in her history books. As for "Modern History", her censored textbooks after the 1971 awakening of the Black Sea Dragon catalysed the rise of Magical Beasts around the world, coinciding with the rise of the Mermen Empires from the depth below. The pre-war period possessed nowhere near the same volume of information. "That's right." Walken nodded. "Did you know Gunther's family was involved right up to their necks? I bet he never talks about that particular part of his past, hmm? When Berlin briefly occupied Amsterdam, Gunther's grandfather, Generalmajor Otto von Shultz, amassed a wealth of gems and artefacts, most of which Gunther had since returned to the surviving families. It's one of the reasons why he enjoys such renown in Europe, and why he left his homeland." "An apologist," Alesia butted in. "That's what some people called him." "Yes, well." Walken coughed. "It's not like England hasn't had its share of troubles. India, Burma, the razing of the Falkland Islands, those were exceptional times that called for extreme measures. In my estimation of Gunther, I think he chose to follow your Master, not because of criticism from the aristocracy, but because he had no wish to carry on what he saw as a tainted legacy. If I was the last von Shultz, carving out a new Frontier would also be my preferred Path." "Gunther told me his old haunt was in Bavaria, near Breitenegg. They're minor nobility, aren't they?" "Is that what he said?" "Yes." Alesia coughed. "Then that's that," Walken agreed. Gwen chewed her lips, trembling with curiosity. "So, what does this gem do?" Alesia changed the subject. "It diffuses Negative Energy." Walken watched his student's face. "Kilroy requested it, but alas... " The rest was best left unsaid. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it "And you're returning this to us?" Alesia smacked her ruby-lips together. "Just like that." "Well, its a bribe…" Walken confessed openly, proud of the fact. "Are you not sufficiently placated by the return of these priceless mementoes?" "I see." Alesia pulled the box closer. "You shall live, for now. Gwen, what stones ya got?" Gwen touched a hand to the back of her head. Hidden inside her hair and adhered to her neck was her babulya's Stone of Clarified Thought and a Comprehend Language stone. Revealing her pale, long neck, she showed them both to Alesia. "What's that?" Walken pointed to an opalescent scale embedded at the base of her skull. "Ah, that's Ayxin's gift," she explained with nonchalance. "It helps me regulate my Essence." "Draconic Essence?" "Aye." Her two instructors looked one another in the eye. "You can attune up to four Stones, generally speaking." Alesia pulled back her hair to reveal that she too had a private collection, running from the base of her neck down between her attractive shoulders. "Mine are Ruby-Agate, Fire Opal. Pink Diamond, and a Blood Hematite." Walken whistled. "An Asscher-cut Argyle Diamond? A gift from Gunther?" Gwen wiggled her brows suggestively. "No wonder she beat you black and blue. Your sister-in-craft is running no less than four rare damage-amplification Ioun Stones." Walken inclined his chin at Gwen, as though a great puzzle had resolved itself. "Little wonder her cantrip was at Fireball strength." "Anyway." Alesia pulled out three stones - the Blue Zircon, the Radiant Diamond, and the Pyramidal Topaz. "These are yours. Pick one more." "May I…" Gwen swallowed. For someone like her, a superior translation stone was unimaginably helpful. "Have the Alexandrite? Also, can I swap the topaz for the garnet?" Alesia removed the purple gem and the garnet, then tossed it across the bed. Gwen palmed the stones. The Zircon would somehow mitigate some of her Negative Energy, hopefully in a manner akin to Percy's amulet. The Alexandrite would improve her coherency and language options. The Radiant Diamond increased the rigidity of her twin-Shields. And finally, the Garnet would hopefully reduce the chance of her being stunned by disruptions and counterspells. "Four for each of us." Alesia removed an inferior ruby from her neck, then attuned the one made by Gwen's Opa. "The activation glyph is inside the lid of the box. I'll take the rest to Gunther." "Gotcha." Gwen removed her mundane translation stones from her neck, then embedded her new accessories through the attunement ritual inside the box. The only one she kept unadorned was the diamond, for she preferred the mental-fatigue negation offered by her babulya's gift. "Now that our Master's legacy physically links us." Alesia pointed a finger to Walken. "It'll be easier to hunt down our prey." Walken stared, as did Gwen. "That was a joke." "Hahaha…" Gwen laughed drily. "Hohoho…" Walken joined in. "One day, I am going to catch you red-handed." Alesia packed the box into her Storage Ring then glared at Walken. "Don't you think for a moment that I am going to let my innocent sister fall into your grubby hands." "I wouldn't dream of it." Walken put up both palms as if in defeat. "I am her humble instructor, nothing more." "As for you." Alesia turned toward her sister-in-craft. Gwen swallowed. Maybe she should have equipped the diamond. Alesia's lips curled. "I am going to pound some spell-doctrine back into your head." By mid-October, the second round of the Asian Qualifiers had gone underway. With Fudan occupying one slot by default, the remaining teams competed for the remaining spot on Jeju Island. As for Gwen, Alesia made good on her promise of sparring her until she spewed, while Gwen retaliated by drinking Alesia under until she painted the sidewalks outside the Waldorf-Astoria. "Alesia, why are your spells so damn fast?" Gwen inquired as she panted against the cold training barrier. "How much practice will I need?" "A lot more, that and I am using Master's variants," Alesia notified her sister-in-craft. "I've been provisioned all the way to tier 8... " One of the reasons why she had hasted-spells, Alesia explained, was because their Master improved them. That was also why she was teaching Gwen their master's Bilby's Hand. "It's a spell you'll grow into." Alesia left her with an oft-heard aphorism. "Since I am here, let's do our best to get Maelstrom happening as well, shall we? Master's variation is much easier to utilise. Get up!" Alesia's Boot Camp, as expected, was hell. Compared to Walken's training, her sister's methods were militant to the extreme, consisting of a level of physical and mental exhaustion that challenged even Gwen's Essence-infused stamina. A week later, Gwen threw a big bash to introduce Alesia to her friends and family, including Ayxin. When rattling off the guest list and presenting each of her Shanghai allies, Alesia grew incredulous. "You invited your father's brother and a dragon-kin, but not your Mother or Father?" Alesia knew Gwen had family troubles, but the extent of her sister's complex was only now beginning to materialise. "I left it to babulya to invite father," Gwen corrected her sister-in-craft. "I feel awkward with his new kid, and his wife hates me... you know?" As an orphan twice-over, Alesia felt she wasn't qualified to comment. She had only Gunther and Gwen to speak of, and her fiancè loathed the topic of his family. A day later, the gathering took place at the Four Seasons' panoramic-lounge overlooking the Bund. There, Gwen graciously introduced Alesia to the famous PLA Captain known as the Ash Bringer, as well as the woman-shaped dragon, Ayxin of Huangshan. "Nonsense, how could I compare to the Scarlet Sorceress?" Jun's modesty was pleasing to Alesia, who loathed her fame, especially when it transformed into infamy following the incident with Walken. The number of times Alesia had to accept duels because she couldn't withstand the goading couldn't be counted even with her toes. While the two military professionals exchanged humblebrags, Gwen made small talk with Ayxin about her eldest. "Ruxin says he couldn't have done it without you." Ayxin regarded Gwen with suspicion, studying the girl's aesthetic physique. For the occasion, Gwen wore a strapless halter-dress that juxtaposed a Victorian front with an almost scandalously revealing back. "You're not involved with my brother, are you?" "What? No!" Gwen spluttered. "Ruxin is like, five-hundred? I am far too young for him, and he's far too old." "But you're at the prime breeding age for humans, are you not?" "WOA!" Gwen waved her hands. "Word choice!" "What's this, does Gwen have a beau?" Alesia butted in, having heard the B-word. "Both of my brothers are keen on your sister-in-craft," Ayxin taunted Jun's niece. "Two Princes of Huangshan, one effectively a demi-god by human standards, she should be so flattered." "They're both dragons…" Gwen added flatly. "Ah," Alesia teased Gwen about her fictional flings with the draconic demi-humans. "I would very much like to meet them one day. I don't know how Gunther would feel about you dating dragons, I mean, we're the Middle Faction, but hey, true love and all that." "Bloody hell, Allie—" Gwen felt her back beginning to sweat. Ruxin was cool. His human form was a rung above Gunther, and the guy was diplomatic to boot, possessing just the right amount of goofiness, but Golos? Golos meeting Alesia? What would be the first thing out of his mouth? It was probably something like, "Oi, nice Fire Element, want sum fuk?" Followed by instant decapitation by Gunther. After that? The awakening of the Yinglong and the fall of Shanghai into the South China Sea. "I would very much like to meet this Gunther of yours as well," Ayxin politely addressed Gwen's mentor. "The Morning Star's prowess, if what Jun says is true, is on par with Ruxin, though I find it difficult to believe that a human could attain such destructive potential." "The rumours don't do him justice." Gwen chuckled. "He once decapitated a Leviathan with one spell." "Then he must be a most impressive specimen!" Ayxin's voice took on a sudden seriousness. "Miss Alesia, if you have mated with Magister Shultz, why have you not spawned offspring?" "What?" Alesia spluttered. "You mean babies? Well, I mean- we're not planning, not really…" "I would like to know the details." Ayxin leaned in closer. "Are you having trouble conceiving? I require knowledge of how higher-tier Mages manage physiological..." "Gwen, come here." Jun pulled her away. "Go join your cousins and your friends." "Uncle, I am eighteen. I know how the dragons and the phoenixes work." "Just… go. Please?" Gwen sighed. "I'll be over there." Jun exhaled with relief, then guided the gossiping women toward a private corner. "Welcome back." Petra was having fun ingratiating herself into the team. As a trained professional, Gwen's cousin slid into the ranks as easily as a Spellcube into her Storage Ring. "Thanks." Gwen took a glass of red wine from an attentive waiter. "How's everyone going?" "Training day and night." Jiro was in seventh heaven when he found out that the Flower of Fudan would be a permanent addition to the team. According to his overzealous confession, he'd been crushing hard on Petra since he was a first-year. "I am at the moment mastering Bounding Flames after witnessing your Chain Lightning. Miss Petra, all my spells are at your disposal!" "I am flattered." Petra clinked glasses with the Fire Mage. "I shall use them well." Jiro's joy grew boundless. "Ow!" Rene kicked him in the shins. "How are the Spirits coming along?" Gwen asked both Petra and Lulan. "A long way to go." Lulan seemed crestfallen. "I am still having a hard time against Jinwei. The Spirit is difficult to control." "Aww." With a warm hug, Gwen assured her friend that her setback was temporary. "Lulu. I am confident you'll be able to master it and surprise us all." "Gwennie?" Mayuree materialised, looking cute as a button in a lace mini dress. "Mia! Where did you go?" "A parcel arrived for us at the concierge." Mayuree raised her Storage Ring, then retrieved a Message Stone. "It's from Marong. He says it contains critical information for our next matches." The rest of the team huddled. "Let's take this somewhere private," Gwen recommended they move to a separate room. Perhaps in deference to Alesia, their instructor had not attended her party. Mayuree invoked the secret glyph. "Gwen, Marong here. I've got some information you might be interested in." The young man's voice came through the stone. "This won't hit the news for another week, but here are the latest payouts from the betting houses…" Mayuree translated Marong's bookie lingo into a breakdown of their future opponents. Oxford University was the top seed, the big dog, the proverbial sky above the sky, offering a mere one-point-two in odds to win the whole damn thing. They were followed shortly by Europe's winners who beat France, Spain and Italy: Germany's Ludwig Maximilian University, and to no one's surprise, London's Royal Imperial Sorcerous College. Famously, the European competition was a microcosmic IIUC of its own accord, dubbed the "group of death", it was a warm-up to the Europe-only Inter-European University Cup in April. Then came the Americans, Stanford University and the Massachusetts Institute of Thaumaturgy in Cambridge, the east and west of a nation bisected by endless Purple and Black Zones from the deserts of Nevada to the Saurian wetlands of Mississippi. After the favourites, came the underdogs. Asia's twin participants consisted of Fudan University and Tokyo University, surprisingly boasting even odds, despite Tokyo's rank superiority. Oceania's representative consisted of the University of Auckland and Nanyang Spellcraft University from the fortress city of Singapore. Thanks to the Mermen invasion, Australia's top institutions had been thrown into chaos, and so rescinded their participation, paving the way for Auckland. Nanyang was itself strongly affiliated with Oxford and Cambridge, established after alumni broke from the Mageocracy to support Singapore's independence in the 50s. Meso and South America's winners were Cuzco National University and The School of the Golden Sun. Both were unorthodox colleges only recently with skin in the game, having embraced the teaching of Spellcraft a mere three decades prior and very much influential in fields yet unexplored by modern Spellcraft. Finally, from North Africa, Cairo University and its southern sibling, the Sorcerous Academy of Pretoria, originally an offshoot of London Imperial, marked the challenge from the continent with the largest demi-human presence. "Holy hell." Gwen grimaced. "What world-rank are we?" Petra's lips pursed. "154th." "Wow!" Gwen almost swirled the wine back into her glass. "What kind of competition are we looking at?" "You sure you want to know?" "Better now than later." "Oxford is the undisputed No.1 Magical institution for Spellcraft, followed by Stanford, MIT and London Imperial vying for No.2 to 5. Tokyo is 29th. Nanyang is 12th, I think. LMU is 24th. Auckland is in the 90s, and Pretoria in the 80s. The only universities in our range are Cairo at 224th, Cuzco at 197th and Golden Sun at 162nd." "Which means our next competitors should be someone close to us in our rankings." Anita had done her homework. "Next, we'll be going against Cairo, Cuzco, or Golden Sun." "And assuming we win, round 2 is going to be absurdly difficult," Petra affirmed her worries. "Chances are we'll be running into at least one university with a sub 50 rank in round 2, and if we make round 3…" The horror, the horror, Gwen shivered. Her teammates' expressions suggested they could hardly believe that Fudan could face the world's uppermost academic existences like MIT, Stanford, Oxford or London Imperial. She suddenly felt the feeling of being a big fish in a small pond. Compared to cities like NY, London, Paris or Berlin, the rat-race in Shanghai was not dominated by Displacer Beasts. With Marong's Message played out, the team fell into poor spirits, each realising that their bright futures concurrently cast long and sinister shadows, ones that may yet swallow them all.

Mid-October was the best time of year to visit Shanghai, for the superstructural Tower's hazy barrier kept the city cosy as its deciduous flora turned to fire. At Guoding B1, above the autumn trees, Alesia and Gwen endlessly teased Gunther's iron-willed patience. After a while, Alesia grew thirsty; when she returned, Gunther had skillfully steered the conversation toward Surya, Gwen's grandfather. "Tell Opa I love him, and that I'll be able to return in another year, two at most." Gwen said. "Thanks for looking after him, Gunther." After Alesia poured herself and Gwen a glass of soda, the topic shifted to closer concerns. "I've heard on the grapevine that you're likely facing off the South or Meso American institutions first." Gunther appeared entirely relaxed. "Fudan's low ranking may be a blessing yet. If you can defeat the rank 27th Kyoto, the less orthodox universities shouldn't be too much trouble. There's going to be one problem though." "What's that?" "The lower-ranked university gets to pick the grounds, so there's a good chance you'll be travelling the Andes or Mexico City." "Wow," Gwen gushed. "I would love that." "Love what?" Gunther chuckled. "Do you have any idea how powerful Spirit Magic can be when used by Shamans on their home turf? The very mountain will turn against you if you're not careful." "Oh…" "'Oh' indeed," Gunther continued. "Consult Walken. He's spent a few years here and there on the Mageocracy's behalf. What are you hoping to accomplish in the next three weeks?" "Bilby's Hand from Alesia, and Walken's almost done with preparations for Planar Ally." "An Ally? It's a risky spell- fantastic if you can manage it, but..." "I think I'll manage," Gwen replied with confidence. "Then the best of luck to you." Gunther nodded. "Don't force it. If the creature refuses to obey or make a deal, let it go. With your access to resources, it should be no trouble to try again when you've gained more mastery." "Thanks, Gunther." "No worries, and thank you for taking care of Alesia—" "Who's taking care of WHO?!" Alesia shouted from the couch, ready for round two. The LRM Device whined down. All that was left was to train, spar, and study. Nagaland. Jade Palace. Ruxin wondered what he should do next. He was bored, and therefore, he felt cheated. The reason for his ambivalence was because his treasury was empty. And yet, he possessed more "wealth" than in any moment of his five centuries of life. The predicament was that his "treasure" was now a string of human-numbers on a data slate. "My Lord, the procurement of Crystals will take close to a decade, else we shall drive up the price of your desired elemental crystals recklessly," Marong had informed him. "While I stockpile the necessary jadeite and nephrite, rest assured that your earnings have been invested. It's split between The House of M's jade venture, primary industries and the Centurion program. Furthermore, I have taken the liberty of inviting you to sit on the Board. The Grey Faction has consented..." Ruxin paced back and forth in the near-empty vault as he ruminated over Marong's report. A week ago, as tit-for-tat for the Spirit Cores, the Calamity had delivered a proposal of such ruthless tyranny that even Ruxin felt bedazzled. What their young financier had proposed in a two-hundred-page document was something called commodity monopoly in conjunction with supply capture and superficial-constraint. As Kachin produced the best jadeite and nephrite bar none, she explained, they would set the classification of the precious mineral. Simultaneously, through its auction network, The House of M would hoard all higher-grade jade while weakening foreign markets with lower-tier stones sold at cost. Then, they would trade "Kachin Jade" as a branded commodity by propagating the idea that New Zealand greenstone and Vietnamese serpent stone were inferior facsimiles. Accordingly, when Yangon's monopoly matured, the rarity of high and hyper-tier stones would fetch higher barter value for the crystals Ruxin desired. Furthermore, regulation capture could be enacted through feeding officials a slice of the profit- paid in jade- which would naturally ensure loyalty to the system established by the House of M. All of which were concepts that escaped Ruxin's understanding of human economics. That, and against the girl's knowledge, Ruxin double-dipped from her longterm investments in Tonglv, as well as the ever-swelling income from the Centurion program. The result was far grander than Ruxin had anticipated. Rather than razing cities and demanding ransom, these humans would race one another to pile crystals into his treasury. Where he had expected to be fighting powerful beings, he now sat on his throne, reading the paperwork and waiting for his crystals to arrive. It was a most un-dragon-like activity, one that he had engineered. He wondered if this was why his father slept all the time. "Gwen Song…" Ruxin felt a troubling uncertainty. "Calamity…" Once more, he 'owed' the girl, for their exchange had grown askew. As the girl said, she liked balanced accounts, and so did Ruxin. He would have to find something else to give her. Thankfully, he had a layabout brother to spare. "I am bored," Ruxin confessed to the empty room. He needed what humans called a hobby. Maybe, he would tease Tika again; there's always sport in that. Fifty kilometres from Shanghai, there existed a series of sandbar islands. An old spell-testing ground, the islands existed just outside of the PLA superstructural Tower's coverage, forming a part of the Xima-Anshan archipelago, three hours travel by ship from Jinshan, Shanghai's southern-most metropolitan buildup. The island was inhabited by friendly demi-humans who had long since adapted to living beside humanity, surviving by trading fish from the South China Sea. Though the Merman had a name for their home, human fishermen nonetheless labelled the rocky outcrop "Dawugui", meaning big turtle, while the bar of igneous rock was "Jifenjiao" or chicken-shit reef. Though the Mermen protested the name; it was to no avail. Shanghai's Secretariat had no love for demi-humans from "Turd Island". So it was that the Jifen-folk gathered at the turtle's most generous "turd" to witness a plot of human Mages poking at the fabric of reality with a short-stick. "Here-ya-go!" A skinny female gave out cans of SPAM to the small Mermen children, watching with wide-eyed wonder as they retreated with their oiled palms back to their parents. "You can speak our language?" Elder Lei-bup was surprised because the humans never spoke the Mermen's accented, gibbering tongue, a language as effective in water as it was on land. "I suppose." The female appeared thrilled. Behind her, two senior Mages made Lei-bup nervous. "What are you doing here?" Lei-bup demanded, feeling more confident that this human was reasonable. The female had fur the colour of charcoal, and her complexion was like the grubs one found in rotting logs. Watching her spindly limbs, Lei-bup felt unimpressed. "We're working on a summoning, and my instructors said that this was a spell-testing ground…" the girl grinned. "Look, I'll minimise the damage, and compensate you for the temporary land lease, is there anything you need?" In his fishy guts, Lei-bup sensed that a great opportunity had arrived. "One hundred kilos of brown rice!" he boasted. "… and ten HDMs!" "Done!" The gullible female struck out a hand, then passed over a currency card. "Gurrp!" Lei-bup shook the fleshy appendage, gifting the human a handful of his thickest secretions. "Gwen, what are you doing?" Walken watched his student traffic in trade with the local rabble. "I am trying out the Ioun Stone." The girl returned to her place beside the two Magisters. Apart from Wen and Walken, there were also observers from both the PLA and the Pudong Towers. Thankfully, de Botton was uninvited, thanks to their fiasco, she had been ordered to stay within the Tower's range. Instead, he focused on the spell he had spent the last week cramming into his student's head. **Summon Planar Ally (Variant)** Conjuration (6) Casting Time: 220 Major, 22 Minor Incantation, Tier 6 Summoning Mandala Range: N/A Components: Somatic, Verbal, Glyph, Enchanter tier 6 Duration: N/A _A variation modified by Magister Eric Walken of Sydney. As with Planar Ally, the spell opens a portal into an Elemental Plane activated by the caster's Affinity via the accompanying Mandala. Upon completion, a being of a variable tier will manifest. Once conjured, negotiation with said being shall take place. The maximum time allotment is dependent on the expertise of the accompanying Enchanter inscribing the Glyph. Magister Walken's variation allows for higher tiers of control than the original. For additional theoretical framework, please consult the documentation for Schliersberg's Planar Ally._ If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. To provide context for the spell, he had extolled the work of Magister Derik Schliersberg, a renowned summoner. Schliersberg's family attended the region of the Schliersee Mountains, now a Green Zone of immense agricultural value. In his youth, as a passionate anthropologist, Schliersberg had travelled the known world, collating data on cultures that worshipped primal Spirits and Elemental Gods. In 1937, he finalised the first Spellcraft variation of Planar Ally, allowing Western Mages with no history of Spiritual worship to entrap and commune with Elemental beings. Since the spell's conception, notable episodes in the Pan-European conflict, the Sino Conflict, the Sino-American War over Hawaii and the Indochina Conflict had elevated its esteem. When Magister Schliersberg reached the end of his life in 1984, a posthumous title of Meister was granted. Walken's student had devoured the spell's history with keen interest, though one caveat remained. As a part of the summoning ritual, the Conjurer was required to visualise the type of beings they desired to call. If a Conjurer served the Vatican, then something with white wings was almost assured. If one's shamanistic faith worshipped one-eyed fire Gods, then that's what one got. "Your Kurchatov's pentagram is flawed," Wen snapped at Petra, waking Walken from his work. "Pay attention to the Glyph, not to your cousin's dilly-dally with the local fish." "Yes, ma'am!" Walken had to admit that when Wen was at work, she was impressive. There was a commitment and dedication there that few people could attain even if they had the talent and the imagination. His job, conversely, was etching the Mandala with materials Gwen had acquired from Marong and the House of M. For materials, they had spared no expense. Hyper-tier materials from the ichor of an Evil-Eye, mithril from Dwarven Bavaria and palladium from Ethiopia had all been paid for by his student's seemingly endless capacity to generate wealth. Additionally, he had instructed Wen to implement a purge function. For both himself and Wen, as well as other invested parties, the choice of Planar Ally was two-fold. First, they were interested to know what exactly existed in the Void and what someone of her reputation could call forth. Secondly, a Planar Ally was a force-multiplier against opponents that are arguably far more skilful, proficient, powerful and learned than herself. "Gwen, we're ready." Walken straightened his back with an audible groan. "There's got to be a better way than lying on a levitation platform. I don't remember it being this hard." ` The finished Mandala was enormous. It was etched out on the beaten sandstone, a little larger than the size of a tennis court. For his student, Walken had spared none of her expense. "Petra!" Wen called out. "Inject the mana crystals!" From higher up on the hill, Petra materialised a crate of high-density mana crystals and placed them into a ring of glyphs leading away from the actual Glyph-structure. Walken watched as a line of raw mana turned the array a brilliant silver. "The re-summoning Mandala is much simpler," he assured his student. "Inscribing it will raise your proficiency with Enchantment as well." "Great." His student took a deep breath. "What should I expect?" "You're Kilroy's student." Walken's eyes twinkled. "Surprise me?" "Alright." Gwen stepped into the portion of the circle made for her protection. "Prepare to be surprised." "It's coming!" Wen called out to Walken as the Mandala lit up like a torch. "What do you think she'll summon?" "Something draconic, I bet." Walken could feel his heart pounding in anticipation. Within the summoning chamber, a lightning-flare burst over the rune-etched landscape, materialising into a majestic shape. "It's draconic!" Walken shouted over the crackling thunder. "Beautiful!" Wen was likewise impressed. "It looks at least tier 10, maybe higher." The light faded, first revealing a crowned ridge of ivory and bone, followed by a long, serpentine neck armoured with interlocking plates. At its base, a powerful chest linking two enormous bat-wings joined a robust torso held up by tree-trunk legs armoured in azure, ending with a spiked tail. "Eric," Wen remarked to the agape Walken. "Does that wyvern look familiar to you?" Gwen felt a gut-tingling sense of foreshadowing when she pumped her conduits full of Essence and Lightning. According to her instructors, the space-time magic would tear into the Quasi-Elemental Plane of Lightning to bring forth a suitably robust, and most importantly, intelligent, creature, one capable of bargaining. Instead, what materialised was a sight she had not expected to see for some time, one that was infeasible, considering her spell's objective. With the hysterical electricity faded, Golos landed in the Summoning Mandala. "…" The Wyvern stared at the girl summoner. "… Yo." She waved. "Fancy seeing you again. Why are you here?" "Hmmph!" Golos exhaled motes of lightning. "Ruxin says he is indebted to you, and therefore, I am indebted to you." "And what debt is that?" She cocked her head. "... " "Suit yourself." Gwen respected the Wyvern's sulky silence, realising he may be referring to her returned 'favour'. Mayuree's brother had been very forthcoming in stating that their new landed neighbour had tasked him to enrich the north's resources. To ensure that the House of M did not suffer, she had thought up a ploy involving a Jade monopoly. In her old world, this was impossible due to the turmoil in Burma. In this world, with Ruxin as a backer, a few decades of De Beer style monopoly with the House of M at the helm should be manageable. Gwen raised a hand. "What's your price?" "To repay Ruxin." "I don't think that's for me to decide," she replied. "Did Ruxin say how long your servitude should last? I mean, how the hell did you even get here?" "Ruxin has his ways," Golos stated contemptuously. In the next moment, his gaze wandered. "Hmm, you have readied snacks? I could eat." "Snacks?" Gwen turned to her right, following Golos' gaze. There, she saw Elder Lei-bup and a dozen Mermen warriors, shitting themselves while half-paralysed by the wave of dragon-fear radiating from Golos' body. "No. Those are not snacks. They're people. Golos. Not snacks." "Hee, you cannot deny me!" Golo strode forward, then ran smack-bang into the wall of force. There was a moment of incredulous confusion before the Wyvern grew wrathful. "You dare ENSNARE me? I am no summoned wyrm!" "And why not? You're literally in my summoning circle!" Gwen spat back at Golos, irked by the Wyvern's ego. Golos was going to be one useless ally if he couldn't even follow orders. "If Ruxin says you'll obey me, what's the problem?" "Impudent!" Golos growled, then let loose a line of lightning from its jaws to dash against the barrier. "You want to be in debt to Ruxin forever?!" Gwen fired back. "Ruxin marked me so that I would come to you," Golos growled, its beady eyes malicious and cunning. "And so I have! Each time you call, I shall come to you, and no more! Hahaha!" "Golos, you're as thick as a log!" Gwen raised her voice. "Go back and tell Ruxin to send me a properly trained dog!" "ROAR!" Golos smashed itself against the barrier. "Enough! You are not the master of me!" "Oh, is that how it is?" Gwen snapped her finger, calling for Caliban. "SHAA!" Caliban was ready for more draconic adventures. "FOOL!" the Wyvern howled, smothering the interior of the barrier with blue-white lightning. Its scales fulminated with retina-searing discharge. "I have grown! Never again shall your beast best me!" The ground shook, but the barrier held. Dragon-fear rippled out like a concentric wave, setting Walken and Wen to activate their Shields. Above, Petra and their PLA and Pudong observers circulated magic to resist the mind-numbing, pants-soiling horror spread by a primordial predator that had hunted man since the age of sticks and stones. Elder Lei-bup frothed at the mouth. "I think that thing's a tad above tier 11," Walken remarked, borrowing Draconic-Essence from his familiar. Besides him, Wen kept herself lucid through her Mineral mana, scarcely believing that Gwen was having a shouting match with a bus-sized drake. "How is it possible that she knows such a being by name?" Wen demanded, bewildered by the sight of their student's passionate haggling. "And speaking in Draconic?" "They met in Burma," Walken replied. "And Gwen's acquired a new Translation Stone from Alesia de Botton, one originally made for Henry Kilroy." "Impressive," Wen muttered. "Does this drake desire HDMs? They are hoarders, are they not?" "I think this one might have other things on its mind," Walken observed. "How is she going to tame it then?" "Not sure." Walken squinted against the light, his hand resting against the purging Glyph. "I am sure she'll figure something out." Golos wasn't an actual dragon, but as a scion of the Yinglong, he'd always considered himself above his kin that crawled along the ground or swam in the sea. Though he saw the female as almost his equal, he had never dreamt of serving as her subordinate. "Brother, I have a task for you. Go and aid my investment. Keep her safe." Golos dared not show displeasure to his brother, but in front of this mewling girl, he would bare his fangs to his heart's content! How dare she! What had she done to capture Ruxin's favour? For his brother, a scion of their great father, to possess an interest in the girl! It was unfathomable that he, Golos, a princeling of Huangshan, was less useful than some whelp barely out of her egg. And to trap him in a cage, no different to some common elemental! Threaten him with her black beast! Golos' tail twitched; his shame and anger boiled over, filling the air with the stink of ozone. "I have grown! Never again shall your beast best me!" "Look, forget about Ruxin for a second, what do you want?" The female's tone softened. "HDMs? I'll give you thousands, tens of thousands. Gems? Precious metal? Do you want SPAM? I can ship it by the ton." Looking around, Golos noticed that many human Mages were watching. If so, then the girl must be in an exhibition of some sort. Golos knew he wasn't smart like Ruxin, but he recognised leverage when he saw it. "Hehe…" He slithered an enormous, arm-thick tongue from his grinning maw. What did he want? His nostrils flared. The girl's scent was delicious, possessed of something far older and purer than even his father. Unbidden, Golos felt himself drooling over the unsoiled Essence. If he could taste it, then he would grow more powerful yet. "First, I would like some seafood, then, I want…" "No, and NO," his victim rebuffed his advance, her eyes grew offended. "Now you're dreaming, big guy." "You'll have to trust that I'll be delicate." Golos turned on what Ruxin referred to as his unique charm. "You're strong. You'll survive." "No means no." The girl flushed. Golos inhaled the pheromones falling off her like the fragrance of flowers. It was so thick and heavy that even for a being of Golos' magnitude, it was making his head spin. "Last chance..." Golos leered, confident that the girl was sure to capitulate. "You know what?" his victim hugged herself as her expression grew icy. "I know how to deal with rude bastards like you." Indeed, Gwen knew how to deal with rebellious Familiars. She was beside two instructors, a summoning circle and a creature in the bag- how could she not feel nostalgic? "Eric! I am starting the second summon!" she called out to her instructor. "What!? That's insane!" Walken called back. "It can't be done!" "It can!" Wen's eyes gleamed, suddenly realising the girls' game. "Are you going to use a Void Beast to quash the Thunder Wyvern?" "Preposterous!" Walken interrupted his colleague. "The barrier…" "…Will hold." Wen's eyes were aflame with zeal. "Walken, I need to see this." Walken stared into the researcher's semi-transparent, Mineral-tainted orbs. "Give me control of the termination Glyph." Wen passed over her half of the Glyph. Walken made the gesture to proceed. "Petra!" Wen Messaged her apprentice. When another cache worth a thousand HDMs entered the Mandala's circuits. A clamour of surprise broke out over the observers watching from a distance. "Golos, if you don't want to be stuck with a building-sized Caliban, now's your chance. Quash your pride, then fight for me." "Ha!" the Wyvern scoffed at her. "I shall destroy this thing you summon! You will lose everything, and then I shall return to Ruxin and inform him of your incompetence." "Fine, have it your way." Gwen stepped back. Caliban joined its master in the protected summoning circle. She began with the Major Incantations, her fingers drawing light-consuming Glyphs in the air as Void mana flooded her conduits. Thanks to her acquisition of the Blue Zircon, the initial hit of the Negative Energy felt blunted. Combined with her Essence, there was a significant increase in the efficacy of her Void-craft. "... _Yog-Sothoth_! Key to the gate where the spheres conjoin! Lä! Master of the Thousand Young..." According to Walken, to conjure an Elemental, she had to have ample knowledge of that which resided within the primordial energies of the quasi-realms. Golos had ruined her plans for a Coatl, but what of the Void? Who knew what the Void held? Caliban Delux? Her Void-beast didn't even have a physical form! If so, Gwen found herself with an unusual hypothesis. What if she could summon something that was fiction? What suited Caliban more than Lovecraft's twisted horrors? She had already drawn upon the author many times, whether to frighten Jun, or to shape her Elemental Swarm, albeit in that instance, she got lamprey-leeches, not goats, but still, it had worked. "... Lä! _Shub-Niggurath_! Lä! Master of the woods that wend! I conjure thee! Planar Ally!" As for Golos, Gwen had a pretty good idea what the Wyvern wanted, and there was no way in hell she was going to give that up. Who the hell did Golos think he was? A Demi-God sovereign of three frontiers? Not even a dinner-date? The guy can't even polymorph properly. She licked her drying lips. Soon, she would know whether her will shaped the Void, or whether it had a will of its own - either way, the stupendously arrogant Golos would bend the knee.

"HOLY HELL, WHAT IN CHRIST'S NAME IS THAT?" Walken knew he was in no danger, but put up a cursory barrier anyway. Something was coming through the uppermost quadrant of the Summoning circle, slithering into being via a tiny corner of corroded air, growing larger by the second. "It's a Void Being!" Wen commanded Petra to record the image while she furiously tallied the diagnostics. "My God! It's eating up the barrier's mana!" An obsidian tentacle oozed through, obfuscated by the vivid fluctuation of eldritch energies. "Petra! More Crystals!" Walken called out. "Gwen!" "I am in control!" Gwen shouted back. "Keep the barrier up!" _CRACK!_ A line of fulminating lightning erupted from Golos' jaws, obliterating the emerging mass from existence. "SHAAA!" Caliban burst into song. "SHAAA! SHAAA!" _Squelch..._ A tenebrous, inky gloop drooled through the invisible ceiling, resembling a monochromatic placenta. "ROAR!" Another line of lightning eradicated the tear. Golos panted. He was a half-blood, and the impurity of his heritage limited his ability to use dragon-breath continuously. But the Wyvern's efforts were futile. New intrusions rapidly grew until the cylindrical barrier's uppermost layer turned midnight, dispelling all heat. "Ho boy." Gwen retrieved a bottle of Maotai and began to chug the contents like a mana potion. Concurrently, she dropped to the floor three Spellcubes chocked full of high-tier Restorations, prepared by Petra. Now that she had Enchantment as one of her schools, she could remotely trigger the spells. "Is your vitality low?" sounded a Message from Petra. "For contingencies," Gwen replied. "I caught a big bastard." "This is history, Gwen. You're making history right now." Wen hijacked their conversation. "Focus! Don't let it slip away." What her instructor meant was that she was going to make history, though Gwen took the Magister's advice to heart. Redoubling her focus, she continued to stream her Void Mana into the Summoning Mandala. "GOLOS! Do you yield?!" she called out. "Or do you want to road-test The Thing?" If a lizard could blanch, Golos probably would have grown lighter in hue. "I shall crush your thing!" Golos croaked, steadfast in its arrogance, possessing more pride than sense. "Do your worst!" "SHAA!" Caliban chorused whole-heartedly. "SHAA! SHAA!" Gwen closed her eyes and did her best to will forth her best recollection. Yog-Sothoth was the gate and Shub-Niggurath, the mate; the two were well rounded as a pair, and not maliciously minded, a least toward inconsequential humans. As for what now spawned, her only wish was that it flew. Above the summoning circle, the darkness began to swirl, forming a portal of sorts. "IT'S COMING!" Wen's voice possessed the shrillness of a strangled cat. "By God! She's doing it!" A crow-black entity descended, leading the way with a rupture of innumerable feelers, each beetle-black and clad in ooze, puckering with tentacle-pink suckers resembling lampreys' maws. _WHAM!_ Golos slammed its spiked tail against the thing, shattering a hundred appendages and splattering the walls with tenebrous ink. "HA!" the Wyvern howled, crouching to ready another strike. "Weak!" The bulbous portion of the undulating globule now entered the material plane, swallowing all light and drawing the energies of the barrier into itself at an astounding rate. With each mote of Gwen's vitality, it grew larger, heavier-seeming, and more grotesque as strange boils and pustules bubbled at the surface, birthing agglutinations that hung from its bottom, resisting the call of gravity. A Shoggoth? Gwen wondered. Or at least, a viscous facsimile. The clamouring from the spectators grew to a feverish pitch. "Is that…" Walken blinked twice, then ran a passive self-diagnosis to ensure that he did not delude his own eyes. "The BLACK SUN?" "It has to be!" Wen looked as though she was about to dance a jig. "The great mystery! So that's what it was! We have to test it! We have to feed it!" "Back! You black brute of the Unformed Land!" Golos barked, evidently growing warier. "Calamity! Why do you call this abomination?!" There was no response from his Summoner. The moment the dark sphere had appeared, Gwen's mind delved into the darkness of the thing that spawned inside her barrier. Like Caliban, though the Void-being possessed no intelligible thought, she could feel its demands through the empathic link. _What do you want?_ She questioned the thing, using her worm as a template. What are you? _Hunger._ _Hunger._ _Hunger._ _Do you wish to be made flesh?_ _Serve me, and I shall feed you._ _Eat._ _Eat._ _EAT._ "GWEN!" came Walken's appeal from the fabric of reality. When she came to, she beheld a howling Golos half covered in the black-goo. He was snapping and tearing at the tendrils, but like an Exxon Mobile oil spill, the bubbling protoplasm was vigorously mating with his proud body. "CALAMITY!" Golos discharged a Wyvern-wide AoE. A sharp, stabbing pain pierced Gwen's swollen brain. "SHAAA!" Caliban writhed below her feet. _HUNGRY!_ A call echoed in the Astral space of her Mage Soul. A weakness ran up her leg and through her vertebrae as her vitality fed into the summoning circle, fuelling the existent void-energies ravaging the barrier. _Obey me._ Gwen focused her will once more. Obey, and I shall feed you. The inky-mass dropped. "MORE CRYSTALS!" Both Wen and Walken called out to Petra as she ran to the next node. Gwen gnashed her pearly teeth, sending back her clearest vision of Caliban growing fat after a fresh kill. She had ample evidence that the ball was a mass of hunger, a primordial appetite. If so, there was only one way to negotiate. With a glance and a gesture, she activated a Spellcube. Expertly manipulating the oppositional energy, she sent the entirety of Petra's Restoration into the Shoggoth. "Golos! How about now?" She had not forgotten about the Wyvern. "NEVER!" Golos howled, chomping at the dark sphere with furious futility as its tendrils once again molested its lightning-clad carapace, heedless of the suckers that burned and spluttered. Gwen growled. Golos was more obstinate than she thought. She didn't want to traumatise Ruxin's unruly brother, but the Wyvern had to be pounded into shape, and the Void-Beast was her hammer. Smoothing her hair, she quickly activated a second Spellcube. "Eat!" she commanded the maybe-Shoggoth to make her Wyvern yield. A flood of vitality escaped her torso, nourishing the bloating sphere of engorged flesh. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. "The barrier's failing!" Walken's voice came through. "I am killing it!" "NO!" she shouted back. "A little more!" "You're crazy!" "Listen to Gwen!" Wen shored up the Mandala with a series of quick incantations. "Keep the barrier going for as long as possible! We need this!" "The risk is too high!" Walken hissed. "God damn it, Gwen!" His student's response was to pop her last Spellcube. "A minute! Half a minute!" Abruptly, there was a sound of soft silk ripping in twain. Her vitality tanked, warning her of the creature's indiscriminate hunger. A gash appeared on the tenebrous sphere. A splash of grey goo fell over Golos' chromatic scales; then an enormous eye blinked open. An eyeball the size of a small building was now staring into the material world, taking in all its glory. Its six-meter pupil was black-on-black, surrounding a centre that may very well be a portal into the infinite realm of the Void, ringed by concentric circles of bruised purple. Around the iris, the sclera was ivory and slick, milky and writhing with unnamable things just below the surface. The world grew suddenly silent. Even the lull of the ocean seemed muted. "Shaa-Shaa-Shaa..." Thankfully, the sound came from Caliban, sweating goo from its body like a self-desiccating blood worm. The eye turned, its aberrant form beholding all that it surveyed. If the hunger it had earlier demonstrated was a stream, what it now channelled into Gwen's mind was a mighty, raging river swallowing all that it touched. She tried to move, to fight its will, but what flooded her head numbed all thought. The vitality from the third Spellcube disappeared in a wink as she fell to one knee, gasping for air. "You win." Golos' voice broke the silken silence. He politely knocked on the barrier. "Get me out of here." The final component of Planar Ally activated. The Mandala burst into brilliant flames as its remaining ingredients ignited, clinching the compromise between the Summoner and her creatures. Within her mind, Gwen could sense the power of its contract linking her to Golos' Astral Soul, and presumably, the one-eyed Shoggoth. At the same time, she knew that no amount of her Essence nor vitality would ever satisfy the Void-being. If and when she called upon it again, it would feed until she dismissed it. "PURGE!" Walken activated the contingency Glyph, setting into motion rapid injections of mana that would quickly disrupt the pocket-space within the Mandala, ensuring its collapse and the return of its summoned residents back to their native realms. "I'll call you," Gwen promised Golos as the Shoggoth began to fade, feeling the eye's tyrannical oppression disappear. Soon, nought but ankle-deep sludge and a dozen twitching tentacles remained. "Tell Ruxin to pass on an inventory of what you desire. No hard feelings, eh?" Golos waited for the magic-circle to burn out. When the last mote fizzled, he stared at her, and she stared back. "Wow," Gwen awkwardly remarked. "You're still here." "I am no mere Elemental." Golos' eyes grew suddenly cruel. He rose to his full height, bringing his clubbed tail to bear. "Prepare to suffer!" "Ahaha, oh shit…" Gwen gestured to Walken and Wen to back her up. Around her legs, Caliban readied itself to be its master's shield. "We made a deal, remember? Don't forget, you've got Ruxin's orders, and I've got your consent. You're my guy, right?" "A dragon shall not broker deals with puny mortals!" Golos' snubbed her. "Your feeble magic cannot bind me!" "Do you mean to renege?" Gwen readied a shield. Now was a good time to see if that diamond-barrier worked. "If death or dishonour is preferable, then I suppose—" CRACK! A line of lightning, thicker than Gwen's entire body, fell from the sky as though a pillar of light, striking Golos across the face, punching his head so hard that his snout dug into the bubbling sandstone-turned-glass. Gwen looked toward Walken. Walken shook his head. "Not me." Gwen looked up at the clear blue sky. Golos lifted its chin, then coughed up a mouthful of sand. "What was that?" Gwen asked. "A scion of the Yinglong cannot go back on their word…" Golos sullenly mumbled under its breath. "Brother sends his greetings." The disparity between the brothers was heaven and hell! Exhaling with relief, Gwen reminded herself to send the Demi-God dragon a suitable gift in the future. "If its all the same to you, Golos, I would like us to work together. Like when we fought the Naga. That was fun, right? I didn't leave you to die, and we both profited. Our working relationship doesn't need to be unpleasant. Here..." With great effort, she exercised what remained of Almudj's Essence onto her palm. "Shake on it?" Golos crouched in low. "You think that a tiny mote of Essence like that will..." An enormous pink appendage wrapped her hand. "Hmm..." Golos licked its chops contemplatively, its ice-blue eyes rolled to the back to the back of its skull. "It's sweet... HMMPH!" With a great bell-beat of wings, the Wyvern ascended. "YO! Are we cool?!" "Only if you satisfy me!" came the voice from the draconic-beast as it unfurled the impressive length of its full form, shaking off the gooey slop like a murderous, winged Clifford, splatting Gwen, Walken and Wen all over. Upon the hill, the gathered Mages watched as Wyvern menaced the girl before turning to the inhabitants of the island with voracious scrutiny. "Golos, NO. They're wearing pants, for God's sake." The girl stood between the Thunder Wyvern and the quivering Mermen. "Can't you eat one of Ryxi's goats? Huangshan's close, right?" To their shock, the monster turned, growled, then lifted into the air. "Call me sparingly! I am busy!" A second later, it was a mere speck in the distance. "That went well." Gwen carefully lowered herself to the floor before resting on her buttocks, not even caring that she was most unladylike. She felt drained, spiritually, physically and mentally. Golos had a strong will, and it was only the suppression of her Almudj's Essence against his imperfect draconic-soul that had sealed the deal. Additionally, who'd have thought she could pull a one-eyed mass of hunger from the Void? Innately she knew it was in no way comparable to Sobel's Black Sun, though its appetite was true to the Void's characteristics. "In hindsight." Walken approached, soaked from head to chest with void-goo and Wyvern-spittle. "I think that could have gone a lot worse…" "Petra! Get down here and give me a hand!" Not far, Wen selflessly leapt into the goo-sloshed Mandala, wading ankle-deep through gloop. "Stasis! Stasis! Stasis! OH! Stasis!" She happily packed every spare tentacle and tendril that Golos had severed from the Shoggoth. Walken exhaled with wonder. "… see that? Now that's the sort of mental fortitude that makes a Meister." Unanimously, the committee that oversaw Gwen's Planar Allies labelled her Void "Ally" a Class VI restricted manifestation. It meant that she could not summon the creature without permission from a Tower Arbitrator, and never in a tier 1 city. Until the Void Creature was thoroughly studied, it would remain classified, conjured only to further man's knowledge of Spellcraft. As for Golos, the Tower committee requested an interview before the spell could be deemed feasible for the competition, to which Gwen reassured them of the Wyvern's grudging obedience, then redirected their doubts toward Ruxin and Ayxin. Unfortunately, considering the bureaucracy involved, the likelihood of her having her Void Ally in time for the first match was close to nil. "Two steps forward, and one step back," Walken remarked with a tone of apology. "I am afraid it happens." "It's okay," Gwen denied her instructor's fault. "I don't mind." "These rulings are just formalities and conveniences." Walken's next advice came in the form of an evil whisper. "If necessity calls, forget the sanction. I've left Petra with five sets of Mandala ingredients. If someone is after your life, let the Black Sun or the Wyvern deal with them." "I still don't think that's the Black Sun." "How about an Evil-Eye?" Walken remarked, referring to the one-eyed monsters that roomed subterranean caverns. "Void-Eye - that fits the bill." How about Shoggoth? Gwen remarked privately. "Speaking of regulations, is everything going to be cool with those guys?" Gwen glanced at the Magisters from the Towers as they bathed Wen with attention. "Well, if they want to censure your craft." Walken's expression changed to one of schadenfreude. "Then complain to Gunther, that's what the fastest spell-slinger in the west is for, ain't it?" Night. Lei-bup gathered his tribe. He was feeling a little crazy, but that, in his humble opinion, was a good thing. He had been touched by divinity, and he knew it. When the Wyvern had wanted to eat them, it was the God summoned by the pale human sorceress who had cowed it. Lei-bup recalled the invocation vividly. _Yog-Sothoth!_ The key to the gate where the spheres conjoin. And _La-Shub-Niggurath!_ Master of the woods that wend! Existences that Lei-bup was sure were the salvation of his oppressed people. Though the humans had left, the evidence of their Mandala, their magic, remained on his island, along with their discarded bottles, wrappers, and bits of uneaten food. When he ordered his tribe to scour the area, they had even recovered a bit of still-writhing tentacle that had dug into the earth. Lei-bup incoherently gibbered as he wept salty tears of spiritual rapture. From this night forth, he and his fishy-kin shall worship nought but the One-Eyed God and its priestess of pale flesh! Four days later, Fudan received the details of their next match. "You'll be going to Cuzco," the Dean announced to the group after they assembled in his office. "Magister Walken and a contingent of examiners from Brussels will chaperone your journey. South America does not yet possess a Superstructural Inter-state Teleportation Circle, so it's going to be a long trip." "So rushed!" Gwen hesitated at the untimely news. "AND our opponents have home ground?" "Compared to us, who will be travelling non-stop for ten days." Richard frowned. "I presume, sir, that we will be taking the PLA Tower's S-ISTIC to Hawaii, then boarding a shipping freighter to Lima, then use their ISTC To reach Cusco?" "Indeed. Well done." The Dean was impressed by Prince's alumni as usual. "As it were, we shall be updating your Multi-Pass Adventuring Permits for the Americans. Remember, the American continents fall outside the control of the Mageocracy. I'll need you all to stay out of trouble while you're waiting on your ship." "Yessir!" the group answered. "Gwen?" The Dean singled out their sorceress. "Am I clear? No unnecessary trouble." Gwen blinked innocently as to suggest she would never amount to such atrocities. "None, whatsoever, sir!" The rest of Fudan's team chuckled. "Now go and pack!" "Yessir!" Outside the office, Gwen caught Richard by the arm. "Dick, what's Hawaii like?" "Verdant paradise, golden beaches, an active volcano, lots of Magma-aligned monsters, Mermen by the horde." "How about resorts? Any good beaches?" Her eyes sparkled. "God, I miss the beaches." "Gwen, what are you thinking? Beaches are annoying. There's too much sand, and it gets everywhere." Lulan paused to challenge a girl who grew up close to Cronulla, and who had spent her alter-teens hawking icy-pops at Bondi. "Surf! Sun! Skin! Sand!" Gwen blurted out, suddenly longing to dig her toes into the surf. How long had it been since she napped under the sun? "And a good tan!" Barring Richard, her companions took their pale-skinned companion's praise of the seaside with a pinch of salt. In Asia, fair and flawless skin was a highly desirable symbol of status. Who would actively venture into the sun so that they appeared like a peasant labourer? "And swimsuits." Gwen wrapped a hand around Petra's waist, making her cousin blush, then winked at the trio of boys in their competitive retinue. "Imagine it, seven girls and three guys..." "YES!" Anita punched the air. "Oh, yes!" Jiro's orbs lit up like twin stars. "Jiro." Bai patted the Fire Mage on the shoulder. "Your fire is sparking."

The United States of America. Though the match was set in Cuzco, it was the elephant in the room that Gwen wished to address. In this world where Russia was principally Black Zones, and China trafficked in dragons, could the US remain a global hegemon? To find answers, she decided to trawl the bookshops, hoping to pick up a Lonely Planet or a Frommer's. Her knowledge of the States, assuming the United States existed in the form she knew, was woefully insufficient. As a Frontier bumpkin, her education provided no information on the American continents, and Henry had never prioritised the region in his lessons. At Xinhua, the state-owned bookshop, she accosted a clerk about her enquiry. After becoming book-wrecked on an island of hypercritical propaganda, they arrived at the children's section. "Perhaps you could try Fudan's library?" The clerk hid a smirk. "I've never heard of a traveller's guide. For a thrilling read, I do have some Dungeoneering autobiographies if you're interested." In contrary to the clerk's oblivious advice, Gwen desired a lite account of American history, its customs and its people. She didn't need a four-hundred-page treaty on the "Post-War Impacts of US Intervention during the Sino Crisis, Volume II, The Journal of Asia-Pacific History, PRC Press, 1998" or "The Capitalist Incubi, by Lee Wang Suu." Instead, she picked up "The Illustrated History of America". "This will do, cheers." She smiled attractively. "May I have a browse?" "Absolutely." The clerk beamed. "Take your time." She took to a couch, then spread the book against her thighs. To her delight, it was relatively comprehensive. To her chagrin, the publisher was the National People's Press. After the title page, she found a map of North America, just as she recollected. At its northernmost edge lay the Canadian border; opposite, at the southernmost tip was Meso-Amerca. Outside the chart, floating like two dislocated islands, were Alaska and Hawaii. "The United States of America consist of the East and West Coasts. It is a nation of capitalists who built their homes on the backs of the proletariat." Stunned, she checked the back page of the hardcover. "Suitable for Ages 3 - 11." She continued. "The United States brought many things to the world: The Automobile. The Lumen Caster. The Ether Engine. The Mobile Message Device. Data Slates. It remains the global seat of entrepreneurship and free-market capitalism." The accompanying image was low-key 90's Reader's Digest. It held a collage of disembodied faces such as Jonathan Gilt, Elric Edison, Henrik Kaiser, Henry Ford and George Eastman. Each of the inventors hovered next to their inventions: the Ether Engine, the mana-relay, the freight-ship, the personal automobile, and the lumen-recorder. She turned the page. "The USA began as thirteen colonies of pilgrims who escaped England's persecution. They set up their new home in a continent called the New World, inhabited by the Native Americans." There was a picture of surprised Native Americans staring at a fleet of ships. Labels like the Cherokee, the Sioux, the Apache were attached to painted faces wearing feathered headdresses. "Though the pilgrims escaped the greed of their King, they continued the colonial greed of the Mageocracy. They chased away the Native People with their faith-magic, and took the fertile earth as their own." The accompanying image showed Pilgrims with bibles held high, calling upon spells of fire and light to hammer at the defenceless natives. "A great plague, brought by the Pilgrims, soon ravaged the Native population." "Wow." The gruesome vision of carrion was impressive; it was as if the state-sanctioned artist had been there. She turned the page. "As the colonies grew into cities, they wanted all the wealth of the New World for themselves, so they rebelled against England with the help of France." The next page was a fantastic double-page of total war, titled "They fought; many died". The image had English Red-coat soldiers fleeing from spellbook-wielding Americans chasing them into the ocean. In the distance, French frigates set English ships ablaze with Fireballs. "No longer subject to the Mageocracy's Laws, the Americans colonists enslaved the Native workers. Dissatisfied with one race, they enslaved the working people of Meso America. When the people perished, they travelled across the ocean to enslaved more of the proletariat." An image of sad-looking black and brown people crowded like sardines in ships, lead by a Caucasian captain in blue and red, spoke loudly of the plight of the Pan-African proletariat. Were the matter not so morbid, Gwen would have laughed out loud at the anachronism. "Then, a civil war broke out." There was no explanation for the war. The double-spread, however, showed religiously attired Confederate soldiers in dusters, carrying wands as tall as themselves, backed by spell-book wielding Mages. They fought against the navy Union army; only the Unionists had slaves fighting on their side, curiously without magical implements. "The Union united America." She saw a chiselled Abraham Lincoln with Renaissance proportions, raising a flag atop a hill of corpses. "The American President was assassinated by a prole, a non-magical dissident." The image, sickeningly, showed old Abe falling from the box of a theatre, while behind him, a white man held a wand in one hand. Below, women screamed, and other men pointed their wands upwards. There's a lot of magical wands, Gwen gulped. She had only seen this many wands in one place while in Singapore. "Then a long peace." The next page consisted of rebuilding, containing fair-skinned blonde women holding bountiful harvests of wheat and corn, while women of colour were depicted with bent-backs in cotton fields. The next few pages progressed rapidly. "The unending wars in Europe brought millions of people to America." "America sold itself as the land of invention and enterprise. The American Dream was the idea that anyone, even NoMs, could find happiness in the New World." "Instead, workers became exploited by America's great inventors. Oligarchs like Jonathan Gilt and Henry Ford used government regulations to build personal empires of continent-spanning wealth. A few men grew rich. A million men and women died." The colour palette, Gwen realised, was growing increasingly dark. "The proletariat wanted to unionise. The workers cried out for socialism." The next image had a red star in the sky, shedding light on the faces of workers whose profiles were filthy from mining mana crystals. "The peaceful revolution failed. The Oligarchs had become too powerful. The government represented only the interests of the wealthy, and the labourers had become too dumb and deaf to know their plight." Depressingly, the last page was of soaring cities in white and neon, below which were the limp bodies of workers toiling in the dark of the factories. "Who will speak for the silenced?" That was the final page, accompanied by an artistic silhouette of Mao's side profile. "Holy shit." Gwen breathed out. That was a heavy as all hell picture book. Who the hell published this crap for kids? "I brought you some tea." The clerk returned. "Would you like to purchase the book?" "Yes, I think I will." She sipped the lukewarm water. "Thank you." At the Handan Campus, Gwen looked about her fellow students. Fudan had plenty of Korean, Japanese and European expatriates, but she had never seen anyone from the American continents. Near the gate, after a quick flirt with a few reporters who wanted to know about their plans for South America, she Messaged the Dean. "Why?" Luo demanded, suddenly suspicious. "Need I remind you that Hawaii belongs to a sovereign nation? There'll be an uproar! A continental war!" After calming the Dean, she explained that she wanted the knowledge to avoid stepping on toes. "..." There was an uncomfortable silence. "Right. Talk to James. I'll let him know you're coming." A quarter of an hour later, she found James Ma at the Social Studies quadrangle. "Come in." The NoM professor's private study was quaint and quiet compared to the generous laboratories of Fudan's resident Magisters. "Sir." She bowed. Though she and Ma were now colleagues, she wanted to maintain a cordial student-professor relationship while at Fudan. "I would like to know about the Americas for my upcoming visit to the continent." "Ah yes, the Dean said as much." Ma pulled out a chair for his student. "You have my gratitude for looking after Alan. He has been very much traumatised by Magus de Botton's visit." "It was the least I could do." Gwen inclined her head, tucking her hair behind one ear. "As it were, I possess a few books on South American History, particularly on the rise of Tawantinsuyu, the Inca Empire." Ma pulled out several volumes from his bookshelf. "Do not misplace them." Stolen novel; please report. "Thank you, sir." She stowed the texts in her ring. "Just as well, since you're here, I'll answer any questions you might have. What do you want to know?" "Politics and history of America; what to expect." "North America, I hope, I know only as much about Cuzco as those books will tell you." "That would be lovely. Hawaii is our first stop." Ma retrieved a world-map from behind him, then opened the thick, note-bound volume until it reached North America. "As with all history, context is everything." Ma paused to collect his thoughts. "To begin at the beginning, you must be aware that before the Beast Tide, our globe was a quieter place. The Mermen Kingdoms posed no threat to our shipping lanes. Magical beings, who had always existed, were largely dormant. Conversely, Human Spellcraft existed in its infancy. Men without magic were the standard. Mages were rare individuals, even if they occupied critical social niches, forming the upper political strata." "Yes, I know." "Good. America was, of course, a colony of the Imperial Britannic Mageocracy - not to be confused with the Commonwealth Mageocracy of today. During this colonial golden age, there was a tumultuous event that happened in Europe. Can you guess?" "Oui! The French Revolution?" "Yes. Well done." Ma seemed surprised. "Indeed, there was a revolution against the rule of Mages. Because NoMs so grossly outnumbered magic-users in Europe, the disparity culminated in the fall of the French Monarchy, ending with the execution of the French King and his family by NoM partisans. In response to dissent across the European continent, King George the Third declared the Equal Rights Concession in 1799. The law gave the right to life, liberty, property and employment to all non-Mage citizens. In 1801, the law became common." Gwen nodded. She knew this, though not in so much detail. "Myopically, the new rights did not apply to the Empire's Frontier citizens. The thirteen colonies thus declared independence from the Mageocracy in 1813, aided by the opportunistic French. After that, many long-suffering Europeans saw America as an opportunity to begin life anew in the New World. The Mages who left travelled via French and English frigates. NoMs travelled on desperate coffin ships." "The next few decades saw an epoch of slavery, and after that, the Civil War. Internationally, however, until the late 1890s, the US remained dormant, quietly trading its surplus of food and magical materials. When the Spellcraft Revolution transpired between 1890 and 1910, the States tripled its production and trade capabilities. During this time, the USA exploded with entrepreneurship, lead by one Jonathan Gilt." "Who is Jonathan Gilt?" "An inventor, a philosopher, and a profiteer. Bit of an enigma, to be honest. He had no interest in government, thank Mao, though his invention, the Ether Engine, enabled a revolution in personal and public transportation, and he had many disciples. One of his protégés, Henry Ford, became the most influential Industrialist in the world. You could say that he even had a hand in the creation of Crystal Currency. Gilt was intensely opposed to any socialist intervention in the works of his fellow Industrialists. He famously stated that each man must live according to his means and that to provide for your fellow man is dishonest. He believed that humans were made unequal; therefore, the natural state of society was inequality. Curiously, he wasn't a warmonger. He believed that Man's purpose is to strive for rational progress. He extolled the virtue of the greatest profit for the greatest many; that the free market was democracy distilled." Jonathan Gilt, Gwen whistled, committing the name to memory. "Don't let the Party officials hear that." Ma laughed drily. "We're opposed to the Gilts and the Fords, at least officially. Now, to answer your question. In the 1920s, after the Great War against the Necromancers ended, America and its industries emerged the ultimate victor. You see, during the war, all the great names in Europe sent at least one branch family to the States to preserve the bloodline. In many cases, these scions never returned, having found success abroad while their siblings bled in the trenches. Like their predecessors, these new Mages broke free from the tradition thanks to the New World." "Through to the 1930s, the restoration of Europe was another boon for the USA, showering its twin-coasts with skilled immigrants it unconditionally absorbed into its fold. The entrepreneurs who built its cities grew enormously wealthy during this time, riding on cheap labour and widespread exploitation of the starry-eyed proletariat." "There was no progressive movement? No Great Depression? No Franklin D. Roosevelt?" "Was he an Industrialist?" Her professor paused to collect his thoughts. "Ah-" Gwen knew now where history had definitively diverged. How could there be a Great Depression without a stock market to crash? How could there be an economic crisis when currency grew in caves and on the plains? "I was confused. Please continue. What happened in the 1940s?" "The 1940s saw the rise of two ideologies across Europe and Asia. Fascist-Imperialism and Communism. Conversely, the USA extolled the virtues of unfettered capitalism. When the USA joined the global conflict as a peace-keeper, it profited greatly on the Western Front, once again receiving an enormous wave of desperate and talented migrants." "But it suffered against the Japanese in the Sino War. When the generals resorted to a costly war of attrition, the States infamously utilised the world's first Strategic-Class Spell of Mass-Destruction on Japanese soil, citing the preservation of human life and resource. After that, the USA secured its position as the world's foremost international power, at least until the Beast Tide." "While reigning as a global hegemon, the US continued to garner power, drunk on the profits of human conflict." Ma scoffed. "The Pan-Pacific battle over Hawaii. The Meso-American Concession. The Massacre at Panama Canal. The Columbian Insurgency. American Banana Co. Its support of Japan and South Korea. Territorial disputes with the Mageocracy. Interventions in the Middle East on behalf of the Israelis. The persistent destabilisation of South America from the 1920s until 1971. It had a finger in every pot of rice." "Finally, when the Tide occurred in 71, the USA suffered its first major set back." Gwen accounted for the timeline in her head while Ma traced a finger around the entirety of the US continental map. "After the Great Restoration, only the East and West Coast endured," Ma declared. "On the Pacific Coast, Seattle, San Francisco, Los Angeles, and San Diego remained firmly entrenched under human dominion. On the Atlantic Coast, Boston, New York, Philadelphia and Washington stemmed the Tide." Ma drew a line across the middle with his finger. "After the Reclamation, the damage remains. From Kootenai to Twin Falls - Orange Zone. From Reno to Black Rock - Black Zone. The entire Mississippi Delta - Black and Purple Zones. Of course, there exist Orange Zone enclaves like Oklahoma and New Orleans that thrived despite the uptick in Demi-humans and Magical Beasts. But, as with our fight against the Undead, much of Amerca's Frontiers remain generation-long struggles. The Mageocracy says that America may never be great again. The reasons are many. New Tenochtitlan is on the rise; the Native American Tribes are returning to their Spirit Lands; the Mageocracy is regaining its foothold. The rest of the world is no longer its Wild West." "Still." Ma shrugged. "The USA remains absurdly wealthy. It may lack the history of China and Europe, but its primary industries are unrivalled. Likewise, I am sorry to say that they have no equal in Magi-tech." "So, how wealthy are the States? Compared to say, China?" Ma gave her an expectant look. "If you believe the tales, they tell us that every American Mage has a block of land to call his own and that even NoMs can own a two-bedroom house and an automobile." "Ooo-" Gwen cooed. The American Dream, the flames may flicker, but it remains an immutable beacon. Even with dragons, the New World was a land of opportunities! After a four-day media blitz, the team boarded a bus from Fudan and made for the superstructure at the heart of Shanghai. The entrance, one of many, accessed an underground facility that processed the student's Multi-passes, after which an encircling tunnel led downwards. When finally the darkness cleared, the students found themselves travelling through a cavernous space lit-up to resemble the world outside. A Geofront! Gwen plastered her face against the windowpane. A city-under-a-city! She finally realised why the superstructure of the PLA Tower appeared so outlandish, like a distended, long-legged spider that brooded over a section of the city. As the surreal scene had established, the majority of its functional buildings remained buried underground. "See that?" Petra pointed to a pool of light at the base of a pylon-like structure. From the cavern above, it stabbed into the earth like an obsidian sword. "That's the ley-line under Shanghai." "Cool!" Gwen felt her understanding of Mage Towers renewed. Seeing was believing; though she had always known about ley-lines, Gwen had never expected to see one drawing mana from the earth in real-time. At the end of the winding road, their coach was halted by NoM soldiers carrying powered shock-wands, dressed in the olive fatigue of the PLA. A Diviner ran a diagnostic device across the students as they disembarked to proceed on foot into the Tower's atrium. From the front gate, the Tower appeared as an enormous stalactite connecting the ceiling and the central platform, making one wonder as to how the PLA Tower meant to translocate itself in an emergency. At the main entrance, a set of scissored barriers ten-meters in height and adorned at the centre by a glowing red star swallowed the visitors. Within, the most salient sight in the enormous lobby was a benevolent statue of Mao Zedong. The Great Leader had one hand rested just behind his back, while the other waved in front of his body. His face was life-like, gazing down at the students while generously wrapped in a double-breasted commander's duster. "We should bow." Walken's voice came through the communal Message earlier enabled by Mayuree. "There's a lot of guards watching us." The group collectively capitulated, though some more purposefully than others. Behind the statue was the service desk, a semi-circle of clerks was piled three-deep behind a marble counter hundreds of meters long. There, the students presented their Multi-pass, logged their biometric-mana signatures, then followed a militant looking officer toward yet another set of too-tall double doors. "Where are our proctors?" Gwen intoned as they passed the threshold. "Patience." Walken carried on ahead. "The team was originally in Abu Dhabi. They will route through New Delphi, Lhasa, Chendu, and finally through to Shanghai. Once Yangon begins operation, European access to Indochina should be easier." True to Walken's words, at the end of the stark concrete corridor was a group of Europeans looking distinctly out of place. "Eric!" the leader called out, his voice booming across the cubist ceiling. "Thank God you're here. I was beginning to wonder if they had detained us, hahaha…" A collective murmur of relief escaped from the examiners' lips. They were each powerful Magisters and Mages in their own right, but now they were stuck in the belly of the red beast. "You're a household name, are you?" Gwen was impressed yet again. "You jest," her instructor intoned modestly before leaving her side. Facing the newcomers, Walken opened his arms. "Auberon! My Baron of Shenfield! You're a sight for sore eyes!" The contestants watched as the two men fiercely embraced, with "Auberon" planting a Sopranos hug-and-pat around Walken's shoulders. "My God." Auberon pulled himself away. "Walken, when you disappeared, I feared for the worst. You know, I had imagined that our German friend had you gagged in a dungeon somewhere!" "Ha! I am afraid to disappoint you." Walken shook his head. "I am safe, thanks to her." "Ah." The Baron of Shenfield turned his studied gaze toward Gwen, who hastily curtsied. "The fabled liberator of Yangon? You gave von Schlabrendorff quite the scare, or so I've heard. Are you going to give me a run of the troubles as well, young lady? The Spaniards couldn't hold onto Cuzco for long, but maybe you..." "Nothing of the sort, sir," Gwen simpered. There was nothing wrong with ingratiating oneself with the source of one's CCs. Auberon laughed, then formally introduced himself as Baron Lucas of Shenfield. On the surface, their new Chief Proctor was the talkative type. With a head of pale blonde, he appeared younger than his professed age of five decades. Like a few of his peers, the Baron of Shenfield possessed the typical English ridge-line nose, paired with curly hair, fair complexion and grey-green eyes. Behind him, he introduced his fellow proctors, a multi-national team of examiners assigned by the various universities. "Magisters," the groups' round-robin greetings were disrupted by the PLA Magus who had escorted them, keeping a low conversation with Bai. "It's time." The groups' attention turned toward the dais. Upon the platform, Gwen spied the most complex Mandala she had ever seen. What had been inscribed into the baseplate of the superstructural Teleportation Circle stood at the apex of practical Spellcraft. Even a tiny corner of the elaborate setup was far beyond her ken, and when it fired up, the thrum of mana within the Mandala could be felt in their bones. "Wow," Petra mumbled, taking notes with her eyes. "Just wow." The proctors lead the way, stepping onto the dais before taking their place in the outer perimeter. As for the students, Walken invited them up one by one so that they stood at the circle's centre. "Less spatial turbulence in the middle," Walken explained. "None of you wants to paint the floor in Honolulu, I imagine." "I can't believe this is happening!" Eunae trembled as she held Anita's equally sweaty hand. "I am in a long-range teleportation circle. I am going to the other side of the world!" "I am all tingly…" Jiro shook with excitement. "Please be gentle, Teleportation Circle." "Other than Burma, I've never been outside of China," Rene confessed. "Can someone hold my hand..." Nervous chuckles answered the Magma Mage. Gwen offered to hold Rene's hand. Mayuree and Eunae soon joined her. "Injecting Mana," came a voice from above. "Coolants at maximum." "Activating the superstructural Mandala." "Divination Locked-on." "Destination in conference... Confirmed." "Initiating Transfer..." Below, the PLA Magus saluted. "Fudan. Make us proud." Bai snapped back a crisp salute. "We shall return victorious!" Blazing swirls of silvery-Conjuration enveloped the stage. Fudan was away.

Cuzco. The founders had named it Qusqu, from "quasqu wanka". In the tongue of the Amara who came before the Inca, it meant the rock of the owl. In Quechua, it stood for the navel of the world. After the Beast Tide, it stood fast as the centre of the Empire, Tawantinsuyu, made manifest on earth by the grace of Inti, the ever-burning sun, bringer of life. It was here, from the cyclopean fortress of Sacsahuamán that Inti, scion of the Yupanqui and the Capca lineage, received the benediction of his father and the paramount chieftains of each region. With his tight, muscular body painted a thin layer of gold, Inti looked every inch the namesake of a sun-blessed being. At only twenty, his mastery of both the Mageocracy's magic and the craft of his people were well-lauded by his instructors at Cuzco National University. Prominent with his ridge-line nose, deeply set almond eyes and a sensual mouth, Inti was told by the High Priestess that he resembled Manco Cápac, the splendid repeller of the Spanish and the saviour of the Empire. Inti didn't doubt it, considering the mana that burned in his blood, though he was much taller than his ancestor, standing as tall as the mountain-maize at harvest time. It was the Cloud Puma's milk, his mother had told him. When he was a babe, his father had received the benediction of the Sun God by wooing the legendary beast. "My Son, Inti." His father, Achiq, paraded him across the spacious circle of the throne once more. The throne room of Sacsahuamán wasn't like that of western monarchs. It was a circular plateau where the Sapa Inca stood shoulder to shoulder with his companions. The lords of the four Suyus each stood. "Inti, make us proud." Caquingora, chief of the Qulla, Magister and Magistrate of the south-east, gave his blessings by anointing Inti with a spot of gold. "Inti, may your warmth be eternal." Huaman of the western region, placed his hand on the young prince's chest in a similar manner. "Inti, show the world that we are strong once again." Suyuntu, Magistrate of the north-west Chimú, gave his approval in gold. "Inti, I wish for a team of grandchildren." Manco, Magistrate of the Antis tribes of Peruvian Amazonia, made his peers burst into heartfelt laughter as he dabbed at his son-in-law's torso. "Yes, not a year longer, I too wish for grandchildren." Inti's father slapped his son's back. "Tica has waited for you for too long! When I was your age, the Mama Cuna forbade me from leaving the temple until we had an heir!" "Please do not joke about that, esteemed father." Inti felt his golden skin burn with embarrassment as he slipped into his training tunic. He thought of Tica and acknowledged that there were few girls as beautiful as the daughter of Manco, nor as intelligent and magically-gifted. She would make a great Queen, easily better than him as the Sapa Inca. Still, he knew he was yet inexperienced, and the idea of being responsible for children of his own frightened Inti. What if he was to raise an ineffectual, lazy, or greedy king? What would happen to the four corners of the Empire? What of the threat from Amazonia? "Until Tica is with child, our daughters cannot become concubines," Huaman complained. "Inti, have some consideration for this old man. My youngest is already older than you! She will be an old maid!" Inti laughed drily, turning from the roaring of the older men. With great strides, he escaped from the Throne of the Sun. "He's a good boy." Suyuntu of the Chimú nodded with approval. "We will be a proper Sapa in the future." Achiq sighed. "Yes, but first comes the competition. Has the Committee approved of Amaru's proposal?" "They have," Manco answered. "But to send Inti and Tica into that place. You are a braver king than I, Scion of the Sun." "Ah, but Inti is the son of the Son of the Sun, hahaha." Achiq slapped his oiled thighs. "Like glittering gold, Inti will outshine all else!" Cuzco was the bellybutton of the empire, and at the heart of Cuzco was the Plaza of the Sun. The original plaza was a part of the exhaustive temple complex leading toward Coricancha, the Grand Temple of Inti, but then the Spanish had converted it into a Weapon's Plaza where the colonists could gather in the event of an attack. For two centuries, the plaza had been full of Spanish buildings, but the Spaniards did not know that in the Andes, the great serpent yawned every other decade. When inevitably an earthquake occurred, all the Spanish buildings collapsed, while the Inca's so-called "primitive" masonry remained. In the centuries since the Inca's return to the seat of Tawantinsuyu, the invader's buildings had been dismantled. What remained was only the square-shaped administrative district, which had been incorporated into the city's restored architecture. Halfway to the plaza, Inti stopped to greet a pedlar selling achira, a roasted sweet-root. Inti refused the pedlar's offer of a free snack and paid the man a thin stick of crystal as compensation. The pedlar kissed the prince's hand, then became instantly surrounded by citizens who wanted the same roots that the prince had bought. Inti may be dressed in his training attire, but his face was well known to the citizens living between the temple and its serpentine thoroughfare connecting Sacsahuamán with the city below. When he passed a troupe of young girls, elaborate in their floral attire, they bowed their shoulders and giggled at the unadorned clothing of the prince. Behind the girls was a string of long-lashed llamas in ceremonial guises being taken up to the fortress. The Apu, the mountain Spirits, were kind of late, and Illapa, the god of seasons, was unusually generous with the rain. A few of the girls wore their hair in new styles, Inti noticed, that and they wore the rubber and leather shoes popular in the northern continent. Inti would love a dozen pairs of these Nike and Adidas attires, but he was the prince of a country, and it would not do to demean his own country's craftsmen. All of Inti's clothing was hand-crafted by the Virgins of the Sun- girls elevated by the state religion. Further down, passing a small square, he saw a group of boys in jeans and embroidered tee-shirts, listening to music from a quasi-magical device called a recorder which replayed sound. It was a European invention, though he could see that this particularly colourful model was a Japanese variation. "Inti!" The boys stopped at once and bowed. "Don't mind me." Inti ruffled the hair of the eldest. "I am just passing through." "Inti, father managed to barter for books and lumen-recordings from America, through the Aztec Pocteca traders. Do you want to borrow some? I bet you haven't seen the new ones yet." "I'll drop by if I have time, Palta," Inti promised, he indicated to the recorder and the thump of jazzy bass coming from the sound-emitting glyphs. "What does your father, the Magistrate, think about the music of the rocks?" "Ah, he doesn't understand." Palta slicked back his hair with both hands. "Silas is the King of Cool! Baby!" "Do you like our King best or the American King?" "Can I like both?" Inti burst into mirthful laughter. "I suppose you can." He nodded to the bombastic beats coming from the device, so different to the court musician's lilting flutes. In the coming decades, the perils of keeping the Empire's culture balanced would be a task for his shoulders. For how long could their isolation keep his people innocent? Though Inti knew the tireless sun shone on the Andes his people, there were limits to what a nation of only twenty-million people could do against the ravenous hordes of Amazonia. Had the Spaniards not invaded and quashed their gods and temples, ravaged their population, perhaps their present condition wouldn't be so precarious, but alas, a dashed urn lost its milk forever. "Inti! There you are!" Down the hill, between rows of white-washed, mud-brick houses, the looming shape of an enormous young man approached. "Tupac!" "Sir Tupac." The boys bowed. "Inti!" The man now arrived was enormously muscled, with legs like tree trunks, shoulders like that of a bear's, and a tapered waist like a puma. "There's trouble in the market; some foreign Magistrate is harassing Tica." "Ha!" Inti snorted, not in the least worried. "We'd better hurry before she loses her temper." "Coya Pasca will have my head if she gets into trouble again." Tupac parted the crowd like an ice-breaker. "By the Moon, these bumpkins who come into the city should be properly educated before they are set loose." If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. "Ah." Inti patted his friend's back. "The Empire has yet to elevate all of its regions; we are as much to blame as they, no? Is it not our fault that they do not know the proper etiquette?" In the north-western corner of the Plaza lay the Hall of the Healers. Unlike the grand wing of the same name that occupied Coricancha, the Healer's Hall was next to the market square and was a modest structure of four storeys. The upper level was the priestess' lodgings, while the lower level was devoted to the ailments of the ordinary citizens. It was here that the candidates for the Aclla Cuna, the future Priestesses of the Sun Temple, plied their mystical craft. The majority of them were young women taken from the four corners of the empire, selected for magical talent, intelligence and beauty. At any given time, tens of thousands of them laboured in the many halls dotting the Empire's townships, providing mundane and magical care. "Girl, what say you?" A man sat one-legged on a llama-wooled stool, the other perpendicular displaced to show off his swagger. "A commoner's life is too poor for a gem like you." "Sir, I am dedicated to Inti," the girl replied demurely. "I am not for the likes of you." "Then you'll be a virgin forever." The man smacked his lips, causing his followers to laugh. "I am a District Official of Chinchasuyu, do you know what that means? It means I control a whole town! A hundred thousand labourers work under me. Come with me, and I will make you my concubine. I'll treat you no worse than my first wife, better if you bear me a child." A crowd had gathered by now, forming a semi-circle just outside the plaza area of the Healer's Hall. "Master Kayara." One of the man's guards was growing more nervous by the minute. "The Temple of Inti is visible from here." "Ah, Antay, why do you worry so?" The man called Kayara patted his knees. "This is a healer's hall. These girls are from common stock, don't you know? The daughters of the named Inca are all in the temple proper." "Sir Kayara—" "Antay, enough." Kayara raised a hand. "Tell me, girl, who is your father." "A retired soldier…" The girl lowered her eyes. She had a button nose which made her appear younger than her years, and her llama's lashes were long enough to give him heartache. Even attired in the rough smock of the virgin's tunic, he could sense her ripening body beneath, guess at her pliant limbs, wide hips and full breasts. "He has grown too old and fat to fight." "Hahaha…" Kayara laughed. "See? Antay, you worry for nothing." "Still, I wish to be left to my duty, esteemed Sir." "Girl." Kayara changed his tone, evidently growing impatient. "Is your father discharged?" "Discharged, sir?" "From the military." "I don't think so." The girl looked up, and her obsidian orbs were like two pools of darkness refracting the noon-light from the windows. "He's been wounded, many times though." "I see." Kayara clapped. "I can discharge your father if you come with me. I'll give him the title of a tiller, but he can retire in my estate, hmm? How's that?" The girl looked around her. The other virgins were silent. A few of them were smiling strangely, which Kayara took to mean their jealous approval. "Please allow me to decline." "Oh, no, no, no." Kayara stood over the girl, resisting the urge to place his hands on her waist. If he left here and now, he was sure some other noblemen would take the girl by tomorrow. She was a fantastic treat, a thing of divinity, a fertility goddess. That she had remained undiscovered until he passed by was the will of Inti himself. "You see- the hand that gives also takes. If you refuse me, I will have to report your father for desertion. Your family will receive punishment for dereliction of state duty. Your father will have to make up for his time with hard labour, no? Could his old body take it?" A foreboding silence fell over the temple. Outside, the crowd collectively parted, though Kayara was well-absorbed in his theatrics. "Do you not know of the Sapa's love for his people?" The girl challenged him. "Do you not know that Inti is fair?" "Haha." Kayara shook his head. "But the Sapa is in his fortress, and Inti hangs high and far. I am and here and now." "That's funny," a voice came from behind Kayara. "I was only six blocks away." The District Official turned his head. Something blotted out the sun. Or rather, it was a caramel giant whose sleeveless tunic strained against his frame. He wore a breastplate of tanned llama hide, paired with gold-studded wrist-cuffs and military-style boots. Quickly, Kayara glanced at the man's mantle, noting the checkered patterns there that informed of his Qulla origins. From the blue dye, he could see the man's unimpressive rank. "Warrior." Kayara kept his cool. "Is there a problem?" "You need to apologise and present yourself to the temple," the giant intoned loudly. "Inti is forgiving, but not THAT forgiving. Repent while you can." A murmur of agreement resounded from the crowd. "Is wanting to give a young woman a better life a crime now? Are you a Temple Arbitrator?" The question seemed to confuse the warrior. "Tica?" The giant scratched his head, addressing the object of Kayara's affections. "What should I do?" "Oh, so you know each other?" Kayara grew annoyed. "Is this what this is about? Antay! Get rid of him." Against Kayara's expectations, his usually infallible guard captain had transformed into a golden statue, one that profusely perspired. Kayara frowned. "Sir." A young man not nearly as impressive as the giant dipped his head. "Can we talk outside? You're in the Healer's Hall; the girls need to attend to the citizens. While you debate with Tica, there's a line waiting outside." "Who are you?" Kayara frowned. The young man was in a training uniform of white woven llama wool. It was good quality, but it was the sort one saw anywhere. In his eyes, this must be another young noble, at worst a high-ranking one. "No, we can talk here." Someone sniggered from the crowd, followed by a dozen snorts. Kayara felt the hair rise at the back of his head. He knew the citizens of Cuzco were haughty- but weren't they looking down on him too much? He was an administrator! To his surprise, the young man stretched out a hand to the girl and pulled her away. Before he could violently object, she fell into his arms, and the two dashed for the plaza. "After him!" Kayara was regretful that such a bounty would escape beneath his nose. Pushing his useless captain aside, he led his entourage outside, stepping into the sun. "HALT!" came the sound of the giant from behind him. A terrible pressure emitted from behind Kayara, there was a growl like that of the puma. In the square, the crowd parted like mist cleaved in twain by the sun. Kayara halted, not because of the beast behind him, but because of what now stood in front. The polite young man now stood with the sun above him, with the wide avenue toward the temple silhouetted against his body. Where the two-storey golden disc of Sun Gate refracted the light, Kayama saw for a moment, Inti himself. The mana of radiance poured from the young man's body, filling the plaza with warmth, dispelling the cold air of the mountain valley. The girl in his arms giggled mischievously, her eyes bright with worship. "You are—!" Kayama realised too late. The cleansing light filled his heart with clarity, and in its luminance, he cursed his weak desires. All he could do was turn toward the temple, kneel, then place his head against the brickwork floor. "Official Kayara Taruca, I will recommend you for two years of labour to temper your desires and learn the heart of the people. After that, you may return to your position, pending review from the Kuraka Bureaucratic Committee. For now, please report yourself to your Suyu's Kuraka." "I. Kayama Taruca. Obey the will of Inti." Kayama trembled before the sun. "I will dedicate myself to the Empire and return to the land to learn its ways. You are merciful and wise, my prince. Please forgive this fool. Antay! You will be my guard. Take me back to the province!" Without another word, Kayama removed the mantle from his shoulders, took the signet ring from his fingers, then unstrapped his official's wrist-band. He then turned toward the palace, knelt once more, then rose to his feet. Turning about-face, Kayara then began the long trek back to the northern province. His guards followed, not knowing what else to do. "Inti!" a voice cried out from the crowd. "Good work, Inti!" "Inti the wise!" "Prince Inti!" A plethora of raised caps and jubilant cries answered Inti as his giant companion rejoined the duo. "Your father, the Magistrate Antis, is a retired soldier?" Inti asked the girl in his arms. "He did retire from his position as the General, and he is growing bulbous like a yam. One wonders if he might run into the Pishtaco at this rate." "Don't let him hear that... why didn't you introduce yourself properly," Inti whispered his fiancée through the Message bangle, a handy invention, one he had fashioned into the style of a traditional Quipu bracelet. "The Coya Pasca told you this would happen if you worked with the commoners. The nobles love to recruit concubines from the temple." "Isn't that obvious?" Tica's smile was as brilliant as the noon-day sun. She kissed his hand as the people's cheers turned into sultry demands for royal grandchildren. "Everything I do, Inti. It's all for you." In Hawaii, the Honolulu Tower sat beside the port authority, an extension of the Oahu naval base. Its original name was the Inouye Tower, after its resident Tower Master. When Magister Inouye vacated due to health complications, the Tower's name was auctioned off to the highest bidder. Now, travellers floating past its concrete facade could not help but gaze at the enormous characters clinging to its sides in garish purple and orange, spelling out the letters "FDX". "Can we go outside?" Gwen caught the clerk processing their passports. Unknown to most of her peers, she was already wearing a white halter-top two-piece underneath her dress. "Ah…" The clerk began to sweat, feeling as though a man-eating Sphinx was proctoring his answer. "No… Ma'am." "WE CAN'T go to the beach?" Gwen pointed to the floor to ceiling window panes, beyond which was the ultramarine ocean. "Its right there! How far is Waikiki from here? Ten, twenty minutes? I could fly there in five." "Ma'am, your multi-pass isn't authorised to travel on U.S soil," the perspiring clerk explained. "You can't leave the Tower's transitory grounds." "Ridiculous!" Gwen protested. She could smell the brine-scented sea outside. She leaned in close so that her face was a few inches away from the man's face. "Surely there's somewhere close within the Tower's domain we can dip our feet?" "Er…" the clerk relented. "We have a rooftop pool in the VIP section, but—" "How do we get there?" "It's for VIPs…" "How does one become a VIP?" "You have to be an FDX premium member." "What is that?" "If you carry freight with us and spent over 20,000 HDMs, you'll receive a VIP membership for free. FDX provides the best global logistics for the transportation of maritime goods into and from America—" "Hold the infomercial," she stopped the young man. "I thought this was the Honolulu Tower." "It's the FDX Tower." A few of the female clerks giggled behind the man talking to Gwen. Jiro wiggled his brows at them, eliciting another bout of laughter. FDX? Gwen googled her memories. F for Federal—? Something clicked. "Federal Express?" "Yes, Ma'am, that's us." "FedEx owns a Mage Tower?" "We're just the sponsor, Ma'am. The state manages the military and the administrative wing. You're in the commercial wing. FDX is also an official sponsor of the IIUC…" The young man looked at the airhead sorceress with an expression of infinite kindness and patience. "Would you like to know more?" "No…" Gwen sighed. "You're sure we can't just fly by Waikiki for half a day?" "No." "Not even for ready crystals?" She made the universal sign for "Ka-chin!". "You have to apply for an upgraded transit-pass, it'll take forty-eight hours." "Bah!" She returned to the lounge, sat toward the sun, and faced the lulling sparkles reflecting from the ocean. Her mind, however, had drifted onto other matters. So, a corporation may "own" a Tower? America. She thought to herself. You big, bloody, beautiful ripper!

The bold font of the FDX logo shrunk in size as the freight-carrier FDX Carolina churned the bean-green Pacific a milky blue. Not content with leaving Waikiki without so much as a dip in the water, Gwen stood by the rails in her halter top, watching the golden beach retreat into the distance. "Kālua Pork! I'll be back!" Her crushing cry of defeat was accompanied by a spray of brine, not unlike a certain red-headed mermaid on the rocks. Not far, Petra and Lulan paused to wonder what the hell Kālua pork signified before continuing their practice on the rear deck. Picking from the team's options for locomotion, Petra had settled on Gwen's offensive Dimension Door and Lulan's Misty Step. By alternating between the two, she possessed ample options for hopping about the battlefield. The students were stuck on deck because the Carolina was a freight ship with limited space for passengers. The sixteen or so Magisters and Maguses, including Walken, had taken up the lion's share of the limited board. Fudan, therefore, had been given the rear castle and a generous cargo bay as living space for seven days, with a crew canteen and unisex bathrooms to share. After a day of fruitless lounging, the team decided to get creative. Richard and Bai took turns defending a fort of spare containers while Rene and Jiro worked on finesse. Petra meanwhile, siphoned Enuae's healing invocations for her cube collection while also helping Anita refine her element. In the make-shift cabin, Mayuree performed an elaborate Augury. "Weal and woe in equal measure, danger, but also reward." She shuffled the bones back into her ring. "I suppose that's fair?" In the morning, from the poop deck, Gwen watched from the rails, still thinking about the beach, the sand, the sun and the golden pork. Feeling cheated and yet determined to exercise her expectations, she materialised a deck chair from her ring. To Petra and Lulan's shock, she then set up an anchored umbrella, a wicker coffee table, and a jug of coconut juice. Gwen then patiently put down a beach towel before she casually proceeded to read Ma's volumes by the "seaside". The sun glare from her porcelain skin was like a Flashbang, almost running a blinded Lulan into the bull. Gwen grimaced. Ever since arriving in Shanghai, she had hardly had time to sun herself. Now, she had seven days to pick up some colour, and she was determined to do so. Positioned to attain an even tan, she opened Ma's volume. It was entitled "The Empire Returns: A Case Study of Tawantinsuyu." The collected journal was a combination of three history papers, a political dissertation, and a generous appendix, edited by Magister Joan M. Milford. In the first entry, "An Oral History of the Spanish Usurpation", the author annotated that Spain penetrated South America around 1532. From Lima, they met great success by striking directly at Cuzco, capturing the Sapa Inca of the time, Atahualpa. In the power vacuum, the Inca's previously conquered provinces and allies reverted to their original tribal allegiances, preventing the Empire from repelling the Spanish. The tragedy was further compounded by the mass slaughter of temple maidens and the Inca's reliance on message-runners who became vectors for smallpox. In 1534, the conquistadors beheaded the Sapa to show that the Sun King was a mortal man. To make ingots, they melted down the golden wards and idols that protected the city. Consequently, through ruin and rapine, the Castillian Crown cemented their rule from Lima to Cuzco for almost two centuries. The second paper was centred on the emergence of an immensely powerful Radiant Mage by the name of Manco Cápac, the founder of Neo Tawantinsuyu. In "The Return of the Sapa" the article detailed how the long-oppressed indigenous people of the Andes turned against their Spanish masters, throwing down churches and revolting in the boroughs. When the conquistadors responded with forced conscription, the natives chose to flee into the mountains rather than serve as fodder for the Spaniard's defence. The "Peruvian Civil War" then quickly escalated until the Spanish conquistador-General, Sebastián Pizãrro, confronted the self-proclaimed Sapa Inca in the ruins of the once golden temple. If Gwen were to believe in the legend, Pizarro was first crucified, then made into a human candle. In the Plaza de Armas, he blazed from sunrise to sundown, halfway dying until the sooty end. In the appendix, the paper noted that recent anthropology carried out on the Cult of Inti revealed traces of 17th-century spellcraft utilised by the Vatican. Indeed, it was far more reasonable that Cápac had learned how to tap into faith-based magic, as opposed to inventing his own. Though the Mage remained a mystery, it was speculated that he might have been a convert selected for Inquisitorial duty before awakening to his alter-ego. "Aaah-" Gwen yawned, then turned her body like a side of fish, blinding Petra. The death of Pizarro in 1718 was the first in a series of disasters that struck the Spanish colonies. With the Cult of Inti restored, it was no longer possible to sustain minority rule. It took only a decade for the Christian missions to fall into ruin and the colonists' government to fall into disarray. Haplessly, the Spanish were pushed back into the ocean. Archaeologically, half the fleeing fleet was set aflame, becoming the subject of many a treasure hunt off Lima's coast. Of course, the Spanish did wish to return, but by then the emerging Mageocracy had exhausted the Castillian Crown's economic and political capital. Conversely, in the Andes, Manco Cápac set about reestablishing the old kingdom and bringing allies into the fold. He rescued slaves from surviving outposts, punished local warlords, and reconstructed Cuzco, all in five decades. Most importantly, he cemented the worship of Inti as the state religion, using the power brought by the faith of the people to keep the monsters in the Amazon at bay. By 1782, the new Sapa Inca had established an egalitarian dominion divorced from the Western notion of Monarchy. European Anthropologists invited into the Empire's domain recorded a chimeric form of theocratic-socialism. At the head of the state was the Sapa Inca, the monarch, whose family ruled by virtue. The Sapa was supplemented by four leaders holding equal political sway, each governing a corner of Tawantinsuyu, the corners of the "world". Under each leader's Suyu was a system of administrative officials called the Kuraka, learned men selected by merit. Each tier of the Kuraka oversaw a district, diminishing in size from city to county, to community. Overall, the stratum of society began with the Sapa, then the royal household, the lord's houses, the bureaucrats of the Kuraka, then equally, the commoner-classes of the labourer, farmer, craftsman and warrior. According to service and merit, each caste furthermore possessed internal ranks. What interested Gwen most of all was the Inca's disinterest in economics. As a group traumatised by Spain's boundless greed during their conquest, the new Empire heavily emphasised on agrarian self-sustainability. In place of currency, Coca, crystals and maize served as means of exchange for other tangible goods, supplemented by an abstract system of bartered labour. Precious metals and luxury goods held only abstract value. According to the third dissertation, in place of taxes, the Inca revived a system called Mita, meaning 'taking turns'. In a western calendar year, a citizen was expected to provide one hundred days of labour. For the citizens, most of whom had spent two centuries being worked to death in gold mines, they embraced the new system with grace. The Mita system thus engendered enormous civil works on a scale the conquistadors could only dream of. In unambitious prosperity, the Incas retreated into the mountains for another hundred years. When in 1888 the British arrived at Lima, the seventh Sapa Inca, Huayna Cápac, whole-heartedly welcomed the Mageocracy's scholars into his city of gold. He embraced the spellcraft revolution, going so far as to build for the scholars a university in the heart of Cuzco. Fortunately for the Incans, before the Mageocracy could bring its imperialist engine to bear, Necromancy erupted from Eastern Europe like a burst pustule. Cuzco lost all contact with London while the Undead hordes ravaged Europe. By the time the Commonwealth Mageocracy stumbled back into Lima in the mid-1920s, the Inca had already incorporated the Imperial Schools of Magic into their education system. As the 40s rolled around, Cuzco was once again ready to join the globe; only they had one problem. The Europeans disappeared again! This time, the Mageocracy became embroiled in the Pan-European conflict. The Inca were left shaking their heads. Just how war-like were these Europeans? When in the 1950s Cuzco welcomed their American neighbours into the fold, it came with a dire warning from their Aztec Theocracy neighbours. "These are wolves in sheep's clothing," their brothers in Meso America told them. Do not trust the men whose eyes glitter at the sight of gold, and whose prophets came bearing promises of profit. The Sapa Inca took caution but was full of curiosity for the world beyond. The Americans were careful as well, tentatively maintaining neutrality as they warred with the Aztecan Theocracy. Stolen novel; please report. Then, a dragon happened. This time, the Inca did not escape unscathed. Like the Mermen of the sea, the denizens of Amazonia had awoken. Amazonia! The very name invoked a vision of bronze-skinned, supermodel women wielding bows, shields and swords, lead by "Diana". She turned to the accompanying volume of South American Bestiary. She found trolls. "The Amazonian Troll is a subspecies of sapient elementals. Due to Amazon's flora, this subspecies ranges from one to three meters. An apex predator, trolls are naturally predisposed to violence. These tusked individuals possess a vaguely humanoid profile while occupying a corporeal form of fungi-flesh, capable of rapid regeneration. All trolls are known to imbibe human tissue, which in Trollic society is considered a delicacy." Furthermore, the Bestiary noted, certain Trolls possessed magic derived from non-human shamanism. Though their society was primitive compared to the Inca, the race as a whole was enormously overwhelming in the martial sense. An adult troll warrior could readily match a low-tier CQB Transmutater, while Troll Shamans were no worse than mid-tier Elementalists. An average human pitted against a troll was akin to a guinea pig pitted against a cat. "Amazonian trolls are ruled by a matriarch, with many females serving as shamans. The principle female, a brood-matron, can spawn up to a hundred individuals a year." Ouch, Gwen squirmed. A hundred? Viva la Regeneration. "Local legend has it that male Trolls when in heat will copulate with humans. Though the victim usually perishes, females who survive the term will spawn a Hag. Should the victim be magically inclined, a Black Hag is born." "What the fuck?" Gwen mouthed, shivering all over. Black Hags? Trollic sorcerers wielding hexes? She had read about them in the European Beastiary. According to those, Hags were intelligent-variants who had developed a knack for magic. They also cook children. "Researcher's note: there is no credibility to the assertion that Hags are born from human females. It is safe to assume this is an old wive's tale to prevent young women from entering the jungle." Thank god, Gwen breathed out. Half-trolls were bullshit for sure. How would the physiology work? Trolls are elementals. They're moving rocks, or fungi, or whatever. Prior to the Beast Tide, Amazonia was a region so vast as to have never been mapped by human endeavours. During the Tide, Troll tribes emerged in force. After eating the Eastern garrison, they made a buffet out of the sheltered townships in the Antis region. In the end, it was only after Sayri Inca Cápac sundered the eastern cliffs, collapsing a portion of the basin and sacrificing a dozen townships that the horde halted. Unfortunately, in the retaliation that followed, Sayri lost his life to a virulent, incurable curse. When finally the Tide ceased, a slow reclamation revived the tribal home of the Antis. The new Sapa, Achiq, rebuilt the lost town and highways, eventually returning the region to a semblance of its past glory. The last page noted the revision date as 1985. Gwen replaced the book in her ring, then lied back as to digest the information. By now, she could feel the tan baking nicely. "Cousin." Richard came upon her sunbathing on the deck. Warily, he regarded the plump spectacle with a critical eye. "You like lobsters?" "Why?" She perked up. "Are we having lobsters for dinner? I could eat." "No, but…" Richard pointed to her red and tingling protrusions. "You look like you're about to Polymorph into one." "Restoration!" Eunae rubbed ointment onto her vice-captain while waiting for the spell to run its course. Luyi helped by spreading the salve with its tongue. "I don't get it," their vice-captain groaned underneath her healer's appendages. For someone who had spent her twenties in enviable bronze, she was no stranger to tanning. "I took every precaution." "What possible precaution can a half-vampire take against the sun?" Richard commented as Lea cooled his cousin's irradiated dermis. "There's wanting to look like hot stuff, and then there's medium-rare." Gwen groaned. "Very funny. Is the ozone here depleted?" "The what?" Richard pulled up his sleeves, showing a healthy tan. He also pointed to Lulan, who now appeared at least a shade darker after two days on the equatorial belt. Even Petra, who was a lab room beauty, had taken on a tinge of colour that played wonderfully against her vivid eyes. "My beach!" Gwen bawled at the sight of her bronzing buddies. "Do I have to go in a burkini?" Richard snorted at her Gwenism. "Ooo, that smarts!" She drew in a breath of humid air as her skin began to moult. Beneath the shedding cells, the new surface emerged paled and translucent. Gwen cringed as Eunae picked at her peeling skin with sadistic pleasure. "So, anything we should know?" Richard changed the topic to her books. "We'll talk over dinner." Gwen regarded her healer apologetically before turning to her other companions. "Maybe then, Eric can advise the bloody team he's leading instead of dining with his fellow snobs…" According to scripture, the world had three layers. Amaru was the serpent, Apu of the "Ukhu Pacha", the land below the land. Puma was the Apu of the "Kay Pacha", the mountains upon which the Inca resided. Cuntur was the Apu of the "Hanan Pacha" in the sky, filled with magnificent condors. To attain enlightenment, the citizens of Tawantinsuyu must strive toward the seven virtues- Courage, Restraint, Charity, Joy, Truthfulness, Pride, and Justice. Likewise, they must renounce the ill-humours of Avarice, Sloth, Vengefulness, Carnality and Jealousy. Each of the virtue and vices was indoctrined from childhood, first through limericks, then fables, then finally, chronicle of the conquistadors' boundless cruelty. According to the Mamaconas of the Temple, should a citizen exercise more virtue than vice, then all would be well. Those who were good went to Hanan Pachu when they died, while sinners fell into Ukhu Pacha to be punished by the demons, monsters kept at bay by the great serpent. "Amaru" was also the given name of Amaru Paullu-Yupanqui, cousin to the Sapa Inca, uncle twice-removed to the young Inti, and brother to Manco, the overseer of the Suyu of Antis. Amaru was aware that to outsiders, the state religion was called the Cult of Inti, and that the Cult had plagiarised Christian motifs where the original was lost. Amaru also knew that the Apu was in reality, Magical Beasts. Some were mindless predators, like the Titan Boas of the low-land, slinking up the cliffs in summer to eat the llama and the occasional misbehaving child. Others, like the Phuyupuma, the Cloud Puma, were wise and intelligent, but not a god. Amaru had possessed many titles of renown in his forty-five years of service. Priest Amaru. Adjudicator Amaru. Administrator Amaru. Professor Amaru. Chief of the Kuraka, Amaru. Magus, then Magister Amaru. Amaru, however, saw his life differently. He was Amaru the fool. Amaru the gullible. Amaru the miserable. For this, he blamed the Sapa Inca. In the beginning, growing up in the cloud forests of the Antis; he, Manco and Uchu were instrumental in the Sapa's rise to power. Of Amaru's three companions, Achiq was a friend; Manco his brother; and Uchu was his everything. Amaru and Uchu had been inseparable since they were apprentices. She had always favoured him more than Manco. That came as no surprise; whether in politics or magic, he had always outshone his good-natured brother. After the Tide, Uchu's father chose Manco as a successor. This, Amaru did not care. But when Manco became the leader of his people, he picked Uchu for his wife. To Amaru's chagrin, before he could protest, the newly crowned Achiq gave his blessing to Manco, carving the union in stone. Heartbroken, Amaru begged Uchu to protest. Alas, Uchu could not refute the will of a god. A GOD! Amaru felt sick. No, Achiq was just a man. In Amaru's eyes, the Sapa was no Allah or Christ. He was an honest, kind-natured herder, the sort who could be lead by the lip like a llama. Jaded and full of hidden venom, Amaru asked for a leave of absence from Cuzco to travel the Andes and beyond. When he returned, Uchu was gone. "She died defending her child," his Sapa had said. "There was a skirmish, and they were caught by surprise." It was a story as common as maize, but Amaru felt on the verge of murderous madness. "Uncle Amaru." Before the darkness could descend, a little girl tugged at his tunic. "Mama said I should look to you." "Tica," Manco introduced his daughter. Her name meant the beautiful one. Caught within the twin pools of Tica's grieving eyes, Amaru rediscovered his reason for being. He became Tica's teacher, keeping nothing from her: spellcraft, politics, arts, literature, history, the mythologies; he gave his all. Under his care, her talent blossomed. Amaru had no doubt she would shine brighter than the sun. Then, on her sixteenth summer, Achiq bequeathed the girl to Inti. The city rejoiced. All of Antis rejoiced. Tawantinsuyu rejoiced. But for Amaru, when the blessing left Achiq's lips, something revolted. A flower he had so tenderly raised, plucked, just like that? A sapling he had watered and weeded and kept sheltered from sleet and snow and now bearing fruit, was to be plundered by a meritless prince? Amaru cautioned himself. Did he desire Tica? He quashed the thought. What he felt for the girl wasn't lust, but love. His rage came not from envy, but injustice. Had he not made a promise to himself that none may take the daughter of his beloved Uchu? He had groomed Tica for the role of the Coya Pasca, the High Priestess, the most powerful woman in the Empire, unbeholden even to the Sapa Inca. If he was to lose her now, why had Amaru remained alive? He could have joined Uchu in the underworld two decades ago. "Lord Amaru?" came a gruff voice beside him. Amaru's pale-yellow irises re-focused. Whenever he recalled that his jewel was wandering the city with her princeling, his mind wandered. "Pray, continue." Amaru waved a hand to his companion. "I am listening." Unlike the androgynous Amaru, his conversation partner was a picture of masculinity. Square-jawed, hawk-eyed and with a nose like a condor's beak, the man possessed three times the bulk of the light-framed Amaru. The two men were meeting in Cuzco's Tower, a contrivance Amaru had necessarily introduced as a countermeasure against Amazonia. From the exterior, the Cuzco Tower was a modest administrative building crafted from reinforced glass and concrete. Conversely, its interior was deceptively large and furnished in the aesthetic of the colonists. "Very well. The remuneration is 24,000 HDMs, assuming our agents can recover the Sun and Moon idols." The man tapped on the data slate. "Sans the idols, the total is 57,000 HDMs." "Acceptable." "I shall collect the collateral now." The mercenary grinned like a wolf, splitting his cracked lips from ear to ear. "Rest assured, our contractors are the definition of discretion." "I trust you because I doubt you have the gall to double-cross me." Amaru tapped on his Message device. "Like you, I have friends in high places. Both in the Factions, and elsewhere..." A door opened, followed by a laden trolley pushed by a girl-servant. The attendant bowed, then un-locked a compartment to reveal two-dozen golden statues, each an amalgamation of the snake, the condor and the puma. "Your collector seems to know us well," Amaru remarked, running a finger over the two-dozen or so statues of the sacred trinity. "Very few of these pre-colonial icons have survived." "May I?" the middle-aged Magus reached for the avatars. Amaru watched as the man ran a score of diagnostic magics on his tablet device tied to a monocle. In regards to Magitech, he sorely envied the Americans. If Tawantinsuyu could possess the same tier of programmable spell-components, the nation's bureaucratic affairs could reach new heights of efficiency. "Excellent." The Mercenary captain replaced the statue. "It's a pleasure doing business with you, Magister Yupanqui." "I await your success." Amaru smiled at the grinning captain. "We will not meet again." "No." The wolfish man moved his hand over the statues, stowing the lot with a glance. "We won't."

Stepping from the FDX Carolina after seven days of swaying at sea, the ground beneath the student's feet turned as they ambled onto the freight dock. From the deck, they were soon joined by the proctors. Exchanging a few polite words, the group then crossed customs before travelling coach into Lima's cultural centre. Unlike the Cuzco of Gwen's academic volumes, remnants of Castillian legacy remained in the coastal city. When she audibly questioned why so much of the trade-city retained its colonial influence, it was a voice from the front who answered the inquisitive vice-captain. "Lima was our last domain," their driver struck up a conversation. "Domain?" "Yeah, of us Spaniards." She implored the driver to continue. "... and because we have Spanish blood, the Incas don't think very highly of us," their chauffeur snorted. "In Cuzco; those snobs wouldn't give us the time of day." Their assigned guide, visibly more Spanish than native, grumbled bitterly. _Ah,_ Gwen nodded at their driver's disdain. Trouble in paradise, that was more like it. Her anthropological records were far too kind in regards to the Inca's pristine cultural roots. As always, academia was a far cry from the vox populi. "The real Inca; and I mean those born in Cuzco under the auspice of Inti…" their driver continued. "…they think that folks from Lima only go to Cuzco to steal and grovel. Sometimes I wonder if things could be better if we had remained an independent city, or if we never allowed the crown to be chased out..." From behind the driver's seat, Gwen could see that much of Lima resembled Barcelona, with broad, tree-strewn avenues in stone. True to the driver's sentiments, its boulevards retained a Catalan-Gothic flavour. "Thankfully, we're mostly left alone down here at the coast." The driver said. "The sun shines from Cuzco, but Lima is in the shade, eh? All that gold they've got up there, and mountains of Crystals! All they do is pile it up in that Temple of theirs and praise the sun. But we're citizens of the Empire too, aren't we? Lima needs new roads, new ports, new schools! We're the artery that connects Cuzco to the outside world!" Perhaps it was because the girl had shaken his hand and asked for his name, or maybe it was exciting to have a Mage eating his words- the man's disclosure came on like a torrent. So, strife does exist in the Empire, Gwen deduced. She could see it too. It was only when their bus entered the central business district that the attires of the citizenry began to take on a distinct, local air. One by one, workwear turned into colourful caps; shawls stitched with chequered patters, long full body tunics, and leather sandals. "Why do some people have similar mantles?" "That's easy." The driver said as he pulled into the hotel's bay. "The squares on the mantle indicate their position and rank in their Suyu. Gold-Red-Blue-Green-Teal-Earth-Grey. The closer to red, the higher up they are. If you see someone with a gold mantle, they're a part of the royals. Grey means they are criminals." He pointed to a square on his uniform. "Me? I am a Teal. A skilled labourer." "Right, gotcha." Gwen thanked their accommodating NoM driver before producing an HDM. "Enrico, Can I gift you with this?" "I won't say no, Miss Gwen." The man gulped. "Inti's blessing!" Behind Gwen, Auberon, the Baron of Shenfield, turned to his old classmate with an enquiry. "She does that a lot?" "All the time," Walken said. "Queer, hmm? Maybe it's her Frontier upbringing. She's got a knack for dealing with NoMs." "You think an NoM would resist an Omni-mage?" "Do you think you can get your NoMs to speak to you candidly?" "Hee..." Auberon Lucas watched Walken's prize stretch her pliant figure in a most unladylike manner. More and more, his alumnus' protégé was tickling his interest. "Right!" in the lobby of the impressive colonial hotel, Fudan's instructor addressed his team. "We're up at 0400 sharp tomorrow for breakfast and final checks. At 0500, we take the ISTC to Cuzco. After that, we have been invited to attend the sunrise. There, you will meet with your opponents from Cuzco National University. Remember, Inti Yupanqui-Cápac is both heir and the future head of the Cult, handle with care." "Yessir!" the team replied. "Remember that as with the PLA Tower, Cuzco is independent. Not all of your Contingency Rings may function. I will check with Tower Master Yupanqui before we proceed with the quest. When you duel, shield-break only." "Yessir!" "Petra?" "I am stocked up, sir." "Gwen?" "Nothing but Lightning!" "Good." Walken turned to face the lobby. "This may be the last two days you'll remain in civilisation for the foreseeable future. Treasure it!" True to Walken's proposed itinerary, the team arrived at the ISTC at the crack of dawn. An hour later, Fudan's team was treading on the sacred soil of Cuzco; the navel of the world, the centre of the Incan Empire. As with Burma, an entourage awaited the students. This time, their hosts consisted of a dozen smiling men in conical flapper-hats, colourful tunics and scarlet shoulder-shawls, bowing their heads. After handshakes and greetings, the congregation made way for a trio of women, who introduced themselves as the Aclla Cuna. "Sacred women," Gwen translated for the others, marvelling at the linguistic prowess of her new Ioun Stone. "Virgins of the Sun." "Please follow us to the Temple," one of the girls implored amiably. Unlike the ceremoniously adorned men, the girls wore white tunics of fine linen, a sunburst-patterned shawl and llama-skin shoes. Gwen enviously scrutinised their perfect, caramel skin. "Cute…" Jiro followed without complaint. The others formed a procession line. Unlike the enthralled Jiro, his companions arranged themselves in order of height so that Eunae and Lulan wouldn't have their first sight of Cuzco impeded. Outside Cuzco's Tower, the still-dark city expanded from horizon to horizon, a tide of chalk-washed buildings with terracotta roofs. Unlike the "blocks" favoured by the developed nations, the city offered a unique take on urbanism, forming fissured avenues encircling administrative and religious centres. To the city's north, the mighty fortress of Sacsahuamán cast its golden glow; its walls etched with lustrous wards and arcane symbols. From the hilly vantage, the puma-shaped city pulsed with the royal fortress at its head, and Coricancha at its heart. The team wondered at the breath-taking sight of seeing a foreign city whose ley-lines were imprinted in golden circles glowering with thrumming mana. Fed by capillaries of magic, Cuzco appeared as though it were alive. Their destination, Coricancha, sat atop another hill, at the end of an elongated plaza shaped like a "T". "And I thought our city used a lot of gold…" Mayuree inhaled Cuzco's rarified air. As a precaution, the students had imbibed potions for altitude sickness. Nonetheless, lightheadedness and mild nausea assailed those whose whole lives had been spent at sea-level. Gwen meanwhile, struck up a conversation with the priestesses. First praising their elegance, their clothes, then steering the conversation toward the city itself, playing the ignorant yokel. In no time at all, the girls were giggling as though old friends. "Where are the slums?" Gwen remarked. Even in the dim light, the urban silhouette was incredibly consistent. In Shanghai, she explained, it was self-evident where the Mage's city ceased, and the NoM's districts began. "Cuzco doesn't discriminate," the priestess candidate, Lira, proudly proclaimed. "We don't have areas for the poor." "Oh? How so?" "All of the city's citizens are cared for by the Sapa," the Aclla Cuna replied with reverence. "So long as they or their families contribute, they won't starve, and they will always have a bed and a roof over their heads." "And if they don't contribute?" Gwen arched a brow. Was modern-day Cuzco a socialist-theocracy like Bhutan? Or was it a cult of personality in the style of Dear Leader? "Why would they not?" The girl furrowed her brows. "The city belongs to all of us. Inti shines on all equally, why should they not reciprocate? Who would wish to live in the darkness?" The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Gwen caught Richard smiling and showed her cousin the white of her eyes. "You're right." She grinned back amicably. "What a wonderful city. Bless Inti!" "Bless Inti!" the girl chirped. "Do you mind if I ask some more questions?" "Ask me anything!" The girls' eyes glinted. "I am the top-ranking student at the temple! What would you like to know?" "How about…" Gwen made sure her friends were listening. "How about some valorous tales of your darling prince?" 0610. Sunrise. Hymns praising the risen sun rose to a crescendo, filling the golden air with the music of the spheres. "How ecclesiastical," Richard relayed through a silent Message. "I know they're using mostly wind instruments, but there's a choir and everything. I am getting flashbacks of Sunday assembly at Prince's." "Must be a post-colonial thing," Gwen returned as she looked about the temple. Indeed, as Richard had stated, they may as well be in an Incan variation of the Barcelona Cathedral. Above, where the sun had struck the central structure's arched dome, an incredible array of amber quartz formed an art-deco sun, bathing the faithful in awe. The high priest, dressed in the garb of Inti with three condor feathers in a golden headband, a metallic shawl and a waist-skirt etched with saffron threads, lead the congregation in prayer. When the music ebbed, an incense-smeared llama dressed in gold and scarlet threads made its way to the centre of the dais. _Oh no,_ Gwen winced. "I had expected a nubile virgin," Richard reminded her of Cuzco's past. That a llama was now a substitute spoke of the Cult's modernity. "Maybe it's a maiden llama?" Without complaint, the animal knelt. "Inti! Teach us!" The priest rose both hands toward the heavens. "Take this offering from your people!" The congregation began to chant. A disrobed young man joined the central dais. He was naked from the waist up and rouged in gold, reminding Gwen of a Grecian statue. As his footfalls filled the temple's vacant spaces with thudding echoes, she thought of Gunther. So that's "Dear Prince", Gwen studied the lone figure as he approached the llama with a gleaming, golden blade. In one stroke, the Radiant Mage sunk the dagger into the creature's heart. The llama knelt, then the high priest collected the heart-blood in a jewelled goblet. _Oh no._ Gwen realised where this was going. "We invite our guests to partake in the gift of Inti," the priest declared. Slick with gore from his square chest to chiselled abdominals, Inti raised the cup, then approached Fudan's assembly. From the left side of the aisle, the Cuzco team rose to their feet. "I, Bai Tei, accept your generosity." Bai stepped forward, bowed to Inti, then again toward the Sapa Inca seated under the glimmering mural. Inti took a sip. Gwen felt her skin crawl. "The flesh of my God, from me to you, brother under the sun," Inti intoned. Tei received the goblet, then drank. "Good!" Inti slapped Tei on the shoulder. He then passed the goblet down the line so that it was in the hand of his vice-captain, a girl with deep, obsidian eyes. She introduced herself as Tica, a noblewoman and heir to the seat of Antis. From the cup's rim, Tica dyed her lips, painting both petals carmine, making even Gwen gulp. When she relayed the goblet, the Void Mage could taste the fecundity radiating from Tica's body. A Plant Mage! She wrinkled her nose at the nostalgic fragrance. At the goblet's base, their fingers touched. A mote of something passed between them. Their eyes met. "The flesh of Inti, from me to you, sister under the sun," Tica parroted. "Sister." Gwen raised the goblet, then took a mouthful. The briny-blood was pungent but full of life. As a scalding line of raw vitality, it travelled down her gullet, flushing her body pink. "Oh…" Gwen gasped, realising she had let loose an indiscreet moan. "Inti appears to agree with you." Tica's smiling eyes formed two half-moons. "May we converse during the luncheon?" Gwen nodded, then passed the goblet to a caramel giant taller than Richard and twice the bulk by the name of "Tupaq". TUPAC?! Gwen almost regurgitated her plasma-de-llama. She regarded the rapper extraordinaire but was disappointed when the man spoke in Quechua. The ritual continued. Thanks to Mayuree running a discrete variation of Detect Magic, Fudan measured up their opponents. The Incan team consisted of five men and five women. Inti Yupanqui-Cápac, princeling and Radiant Mage, was Cuzco's captain. Tica Chuquipoma-Yupanqui was their vice-captain, a Plant Mage. Her School of Magic was indeterminable, though Gwen did detect the familiar scent of a fellow Conjurer, one that had mastery over a sprite that smelled like Sufina. Tupaq was a Mage with a hint of Abjuration. Likely a local specialist. The other three men were not nearly as impressive as Inti and Tupaq, carrying the aura of casters at tier 5 or below. Uturunku was an Earthen Transmuter-Abjurer. Urqu, who wore a headdress of condor feathers, had the feel of an Air Mage with a mix of Transmutation and Divination. Qari appeared a Fire Evoker, though Jiro found the man's Affinity inferior by far. Behind Tica were the female members of the Incan team. Sumatika was a water Mage of an indistinct school. Misi was a CQB Mage, evidenced by her dancer's figure and the obsidian daggers strapped to her thighs. Kusi, Misi's sister, was again a Mage of indistinct magic. Mallqu was the last member, one Mayuree determined to be a Support caster. It was an imbalanced lineup, Gwen deduced. The sort Walken noted as a team held together by a few core members whose abilities were extraordinary. "That makes sense, really," her teacher had wisely articulated. "In a society of enforced homogeny, mediocrity is celebrated. If individuals like Inti popped up all over, how would the Empire maintain itself?" "One mountain does not brook two tigers." Bai nodded in agreement. "Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere," Gwen added her piece. "Not to mention we're talking dragons, condors, couatls, pumas…" Walken chuckled. "Harmony-over-competition isn't a bad thing. Until you realise there's a shortage of talent to repel the next Tide." Ergo, to defeat Cuzco National, the easiest thing to do was to knock out Inti and Tica. "Take care," Walken warned them. "From now until the finals, all your CCs will be accumulated. Through victory for each match, your scores will flow onto the next. In the event of a tie or total failure - the team with the higher CC total will emerge the victor. In that regard, prioritise your quest. Deal with Inti only if necessary." "And the locals have home-ground trump cards," Richard said. "We have to tread lightly and carry a big wand." Gwen's attention returned to the ceremony. The llama was now being carried out. Later it would be blessed with pepper and rock salt. "Blessed Inti!" the high priest declared to the amber mural. "O radiant day-star that melts the snow and makes the maize rise." "Inti!" The members of Cuzco National saluted the dais by crossing their wristbands across their chest. It was the customary greeting used by the Empire's elite. "Inti!" "Inti!" "Inti!" Prayers to the Sun God filled the cathedral. From start to finish, the ceremony had taken two hours. "We now invite Lord Auberon Lucas to speak." The high priest vacated for the chief proctor and his assistant. The Baron of Shenfield took to the stage with effortless ease. "Students, advisors, and guests- welcome to the international round of the 2004 IIUC. This morn, in beautiful Cuzco, we accept this invitation issued by the Royal House of Cápac." "To our hosts! It is with great pleasure that the committee accepts your summon. In the coming days and beyond, may our friendship flourish, and our cooperation be fruitful!" Applause. "Fudan!" Auberon turned to the contestants. "You have travelled far, and I salute your ardour. Cuzco National! We thank your generosity and grace. To all of our contestants, I hope that you shall keep your heart firm, your valour strong and your honour immutable!" His assistant Magister handed him a scroll. "Your TASK!" Auberon unfurled the parchment with a dramatic flourish. "Shall take place beyond the edge of the Eastern Suyu." A startled murmur spread through the Incan audience, including Cuzco's contestants. Inti and Tica swapped a knowing glance. Fudan remained unmoved, vaguely aware that the Amazonian region was virginal Wildland but otherwise possessing no idea why the Inca grew agitated. The chief proctor waited until the congregation quietened down. "You have heard correctly. In preparation for this event, our joint-survey with the Cuzco Tower, under Magister Amaru Paullu-Yupanqui, has unveiled a Dungeon in the hitherto unmapped region of Divi-Loc 12.61 S: 70.40 W." Another murmur broke out over the assembly. "Of course, we use the term Dungeon empirically. As for what our students shall find, I now invite our host to explain." A thunderous meeting of palms rang out as Achiq, the Sapa Inca of the Four Corners of the World, took to the platform. Betraying Gwen's expectations, the king was a homely man with a modest bearing that reminded her of a middle-aged CEO. He stood a head shorter than his son, Inti, and sunken eye-bags marred his serious face. The contrast was so stark that for a moment, Gwen found it difficult to believe that the dry-looking sovereign could have sired his golden boy. Indeed, even with his golden mantle and headdress, the king's aura remained demure. "Contestants, guests and friends," the Sapa began. "During the Tide, we lost vast areas of the Antis region to the monsters of Amazonia. Though we have recovered much, many of our ancestor's teachings and relics remain displaced. In this hour of our need, what brother Amaru has uncovered for the contest is one such piece of our past - an ancient temple dedicated to Mama Killa, the Moon Mother and her husband, Inti. Potentially, within the ruin rests many treasures- from lost scripture noted in the annuls of Quipu tapestries, to relics and wards from a time of old magic." "As such, upon the shoulders of these young people, I wish to place the burden of recovering these precious artefacts. With the anticipation and hope of the people of Cuzco behind them, these brave warriors will enter the shadow of Amazonia and return our idols to the light!" Auberon waited for the clamour to finish before taking over. "Thank you. Your Majesty." He bowed, then turned to face the contestants. "Students, the Dungeon shall be a trial of intelligence, wit, and mastery over magic! Heed the Sapa's call to arms! The Quest to which you have been given will consist of two components. There shall be two parties of five members. First is the Explorer Team. Your task is to proceed into the unmapped region of Amazonia and locate said temple at the crossroads where three waterways meet. You shall follow the footsteps of great adventurers like Magister Shackleton and Meister Elijah Mallory in mapping the region for your companions." "Should you succeed in locating the temple. Your instructions will be given to the second group — the Dungeoneering Team. Following your companions' footsteps, you will arrive at the ruins, ready to delve into its depth. In keeping with the dungeoneering spirit, I wish to inform you that not even your proctors know what awaits. All we possess is a record of what the Temple is said to hold. As the mission stands, CCs are awarded for artefacts, crystals, relics, and magical ingredients recovered. For additional credit, extraordinary events, combat, cooperation and preservation of the historical site may apply." Auberon paused to study the students. "Naturally, risk of life and limb is part and parcel the life of an Adventurer. I know that some of you may be wondering if Contingency will function in an isolated Black Zone. Well, I have good news for you." "As a precaution, a special Contingency Ring has been crafted for all contestants, courtesy of Magister Amaru. The IIUC is aware that the impenetrability of the Amazon basin's dense vegetation will negate all effects bar the highest-tier of items. These custom rings have been modified to take you to the Cuzco Tower, as they have been manually attuned with resonating quartz-crystals unique to each ring." The students from Cuzco relaxed. From their expressions, Gwen noted that not many of them possessed Contingency Rings in the first place. Comparatively, Fudan's cohort was well-provisioned, though they grew glad that in the worst-case scenario, they would be spared the cost. "What a generous Tower Master." Richard applauded the bald Magister standing behind the Sapa Inca. "Complimentary insurance. How thoughtful." Listening to Richard's miserly delight, Gwen couldn't help but think of an old saying- _there's no such thing as a free lunch._ For sure, she noted, there was going to be mortal danger. "Students, friends, good Masters of Cuzco! Welcome to the 2004 opening match of the International Inter-University Competition!" Auberon raised his voice expansively as the guests and audience rose to their feet. "Students, in the spirit of fairness and genuine adventure, your trial begins at 0900 tomorrow morning! Good luck!"

Following the ceremony and the announcement, the teams took an hour to change their attires, re-emerging at noon into a converted courtyard. Ever the suspicious cynic, Walken subtly patrolled the perimeter, studying the site for anything of interest that may befoul the team. By the time the party was in full swing, he couldn't help but acknowledge a woeful absence. There was no duelling arena. Indeed, no space had been reserved for Fudan's foremost strategy. There wasn't even a barrier. Should a fight break out, there was a genuine possibility of damaging the ancient temple. _Well, bollocks,_ Walken grumbled to himself. How could Gwen lay down the gauntlet when there's no place to jostle? "What's the meaning of this?" He quickly joined the conspiracy of proctors in the courtyard. "Auberon?" "You've got me there." The chief proctor put up both hands in a gesture of innocence. "Maybe they got wind of your Void Sorceress' records? I heard she has never lost a duel. That and she pounded down a pseudo-mythic in Burma. Who the hell would want to duel that?" "..." Fudan's instructor blinked. What Auberon said made a lot of sense. "If I were Cuzco, I wouldn't want to shame my princeling in public either." Auberon shrugged. "The son of a God must remain as such- you get my meaning?" It was a reasonable conjecture. Could it be true? Walken wondered to himself. Was this that Militant Pacifism he had heard from Kilroy? Supposedly, it was Gwen who came up with the idea. His eyes passed the Incan nobles in their gold and jewels. It didn't take much effort to locate his cabal of sorceresses. There was Gwen, Petra, the golden boy, and the smitten priestess. "Walken, you worrywart, leave them be," the Baron of Shenfield advised, "What is she, your apprentice? Didn't you kill her beloved Master?" "You know that's not true," Walken warned his friend. "I am worried she might get us kicked out. You know what she did to the heirs to the Yooksung Group?" "I too saw the Vid-cast." "If she thrashes him in his temple..." "Don't be such a prude, Eric." Auberon swirled the Argentinian Malbec in his glass. "Let the kids have their fun." "What fun would that be?" A third voice joined their conversation. It was Cuzco's Tower Master, now the majordomo. "Eric- you remember our host?" Auberon bowed, then brought the two face to face. "We met at the 97 Los Angeles PACT conference." Walken suppressed a shameful flush of the cheeks. When he had last met Cuzco's Tower Master, they had been equals. "I doubt one of the Ten would recall a provincial like me," sounded a voice with the consistency of silk. "Nonetheless, the pleasure is all mine, Eric..." For an international broadcast, a smidgen of nationalism for the home front was expected. As such, cultural outfits had been the theme both Fudan and Cuzco had chosen for the mid-day llama feast. On Cuzco's side, its members were ceremoniously adorned with a king's ransom of gold. Conversely, the Asian students elected a Shanghai speciality: silk cheongsams provided gratis by a designer in Suzhou. For the men, their formal attires gave them a gravity which the youngsters lacked, adding significantly to Fudan's presentation. As for the girls, the styles which Gwen had picked out were elegant and provocative, scandalising the Incans with an attire that had bedazzled European expatriates for a century. In their figure-hugging outfits and colour-matched heels, the girls cast such a sight that Jiro had trouble walking. Playing their part as the team's poster-girls, Gwen and Petra made the rounds, shook hands and flirted with the smitten locals before taking advantage of lumen-ops that would soon arrive back home. For Gwen, it was business as usual, while Petra's coldness only made her more mysterious and alluring. Sure enough, once the party had the momentum to proceed on its own, Inti approached. In his conforming-tunic, the young man was awe-inspiring. With his natural tan and trained body, Inti wouldn't look out of place if he were to apply zinc to his nose and emerge from the surf at Bondi. "What do you think?" She nudged her cousin. "Ripper of a bloke, eh? You keen?" Petra's answer came in the form of a playful pinch that made Gwen yelp. But before Gwen could ply the old charm, a priestess intercepted the prince before he could introduce himself. "Miss Song, it gets cold in Cuzco." A set of dark pupils traced the arch of Gwen's dress from hip to ankle. "I hope you won't catch a cold before the match." "A chill, when the sun's so close?" Gwen suppressed a smirk as she teased her hapless interloper. Behind the girl, she caught Inti trying to place his eyes somewhere innocuous. To gaze at the vice-captain's face was too embarrassing, looking lower was lewd, and to stare at her feet was perhaps worse. She flashed a winning smile, urging Petra to do likewise. Before they duelled, it was good to lower her opponent's guard. "So, Prince In—" "He's taken." Tica's interruption snapped like a whip. "We're engaged!" "..." "..." "..." An awkward silence reigned as Tica gloated. Gwen wondered if she could get Tica into a duel by flirting with Inti. Petra had a dozen spells she had wanted to test on the Radiant Mage. Cuzco's captain soon broke the tension by changing the topic. "Dear ladies, may I borrow both of you to sound a proposal?" An overpowering earnestness washed over them like warm water. "Miss Gwen, as Fudan's Ace, I understand you occupy a central position within the team. Will you lend me your ear?" Gwen lowered her eyes for a moment to circulate a mote of Almudj's Essence. Whether intentional or otherwise, Inti's unadulterated positivity was intoxicating. "Of course, I'm happy to listen." "Thank you. Then I shall make my case." Inti appeared unfazed by Gwen's glowing irises. "As you well know, Uncle Amaru has set a quest that benefits my people. No matter which one of us is the victor, Cuzco remains a beneficiary." "That's right," Gwen concurred. "And?" "And as such, we would be obliged if our missions could be carried out cooperatively." "Oh?" Gwen studied the man's unblinking eyes. Cooperation? She was here to kick his ass, and he wanted to hold hands? In the previous match, both Jiantong and Seoul had wanted to butt heads, while Kyoto was an ally of circumstance. "From the get-go?" "Yes, from the beginning." Inti showed off his perfect teeth. "In Amazonia, survival will be our greatest challenge, not each other. If so, why not strike an accord? Our competition shouldn't be won or lost because of us undermining one another. We can both benefit." "A win-win?" Gwen rested a hand against her hip, fascinated by the prince's selfless generosity. The proposal was tempting. After all, wasn't the Middle Faction's motto mutual gain and mutual compromise? "I won't say no, but you can't expect me to believe you're happy with losing? Doesn't Cuzco have home advantage? Why should you hamstring yourselves?" When he next spoke, Inti's voice took on a resonant, euphonic quality. "Miss Gwen, I am imploring you because I am a realist. I am under no delusion that Cuzco National will measure up against opponents outside our domain. I know that compared to the Europeans, our meagre mastery of Spellcraft will not win us the IIUC." "You say that now—" she protested. "Miss Gwen. I know you wanted to use the luncheon to duel myself and Tica." Inti's words exposed her naked ambition. "I've heard of your prowess. However, in my opinion, senseless fighting will only sour our future cooperation. That's why I had the duelling arenas removed." Gwen chuckled uncomfortably. Beating seven shade of shit out of Inti had indeed graced her and Walken's data slates. "Let me say this: progressing to round two isn't our principal objective." The Incan candidness caught her flatfooted. "With the quest unveiled, we have more important objectives. Do you wish to know why Cuzco strived to enter the IIUC?" Gwen shrugged. "It's so that we can remind the world that the Empire is a bastion of humanity" Inti intoned reverently. "For the days ahead, we will prove to the world that in Amazonia lies the greatest threat to the continuation of human dominion in the region. Should there be another beast-tide, South America may become a Demi-human continent." Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Inti's eyes burned with conviction. "I bring, therefore, a proposal of peace. In the days ahead, we shall not impede one another's progress in our quests. As we are all siblings under the sun, should we not act as such? Cuzco has no conflict with Shanghai. Why not let us open a new chapter of cooperation between our two cities? I sincerely believe that in working hand-in-hand, we shall both succeed in our endeavours." Inti glowed, and his audience quaked. Gwen felt her heart soften. In her eyes, Inti appeared as though a radiant labrador begging with liquid eyes. To refuse would be kicking the biggest puppy under the sun. "I understand if you find it difficult to trust us," Inti whined. "I would be suspicious too. As a show of sincerity, my team shall swear on Inti's name that there will be no betrayal..." "Hold your llamas." Gwen stopped the prince before he could continue to paw at her conscience. "Let me get Tei." Taking advantage of her height, she scanned the party for her teammates. There was the flirtatious Jiro, keeping a dozen dates with a dozen priestess candidates, letting the girls pet his Firebird. Behind the young man, Rene answered questions while trying to keep Jiro from the giggling virgins. In a shaded corner, Mayuree and Eunae hid behind the dessert table, two introverts perfectly happy to be left alone. Across the courtyard, Richard conversed with the proctors, gathering intel. Beside the carvery, Lulan was slowly whittling the llama down to the bone. Finally, she spotted Tei speaking to the Incan giant, Tupaq. "Cap!" Gwen's voice summoned her captain to the corner where she and Petra stood in opposition to the golden prince and his bangled priestess. "Inti has offered us a deal." The two captains shook; then Inti made his case. Tei fell into silence. Gwen knew her captain's dilemma, for their original plan centred around harassing Cuzco with her hounds and Familiars. If indeed Inti wanted a cooperative mission, was it then to Fudan's advantage or disadvantage? If so, was this a multi-dimensional ploy, or the innocent hope of a princeling? "So that you know, I am fine with cooperation" Gwen delivered her verdict, drawing on her experience in Singapore. "Trust me when I say that between trolls, insects, carnivorous plants and the other demi-humans, we'll be taxed beyond belief." Tei weighed her words. "Captain, allow me to share a token of our sincerity," Inti earnestly intoned. "According to Quipu records, the lost temple of Mama Killa isn't a single structure. It's a sprawling city-centre swallowed by the jungle." "Oh, I see!" Gwen threw away her vision of a half-sunken Indiana movie set. She had been to Angkor Wat in her past life and could imagine the majesty of a lost city consumed by the wilderness. If so, then the Explorer team would indeed struggle to locate such a site. In her old world, even with regular, non-magical trees, Machu Picchu had remained hidden for four centuries. Tei thanked the prince. As the heir to a family of tomb guardians, he was no stranger to lost relics. If the "temple" was instead a vine-strewn city, then the competitive prospect of recovering relics had improved immensely. During the dungeon dive, the teams could race to the middle while watching one another's backs. With Gwen on their side, he had full confidence in a clean sweep through the complex that would leave no stone unturned. "Well?" Tica butted in, breaking Inti's spell to critique Fudan's indecision. "Are all foreigners so lacking in trust?" Tei looked to his vice-captain. Gwen struck out a hand. The two captains and vice-captains exchanged handshakes. The commotion was such that both scattered teams gravitated toward their leaders. "ALRIGHT!" Gwen quickly freed her fingers from Inti's hands when Tica's lips twitched. "Let's celebrate!" Inti motioned for more wine. "No, no." Gwen materialised a white-jade bottle of half-century-old Maotai. From the other, she placed a dozen shot-glasses on a side table. "THIS is the Chicha of the orient, made from the finest scarlet sorghum. To celebrate our cooperation, why not have a friendly competition?" "Ha!" Tica confronted her opponent, though her face only reached Gwen's chin. "I shall take you up on that offer!" "Miss Tica, in the interest of our burgeoning friendship, I must inform you that Gwen has Russian blood," Petra forewarned their host. "When drinking, we have no equal." "Oh, yes, the 'Russian' blood," Gwen smirked like a fox in a hen house. Without adieu, she poured. To the chagrin of his handlers, Inti drank without so much as a nod from the poison-taster. "Somaq Mihuna!" the prince exhaled fragrantly, demonstrating his trust. "Wonderful!" Tica followed suit, then flushed scarlet. Petra passed a cup to Tei before happily supping her own. Gwen slammed her thimble without blinking, then topped up the cups once more. "Kawsaypac!" "Gānbēi!" "Cheers!" They drank their drinks. They filled the cups. "Kawsaypac!" "Gānbēi!" "Cheers!" Rinse. Repeat. "Good man!" Gwen gave Inti a thumbs up. "To friendship!" Tei despaired. Three shots down and his vice-captain's bottle-hand remained steadier than an Earth Elemental. Russian blood? More like draconic-constitution! What happened to honour? What happened to honesty? Was Fudan going back on their word so soon? At night, Fudan's cabal of Mages gathered in Gwen's portable habitat. "Are you satisfied?" Walken admonished his students. "I was testing his abilities." Gwen grinned. The rest of the team snorted. "Did you forget I was there?" their advisor grunted. "Inti had to be carried out! Amaru's niece was one shawl away from wearing nothing but a tunic!" "So close!" Jiro sighed before being glared into submission. "A full-body tunic," Gwen protested. "They're the ones who wanted to mix-alcohols! Amateurs." "I told you to handle them with care!" "That was me with kid-gloves." The Void Sorceress pouted. "If I used schooners, one of them might have died." "You're an addict!" "Killjoy!" Walken clutched his chest with a pained expression, trying his best to keep his impulses in check. "Alright, alright." Richard came between them. To Gwen, Eric was on her level, but to the rest of the gawking team, Walken was a renowned Magister. "Sir, your advice?" "Hmmph!" Walken huffed. "Back to the business then: Contingency Rings. Team makeups. Amazonia. Collaboration and competition." He tapped his data slate. "I want to hear your proposals. Gwen, if you're so sober, let's start with you..." A strange song lifted through the golden hall of Sacsahuamán. _"Prince Inti_ _Shinny is he:_ _Inti of Coricancha—_ _Strong as ten regular Evokers, probably!_ _He faced the trollish galloping hordes—_ _A hundred ogres with swords—_ _Then threw them all in the SUN!_ _Oh, Prince Inti—"_ The adolescent acolytes of Inti's temple grew hypnotised by the chant of a green-eyed Void Witch. _"He's got sixty priestesses to attend to,_ _and he's got virginal llamas galore…"_ "Gwen!" her instructor hissed at the girl's embarrassing display. What the hell was she teaching these kids?! Why were the lyrics so lewd? "Get back here!" The girl returned. "Inti's late…" she eyed Cuzco National's team just beside them, all present except for two central figures. Yawning, she stretched her legs. Tupaq the giant caught her eye before flushing a deep scarlet, changing the colour of his face from caramel to chocolate. As for the rest, the Incan team eyed Fudan enviously, gawking at their attire in the same way Fudan had eyeballed Seoul's thrice-enchanted uniforms. For their international leg, Gwen and her peers wore quasi-magical combat suits sourced from the PLA. The whole ordeal had begun when Gwen convinced Guo to send a note upward that her team was fighting in rag-tag, often un-attuned clothing. To prove her point, she showed him her shredded bodysuit and cried wolf about the possibility of indecent exposure while overseas. Her grandfather had then grunted that he would look into it. A week later, there was a surprise inventory audit at the PLA Tower. Serendipitously, ten suits of Shen-teī RECON MKII Operator's Garb soon arrived at Fudan. The design was proudly plagiarised from the lastest American variant: the plating absorbed damage, the mesh was self-healing, the interior self-cooling, and the fit was self-adjusting. Haughtily, Gwen played with her straps, then once again polluted the sanctified air with her Gwenisms. _"Prince Inti!_ _Shinny is he-_ _Inti of Coricancha…"_ 0950. _Clang!_ The double-doors opened. "My apologies for the delay!" Tica followed Inti demurely as the prince burst through the door with great dread. In front of her, the crowd grew instantly scandalised. They had never seen the prince so dishevelled. Tica groaned, her memory was a mess. When Tei Bai retired after three glasses, Cuzco National had gotten its hopes up. Then after that, Tica recollected nothing. All she possessed were vague images of Chicha, Aztech tequila, Argentinian red and Chinese Maotai; that and the wicked witch's smiling face. Tica scanned the crowd, then sucked in a breath of cold air. Fudan's contestants appeared as though dressed for war. The witch waved back. Seeing that the hussy was haler than a Frost-troll Howler, Tica's stomach cramped. Yesterday, she and Inti had spent an hour hugging the golden throne, despairing when not even a Restoration could clear the effects of scarlet sorghum. Unlike Chicha, Maotai was an elixir-like suffusion. Amaru approached. Tica felt her back covered in cold sweat. When provoked, her master could be madder than a plucked condor. Thankfully, the chief proctor proceded her uncle. After welcoming the students, he asked them to register their inventory, declare all goods, then thumb the disclaimer for the Eye of Providence. At the end of the hour-long inspection, Magister Amaru Paullu-Yupanqui presented the students with their Contingency Rings. When her uncle placed the ring in Tica's hands, he gave her fingers a subtle squeeze, easing her anxiety. The jungle was a dangerous place, and Tica suspected the key rationale her master had the rings crafted was for her and Inti's safety. "Students! These are the rings tied to the mother-lode inside Cuzco Tower," the kindly Tower Master explained with great patience. "As they use the same Enchantment as your Contingency Rings, both items cannot be concurrently equipped. As such, you have the option of using the given device or your own. Should you do so, Cuzco is not liable for your safety." Tica watched as a few of Fudan's students incanted their secret commands, then removed their rings. Conversely, Cuzco's team had scant members wealthy enough to own Contingency devices. The palpable difference was enough to engender a feeling of inferiority. If Shanghai was wealthy enough to equip their team with military Magi-tech and devices worth hundreds of thousands of HDMs, what would a top twenty team from London or Berlin or Los Angeles possess? With Cuzco's limited trade with the nations up north, how could they compete against that? Her uncle Amaru had likewise said that the Inca needed desperately to catch up with the rest of the world. Now, seeing Fudan in their colour-coordinated skin-suits, she couldn't help but acknowledge that the Empire had a ways to go. "... I shall await your arrival at our basecamp in Marcapata." Auberon had reached the end of his speech. "Let me remind you that beyond the Gate of the Condor, there is nought but Amazonia until you hit the South Atlantic. Try not to miss it..." The teams moved out. Once outside, a group of nobles, including the Sapa Inca, met the students for final well-wishes. "May your noon be bright and fair." The Sapa kissed his son on the forehead, touching his three condor feathers to Inti's two. He then drew Tica close and kissed her forehead as well. "Be safe, daughter." Tica blushed. Her father was there as well, and he likewise kissed his daughter. "Tica, take care of Inti." "You know I will." Tica pulled herself away. "Solpayki, Father." "Tupananchikkama." In the Quechua tongue, the term favourably meant "until we meet again." As for Fudan, they had only their advisor to see them off, a sad contrast that improved Tica's mood. "Students!" her uncle, the Tower Master of Cuzco, ordered the contestants forward. "May the blessing of Inti fall upon you even in the darkness of Amazonia!"

To the sound of musical fanfare, cheering crowds, and the ear-piercing screeches of Inti's fans, the student Mages took to the air. From above, the terracotta vista of Cuzco revealed itself as an earthen puma, resembling a filled-in Nazca figure. "Alright, partner," Gwen affected a northern accent. "Where to?" "To the east!" Inti spoke for his team. "Condor's Rise isn't far. A few hours at most." "Lead the way, brother." Cuzco's young prince rose above his peers. As they passed Cuzco's gates, curious farmers gazed from their fields of mountain maize, marvelling at the twin formations moving in tandem. Three hours later, the assembly of students arrived. Marcapata was a sentry town with a small population of enterprising locals living in a dozen modest mud-brick homes. It housed a hundred Incan warriors and a contingent of Mages overseeing the Teleportation Circle. As a fortification, the township was constructed cliff-side so that the west-facing portion of the village rested on a green plateau of short shrubs and gentle cornfields. The eastern reach was a sheer drop of over a kilometre, with its jagged cliff faces halting the emerald sea. When the two teams landed in the courtyard, their chief proctor narrowed his eyes, then walked a perimeter around the students. "You flew here from Cuzco?" "Yessir." Inti bowed, joined by his counterparts. "Without drama?" "None, sir." Tei saluted. "We're ready to proceed." Auberon appeared at a loss for words. He spotted the Void Sorceress behind the others, chit-chattering with Cuzco's vice-captain. "Right." The proctor scratched his chin. "Well then, let's get on with it. Split into your nominated teams; then I'll arrange your accommodations. You want to do this publically or in private?" "Tei? Gwen?" "Here's fine." The teams parted. Auberon Lucas wondered if he had underrated the sincerity of the llama luncheon. In front of him, hiding nothing, the teams made their strategies self-evident. Unsurprisingly, Cuzco's Explorers consisted of Tica as their squad leader. The Plant Mage was all kinds of unwilling to part from her beau, but the circumstances of the quest compelled them to take on their most suitable roles. On paper and in life, a Plant Mage with a Rainforest Sprite was a superior choice for the Explorer team, one that was wasted in the stony depth of the temple complex. Cuzco National's next member was a scout by the name of Urqu, a Transmuter dabbling in Divination. From Urqu's feather-strewn cowl, Auberon suspected there was more to the young man than his unassuming biometrics. Following the two core Explorers were three others. Uturunku was the Earthen Abjurer, Sumatika a Water Transmuter-Evoker, and finally, Qari was a Fire Evoker-Conjurer with an unusual Spirit. Across the divide, Fudan's Explorers consisted of Richard as their leader, Anita on mobile defence, Jiro on offence, Eunae on utility, and Mayuree as Diviner. From the looks of the line-up, Fudan likely suspected that the lion's share of troubles would occur in the temple ruin. As such, members incapable of superior defence or instant-mobility such as Eunae and Mayuree would likely serve as hindrances. Conveniently, having a full-time Diviner and a Cleric supplementing Cuzco's Explorers was a palpable olive branch. A few hugs later, the line-up was completed. Inti's team consisted of the prince, the gentle giant Tupaq, the two sisters Misi and Kusi, and Mallqu, a quiet girl playing the utilitarian role. Fudan's Dungeoneers, meanwhile, consisted of their captain, Tei Bai, Gwen Song, the Mineral Mage Petra, Rene the Magma Mage, and Lulan Li. "Very good," Auberon Lucas ordered a proctor to take down their names. The Magister then materialised two data slates. Richard and Tica stepped up to receive their teams' respective cartographic devices. "The general location of the ruins has been pre-marked. Likewise, the map will record your progress," Auberon advised both Explorer teams. "If in one week you cannot find the ruins, your mission has failed, and you may use the map to trek back to Marcapata. Should you succeed in finding the ruins, mark it on your map, and we will deliver a duplicate copy to your Dungeoneering team. Once your mission is complete, return immediately to basecamp. As with your regional competitions, you are solely responsible for your safety. Any questions?" The teams remained mum. There was no doubt that the road ahead was full of danger, but who would want to hear it from the horse's mouth? "Well?" Auberon studied the teams, hoping for some friction. "Sir." Inti bowed. "Please excuse us. We're going to have a meeting." The chief proctor twisted his lips. Was this the IIUC, or a sanctioned Field Trip? Once the two teams made a huddle, Inti informed them that humans travelling through Amazonia had to choose a stratum between the sky and the forest floor. Confused by Inti's words, Gwen asked for elucidation. "I'll explain," Tica was the one who interjected. "Inti's not from this area, so he hasn't seen the true extent of what we're about to face. Coca!" A jade-green seed pod struck the ground, materialised from Tica's pocket dimension. It dug into the hard stone, then sprouted into a little terrarium-like display. "Is that your Spirit?" Gwen inspected the near-instant miniature rainforest. "Not exactly." Tica smirked. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." The two girls exchanged cordial grins. "Ariel!" "Coca!" "EEEE!" Ariel struck a pose the moment it materialised, flashing its new horns and brilliant mane. "EE! EE!" "..." An alien plant silently stood beside the contestants. Each to each, the members of both teams surrounded their vice-captain's Familiars. Ariel swished its tail, blew out its mane, then stalked in a circle as though best-in-show at Crufts. "May I touch it?" Even Inti appeared impressed. "Is it a dragon? No, it resembles a hound, not a puma, and it has no wings. A chimaera? A deer-weasel-fish?!" "Ariel is a Kirin." Gwen returned politely, wondering what kind of a dragon was an oversized cat with wings. "Ee!" Ariel huffed. It was most certainly not a weasel! Fudan's attention turned to Tica's Coca. "..." The plant quivered with embarrassment. It was the strangest, most alien thing Gwen had ever seen. The questions hammering at Fudan's collective lips was "Wocao! What is that?" and "Seriously?" but they were too polite to say so. "It's... a Sundew?" Richard suddenly spoke up. "It's an actual plant? You have an actual nature Sprite? That's amazing!" Unsure of what to make of Tica's beast, Gwen feigned delight. The "plant" possessed hundreds of tentacles that formed a bloom some half-a-meter across. The centre had a strange pink hole, while on all the stalks a drop of sticky liquid engendered like honey. It was quite beautiful, but hardly the sort of thing a girl could hug, kiss or take to bed to cuddle. "It's a plant!" Richard appeared genuinely impressed. "Gwen, recall that magical-plants don't usually have cores. This has to be a rare hybrid, or a unique Alraune or a Spriggan! How precious!" Gwen clapped. She didn't even know what a Sundew was. Tica, meanwhile, was all sorts of pleased by Richard's recognition of her Familiar's greatness, finding an unexpected ally against the absurdly dashing Ariel. When she turned to Inti to see if her beau was jealous that someone else was praising her; Tica found Inti neck-deep in the Kirin's fur, groaning softly. "..." Tica despaired. "..." Coca wept bitter, sticky secretions. Sighing, Tica explained the journey ahead, using her terrarium as a diagram. Firstly, Amazonia was enormous. The region's outer rim was an Orange Zone, extending for about a hundred kilometres inward. The trees in this region were usually mundane, ranging from ten to a hundred meters, growing on the volcanic slopes of the Andes. The inner segment of Amazonia, beginning where the foliage grew too dense for the sunlight to penetrate, was the domain of magical flora and fauna. From trees to fungi to predatory beasts to demi-humans like trolls, it made human exploration a farcical dream. "Then there's the heart of the Amazonia," Tica explained. "The Quipu scripts tell us that the Apu live there and that there is a great tree larger than any other in the forest's midst. BUT, no one has seen it, and no Mage has ever penetrated that far." For the students' current objective, the 'lost temple' was two hundred kilometres as the harpy flew from Condor's Rise. It wasn't so deep as to put them into troll territory, but neither was it close enough to be in the Orange Zone. "Amazonia's Zone Rating changes depending on the layers..." Tica continued to instruct their Fudan allies with her superior knowledge. In total, she explained, there were four layers. The emergent layer of Amazonia was home to the largest collective of demi-birds in the Americas. Among the treetops of kilometre-tall mahogany and zumaumeira with the girth of skyscrapers, creatures ranging from the diminutive Yellow-breasted Thunderhawk to the man-eating Eagle-clawed Harpy ruled. Conversely, in the "Canopy" lurked hordes of Fang-tooth Macaques and Star-tailed Gibbons. Should the contestants be especially unlucky, there was also the world-famous Displacer Jaguar, the highest tier of Displacer Beasts. The "Understory" of the sea of trees, therefore, marked the safest path for human travel, as the lightless region grew into a wondrous world of luminous fungi, quasi-magical insects, reptiles and mammals. What marked this layer as different to the rest was the denseness of the foliage, making the region ill-suited for apex-fauna. Finally, as for the forest floor, an infinite variety of spiders, slugs, and parasites occupied the sodden darkness. In the rich loam, underground aberrations grew to enormous sizes. Here and there, thickets of decaying foliage swallowed animals wholesale. And that was discounting the trolls. Aghast at Tica's info-graphic, the teams agreed on a mutual route. They would fly within thirty-kilometres of their target, then enter the understory to search for the three rivers that converged on the temple's ruins. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. "Good luck!" Gwen kissed each of her Explorers on the cheeks when all was said and done. She gave Richard her Portable Habitat, instructing him to share it with Tica's team. "Inti's blessing." Cuzco's captain placed a golden symbol around his fiancèe's neck. "Take care." Tica kissed Inti's lips in full view of Gwen and the others, leaving the prince flushing a sunset scarlet. "Stay safe." "I shall." "I'll protect him with my life," Tupaq promised. "Inti's blessing." After more hugs and kisses, the Mages set off from the cliff, leaping from the edge like lemmings. For the first half-day, both teams would fly safely above the canopy, sparing the need to battle whatever creatures that took offence to their presence. Closer to their objective, they would then dip into the ocean of trees to dive for treasure. "Eee! Eee!" Ariel sniffed Inti's tunic, swishing its tail. "I hope they can work together without trouble," Gwen said. "I guess we'll find out in a week." "Tica's a better leader than I." Inti instinctively offered an HDM to Ariel. "What are your plans for the interim?" "Me?" Gwen grinned as she glanced at the rainforest below. "I am going to stock up, care to watch?" Auberon and his team of proctors lounged in their make-shift pavilion, watching the crystal screens display the progress of the Explorers. So far, everything was proceeding smoothly. "How long until they hit the emergent layer?" he requested of his assistant, Lucy. "Six hours at their current trajectory." "A lull then." Auberon yawned. He turned to the other half-dozen proctors currently on duty. "Anything of interest?" "No, sir." "All's quiet here." "They're just flying for now." His assistant switched through the Scrys. "Master Lucas," one of the Senior Mages raised the alarm. "Gwen Song and Tei Bai just left Condor's Rise." "It looks like Inti and Tupaq are joining them," another proctor called out from across the room. "Are we recording the Dungeoneers?" "Not until there's magical activity." "Do it." "Yessir. I am switching to Engine Two." "Where are they going?" Auberon asked the general air. "Get me a direct Scry." The Divination-Engines thrummed as the Magi-tech device began to stream the activities of Fudan's captain, first showing their location, which was the forest below the Marcapata plateau, then the contestants themselves. The proctors followed the students until they landed on the jutting stones. Once alighted, the students engaged in a brief show and tell, with Inti demonstrating the Evocation Radiant Mages were known for, and Tupaq proving his Abjuration skills by blocking Gwen's Lightning. Then, the Void Sorceress tossed a few Chakrams while Tei took a dozen punishing bolts from Inti. All was well until Gwen summoned her Void snake. As anticipated, a great commotion broke out when Tupaq moved to protect Inti. With a great howl, the Tupaq Polymorphed into a puma-like beast, eliciting yelps of admiration from Gwen. The proctors found great mirth in the reaction, for they had all seen the vid-cast from Burma. When Inti almost seared Caliban on reflex, the room burst into laughter. "Caliban needs to consume things to use its skills," the sorceress informed the prince somewhat deceptively, apparently keeping her cards close to her chest. "Please stand well out of range while I activate the feeding magic." Two men and one half-man-half-puma retreated a ways up the cliff. Gwen Song then walked into the jungle. "Good Lord!" a proctor spat. The Void Sorceress soon stood amidst a dark pool, conjuring forth a viscous liquid that writhed and churned. "Ah." Auberon whistled. "Nice." The perspective changed. Now the scene was one in which the Eye of Providence hovered directly over the girl. "Sir." Auberon's assistant, a minor noble by the name of Lucy Pritchard, opened her eyes wide with alarm. "How can she activate high-consumption Void magic without Clerical support?" "How indeed." The chief proctor measured the girl on the screen with his eyes. "Get us closer. Run diagnostics. Get me vital readings." The scene zoomed in. The sorceress seemed to catch something in the air. She turned to face the screen, then flashed a winning grin. "I almost forgot she's a Diviner as well." Auberon smiled back. On their vid-casts, the Void Swarm erupted. A few of the proctors let loose audible gasps as waves after wave of swarming lamprey-things sallied forth into the jungle. When one of the proctors zoomed out to the furthest limit the Eye allowed; what they saw chilled their bones. "The rainforest!" Lucy shivered. "It's dying!" Auberon's mind took a second to catch up. Where there had been a verdant undergrowth of trees licking at the dark granite base of Condor's Rise, now a clearing began to rapidly develop. It was as though the forest had suddenly wilted, receding into the viridian surf like the waning tide. "Sir, a megafauna is incoming," a proctor directed their attention to the edge, where an enormous constrictor covered in scabby skin emerged into the new clearing. With a mighty sweep of its tail, it crushed two-dozen lampreys. Its beady eyes then locked in on the fair-skinned sorceress, tasting her vitality through the polluted air. "How convenient, a tier 6 titan boa." Auberon made sure the group was recording. "Let see how-" "Shaaa! Shaa! SCREEEE!" A creature charged toward the titan. Where it had burst through the trees confident as anything, instinct now bade the boa to flee. The Void Familiar, however, closed the distance in an instant, transforming into a spindly, ten-limbed spider, landing on the gigantic predator with both fore-limbs fully extended. "SHAA!" A scorpion's tail stabbed into the boa's forehead. "... never mind." Auberon's query ended when the Void swarm smothered the trapped snake within a minute. The girl hugged herself, shivering in delight, her cheeks a rosy-pink. Not far, Inti and his guardian-shaman watched with complex, unreadable expressions. "Eric Walken, you devious prick…" Auberon mouthed under his breath. When his alumni had informed him that Fudan would be working with Cuzco, Auberon had scoffed. Now, Auberon's eyes had been opened. This display had shown him what a Void Mage was capable of in a place which was choked with biomass. "Sir?" Lucy, his assistant, was pale as a sheet. "It's fine, Lucy. All within expectations." Auberon dismissed his assistant's unease. "Although, I dare say those codgers at Oxbridge are going to have to review their papers..." Five hours in, Richard's Explorers came upon their first test of faith. "Do we help?" Anita questioned their squad-leader. Below Fudan, combat had been joined between Cuzco and a group of half-bird, half-humanoid creatures Tica had named Copper-claw Harpies. Currently, a dozen of the winged beasts were testing Cuzco's patience, flying in and out of range, swooping back and forth to harass their shields. Cuzco's Abjurer was proving his proficiency, throwing up yellow-tinged barriers to deflect their screeching assailants. "Don't attack!" Tica's voice came through Mayuree's Message relay. "If they mark us, the whole flock will emerge. Remember, this is their home. They'll defend it to the death." "Hold your positions." Richard coolly observed the action below. "Jiro, put your Firebird back in its house." "We're not attacking?" Jiro furrowed his brows. "I reckon we can do it." Richard mentally scanned through the entries from Gwen's bestiary. These particular creatures were unknown, but there was a general entry for Harpies of the Amazon. One annotation affirmed Tica's statement that the death of one or more harpies was sure to bring more. If he were here with Gwen, Richard would not have hesitated to begin a wide-area bombardment, but alas. "If we attack, the whole flock will likely emerge from those trees," Richard pointed to what he suspected to be a nest. "Mia?" "There's a lot," Mayuree interjected before Jiro could answer. "I am sensing a super-dense clump of magical mana. Potentially, there could be thousands." "All the same to me." Jiro was eager to finally show off. "My fire can't be doused." "They may have shamans as well," Mayuree warned. She had likewise read the bestiary. "The more intelligent harpies are worse than trolls." "Mia, any orders from our friends?" "Nothing," Mayuree reported. "I think they're testing us," Richard scoffed. "Untrusting buggers." "What should we do?" "Play along." Their squad leader licked his lip. Silently, he summoned his Familiar. "Lea, if they turn on us, I want a water prison on all of them. Jiro, you see the girl with the blue shawl? That's their Water Mage. If Lea imprisons them, I want her disabled. I'll take care of the rest." "Got it. Let's buff up!" "Crystalline Armour!" Anita encased her team's combat suits with semi-opaque plates. She then touched each of her team members with a lower-tier protection buff against unforeseen status effects. "Resistance!" "Bless!" Eunae bolstered the team's physical and mental conditions before turning to Mayuree and herself. "Sanctuary!" A faint glyph appeared and disappeared, making the two supporting mages less conspicuous. "Tica, its Richard." Fudan's squad leader fired off a Message. "Six-o-clock's the nest, where the two trees arch. We'll follow your lead. I am coming in with a slowing AoE to discourage the birds. Get Sumatika to mist the area. I'll need as much water as possible." "Got it," Tica's voice came through. "Suma?" "Yes, Aclla Cuna." The Water Mage obeyed. Besides Richard, Lea's long blue lashes battered as she transformed into a fine mist before coiling about his body. Richard took a deep breath. "Fudan! Follow my lead!" "Screeee!" Came the cry from a harpy-beast, extending both talons to rake the flesh from Richard's back. As the half-woman, half-condor approached, however, its wings grew suddenly sodden, so much that its feathers began to bead. The bird fell. "EEK!" Where it had fallen, there was a blur. "CAW—" Two simian-shaped beasts snagged the harpy before it could again take flight, dragging it into the canopy. Where they had disappeared, a great hoot of blood-curdling howls indicated an impromptu feast was taking place. "Mia!" Richard sent another bird to its certain doom. "What can you see?" "There's too many of everything!" Mayuree was controlling her Arcane Eye, trying to find a path down into the understory. "We'll have to push through!" "Urqu!" Tica commanded their team's scout, a local of the Antis region and a hunter who had trained in the forest since his Awakening. "Can you lead us down?" Even as she spoke, Tica kept the birds at bay. As soon as she had seen Richard's tactic, she adjusted her own. Where she had harried the harpies with long, whip-like vines reminiscent of Gwen's Dark Tentacles, she now disabled the fliers with globs of sticky residue that sent them reeling below into the awaiting simians. Besides her, Urqu wrapped his feathered shawl around his shoulders, transforming into the likeness of a sparrowhawk, activating a spell with an aura alien to Fudan's Spellcraft knowledge. "I can," Urqu Messaged mid-descent. "It won't be easy though; if we lose someone..." "Anita!" Richard gave the command. "Warding Bond!" Anita activated a rare, party-wide Abjuration she had learned after Burma. At her tier and Affinity, she could daisy-chain five friendlies aside from herself, displacing the damage received among her allies. "Faithful Guardian!" Eunae gestured quickly, equipping the agile flier with a reactive insurance barrier. "Any last words?" Richard joked at Cuzco's expense. Ignoring his ill-humour, Tica held out an inscribed sun-burst figurine. It was Inti's necklace. "No one will die this day. Inti's relic will keep us safe." Her face glowed with confidence. "The Sun's blessing be upon us." Richard blinked. He had initially dismissed the token as a one given out of love. Now she's telling him it's a relic?! The bloody Cult of Inti could produce relics? In his short stint as the Pretorian of Prince's, he had seen relics in the chapels of the Four Houses and the Priests who put them to good use. The divine items weren't rare, but they were exclusive in the extreme, possessed only by trusted members of an organisation's leadership. Based on his limited contact with scriptural magic, producing a relic was complicated in the extreme. First, a unique Creature Core was required as the housing material. Then, a high-tier enchanter inscribed upon the Core consecrated runes. Finally, the sanctified items were kept in a place of worship to collect the ambient mana of the faithful. Then, and only then, servants of the faith could call forth phenomenon divorced from the Imperial System of Magic. Richard's mind was quick to accept the new reality. Indeed, Inti WAS an object of worship. Likewise, Tica without a doubt, a priestess. It was fruitless to fuss over why a Chaplin could deliver a miracle in the heat of a despairing battle. "When we're in the thicket," the priestess intoned haughtily. "I shall invoke the protection of Inti." "Long live Inti, eh?" The two leaders measured one another's response; Tica questioned Richard's sincerity, while Richard's eyes were as placid as a mirrored lake. "I'll tether us." Tica waved her free hand. "Coca!" Nine tendrils whipped out and touched each of the contestants with supremely sticky tips. Richard fought down an impulse to Grease himself right there and then, allowing the vine to grasp his wast. Drawn by the sudden flurry of magic, all around them were now harpies that had taken offence to their entry. "Ladies first," Richard silently ordered Lea to shadow Tica. In the worst-case scenario, the relic had to go. "Follow me!" Urqu appeared to transform his arms into wings, then dived downwards in the likeness of a great condor. Parting the feathery sea, the two groups began their downward descent, with Richard slowing the flocking harpies and Tica glueing their opponents to trees. The others managed with shields and barriers, leaving the butchery to the monkeys. From the emergent layer, they entered Amazonia. "SQAWWWWWRK!" The sudden trill was enough to shatter their eardrums and terminate all thought. In Australia, summer galahs made enough noise to drive green-keepers mad. Compared to that, the cacophony that now arose from atop the canopy was set to a hundred-times the decibel. "Mass Healing Word!" Eunae flooded the party with a feeling of warmth, dulling the pain from their bleeding ears, then furthermore invoked a heal-over-time. "Mass Rejuvenate!" Hundreds, perhaps thousands of birds entered the fray, crashing into the party with great bell-beats of metallic wings clanging against crackling mana barriers. The commotion was enough to send an avalanche of leaves and branches crashing below, eliciting howls of fury from the lower denizens. "CLOSE UP!" Mayuree channelled Richard's command. "Lea! Water SHIELD!" A semi-dome of crashing water fed by Lea, Richard and Sumatika opened the path forward. "Lea, Jet Blast!!" Richard commanded his Familiar, releasing a great geyser of blue-green liquid to disperse the harpies, pushing away the frenzied flock. "We're almost to the canopy!" Mayuree guided them with Arcane Eye while Urqu threaded the party through the crisscross of branches with his supernatural senses. "Forty meters!" In the open air, a Mage could cover forty meters in a matter of seconds. Now, it felt as though they were pushing through a wall of mud, only the murk was composed of beak and claw. "Gust!" Urqu freely poured his mana forth, aiding Richard's efforts. "Aerial Ram!" Thanks to his liberal use of Jet Blast, Richard's mana dropped to half. He summoned an injector in one hand and waited for the divine intervention from their competitor. "We're through!" Mayuree warned them. "Watch out for the monkeys!" There was a violent tug on their waists from Tica's vines, then both teams burst through the flock into the canopy. "HOLY SHIT!" Richard swore the moment his eyes adjusted. What awaited them was a sea of simians big and small, hooting and hollering at the top of their lungs. Where the birds had made their ears bleed, now the noise was enough to burst their hearts. "The Sun shines eternal!" Tica raised the symbol high with one hand. "INTI PROTECTS!" A brilliant light erupted above the team, bathing the dappled canopy with blinding radiance, drowning out even the hoots from the howling simians. "HOW FAR?" Richard shouted despite himself. The silence was deafening. "Another hundred meters!" Mayuree's voice echoed in their heads. "Hold on, I am guiding Urqu through the lower levels!" The radiance continued to burn behind the contestants even as they travelled away from the portable plasma orb. When finally the air around the contestants grew soggy with the scent of fecundity and the sweet odour of decay, they knew that they had arrived at the understory. If Gwen had been present, she would have gone giddy with joy at the sight of the quasi-magical microcosm, a world within a world. Amazonia, alas, was no earthly rainforest. Here was a realm inhabited by mystical flora and magical fauna, where perennials ranged from hundreds to thousands of meters from root to treetop, so dense with mana that the regions between them grew distorted, dilating space and time, becoming Dungeons in themselves.

"Dowsing!" Both parties waited while Mayuree triangulated their path through the understory. By now, the contestants were traversing through a network of intertwining branches, vines, and fungal growth so prolific as to form a subterranean likeness. Occasionally, every hundred or so meters, a clearing would appear, exacerbating an explosive growth of new life reaching for the canopy. "Weal is that way." Mayuree consulted a form of orienteering that required no light, no maps, and no knowledge of geography. It was one of the reasons why Gwen had lent the Diviner to Richard's party. "I think she's right." Urqu consulted their data slate. Tica kept her doubts private since she possessed no alternative solutions. The understory wasn't a place anyone could enter, and as such, getting lost was expected. "Mia is a bloodline Diviner," Richard explained patiently. "She can Scry through the threads of fate to see what will grow: or in this case, where we'll need to go." "We too have sacred women like Miss Mayuree," Urqu, who was an amateur Diviner, concurred. "I did not expect the Chinese to have seers." "I am Burmese." Mia collected her dragon bones. "Fudan has many students from the South Sea." "I am Korean." Eunae raised her hand. "I am Australian," Richard obliged as well. "I am half-Japanese." Jiro pointed at himself. "I am a red-blooded Chinese," Anita declared patriotically. "You all look the same," Qari, the Fire Mage, spoke up. "Maybe you were all a single Empire, once? Like ours?" Richard snorted. The rest of the Fudan foursome stiffened. "Qari, less talk, more action." Tica glared her teammate into submission. "Bring out Peanut." Sensing that he may be in trouble, the Fire Mage made the gesture for Conjuring Familiars, materialising a bulbous scarab the size of a dog. "Kekekeeek!" Peanut possessed six black-marble eyes and a face only a brood mother could love. Its mandible clicked as it warmed up to its summoner, its dull dung beetle body wiggling back and forth. "Ew." Lea appeared behind Richard, her exquisite face bespotted by a frown of disapproval. "Yuk!" Jiro stifled a smile, stroking his flame-plumed bird. Qari's face flushed, feeling the weight of their reproof. Where Fudan's Fire Mage possessed a beautiful sapient fire-condor, he had a bug. Where Richard's Undine was so titillating as to make even Tica blush, his was a beetle. "Peanut, scout ahead of us," Tica directly commanded Qari's Familiar. "Keekeke!" A pair of translucent wings extended from the beetle's shell, then without a word from Qari, it flew into the distance. "I can use Arcane Eye." Mayuree raised her hand again. "Not against the flora here, you can't." Tica waved her away. "Watch." The team followed the hapless Peanut. For the section ahead, the party had been tracing a kilometre-long path formed from the collapse of a great kapok tree. As the trunk was rotten, the party hovered just above the ankle-deep fungi, proceeding in a T-formation. Uturunku and Richard lead on either side, flanking Tica, followed by Mayuree dousing with her dragon bones, Eunae floated the middle, with Jiro, Qari, Urqu, and finally Sumatika and Anita bringing up the rear. Peanut fearlessly buzzed forward until— _BUNG!_ Without warning, when it crossed path with a glowing bed of fungi, the cluster exploded. The resultant blast flung Peanut sideways. On its shell, the spores rapidly began to erode its chitin, transforming the insect into a ball of furry, tiny mushrooms. "Immolate!" Qari shot his Familiar a jolt of fiery mana. _BANG!_ Peanut exploded, showering the sodden earth with a splatter of liquid fire. "Wocao!" Jiro swore. "Peanut!" In the next moment, Qari conjured another. "Kekkekkee?" Peanut flourished its mandibles. It appeared to be the same beetle as before. Tica grinned. "Most of the dangers here are hidden," she explained. "We can use our Familiars to set off the predatory flora, but only Qari has one that can be instantly re-summoned." At the girl's boast, Jiro packed away his feelings of superiority and regarded the fire beetle with respect. He possessed a Firebird, not a Phoenix. If he lost Tanyu, it would be half a day before he could bring it out again. It was true what Instructor Chen had said. Even a cockroach had its uses. "Oh, is that all?" Richard folded his arms, unconvinced by the exploding bug. "Lea? Help me out?" Lea hugged her handsome Conjurer from behind, her blue-green pupils mysterious and mischievous. Richard took a deep breath, then began an all too common invocation, one his Undine would make uncommon. "Conjure Elemental!" Two-dozen water Sprites emerged from the soggy atmosphere, pale blue in their nimbus, comprised of delicate faces attached to elongated necks, with fins for arms and a fishtail for lower extremities. Where usually a Mage exhausted their mana at a dozen, Lea continued to call up her brethren with impunity. Soon, a hundred Sprites filled the vacant path of the understory, saturating the air to such an extent that the contestants began to wonder if they were underwater. "Qari mate, appreciate the effort," Richard dismissed the Fire Mage with a friendly grin. "But look, we're in a hurry, so we'll have to borrow your powers elsewhere. I'll let you know when I am running low." "Oh, my, they're so cute!" Eunae touched the little fan-tailed fish Sprites as they gathered around her and began to play with her hair. Sumatika, the other Water Mage, became instantly surrounded. "Ooo…" Jiro tried to grab one, but the Water Elementals avoided him like the plague. The Fire Mage sighed, wondering when Tanyu could become a tiny hottie. "ATTENTION!" Richard barked. The dainty elementals lined up into pretty rows. "Move out!" Like a brigade of English red-coats, the Sprites drifted through the air. _PUUF!_ In the distance, a Spotted Panther Cap exploded, filling the passage with infectious spores. "Eaaarrrgh!" Two Sprites died a dog's death, their vacant spaces immediately filled in by two more. "How's that?" Richard turned to their Cuzco companions while Lea conjured replacements. "Is that all?" Tica scoffed. "I was giving Qari a chance to be useful. If that's how you want to compete for CCs, I'll oblige. Conjure Elemental!" The ground glowed green. Rows upon rows of broccoli emerged from the fungi. Tica plucked one from the ground and whispered instructions to its buttoned head. "Amazing!" Eunae brought forth Luyi. "SO ADORABLE!" "Eee!" Luyi cooed happily. It licked its chops, then bit into one of Tica's broccoli. "Luyi! No!" _Pssht!_ The walking vegetable blew a load of pollen on Luyi's face, forcing it to drop the wood-elemental with a yelp. The party burst into laughter. "Alright, I'll cover the air, you cover the ground." Richard opened both hands. "Happy?" "Humph!" Tica brushed a fallen leaf from her priestess' shawl, taking on the bearing of a queen. "Let's move!" Behind the main party, Qari picked up Peanut from the floor and hugged his beetle close to his chest. Ahead of them, a cute deer, a cool hawk, a hundred water Sprites and fifty button-broccoli marched on into the jungle's depth, leaping, drifting and flying from mossy branch to fallen log. "Kekeke?" The beetle scratched at Qari's face in a friendly manner. Qari was glad that Peanut was not yet sapient. Sometimes, not knowing was best. "It's fine." Qari patted the poor beast, fighting the inferiority gnawing at his chest. "I am fine." Thankfully, as a Fire Mage, any wayward moisture quickly evaporated. "Earthen Shell!" "JIRO! Alpha-strike! 7 O'clock, tree cove! Take care of the Shaman!" "Phoenix Pinions!" Just before the contestants settled in for the night, they had run headfirst into their first troll patrol. Having experienced the ease by which the sprigs and the Sprites had smoothed their passage, the contestants had loosened their guard until Mayuree cried out "CONTACT! Trolls in the TREES!" The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Their original waypoint had been a large alcove that Urqu had scouted. When he returned, the shapeshifter had reported naught but a verdant growth of exotic fungi. Nonetheless, when the party came within spell range of the sheltered cove, what had greeted them was a volley of mustard spores, followed by an eruption of moss-green bodies. Eunae had immediately set about detoxifying the party while Anita refreshed their armour. What remained of Richard's fish-like Sprites as well as Tica's army of broccoli then smothered the inbound demi-humans, hoping to stall their advance. From the darkness, a troll raised a sinewed limb. _THUNK!_ A wooden spear the thickness of Richard's arm pierced Uturunku's earthen barrier, penetrating just enough so that its envenomed tip almost kissed the Abjurer's chest. Richard responded by commanding Lea to forgo futile barriers; instead, she was to play the disruptor, attracting toward herself physical attacks to which she was immune. Behind him, Urqu raised a powerful Gust to deflect the accuracy of incoming projectiles, while Qari sent forth his Familiar while readying counter-attacks. "Dulrag gunvaderakun glogusakum ishie!" a cry came from behind the Mages' barriers, a foul-sounding grunt of compressed rage. "Ulepearag ushhem! Uloar!" "Uloar!" "Uloar!" "Uloar!" A troll warrior cleared the wall of earth in a single leap, wielding a man-sized block of wood and a spiked, tusked club studded with crude teeth made from harpy-talons. For the first time, Fudan saw their text-booked enemy face-to-face. The Amazonian Troll, affiliated to its European cousins, was a stocky, barrel-chested monstrosity of muscle and sinew, with four elongated limbs and dark, envenomed claws. Its hideous face was a mangled mess of moss and craggy crevices, made salient by two beady eyes lit with an inner light. "Kuk...GUOOD!" The troll's tusked lips parted to reveal soft-pink tissue within, its crimson tongue a mess of fleshy-filaments. _BANG!_ Peanut made a bee-line right for its face. When the troll warrior battered the beetle away with its shield, Peanut exploded, covering the creature with flaming goo. "GAAOOO!" The troll burned. "HA!" Richard cried out. "Nice work, Peanut!" "ULOAR!" The troll's skin grew suddenly scarlet. The light in its eyes changed from maddened beast to pure psychosis. Its back bulged, its muscles ballooned, it raised one whip-like limb and threw its club directly at Qari. Richard's water barrier parted without resistance. Cuzco's Earthen Mage proved a split-second too slow. "SHIELD OF FAITH!" Eunae intervened, erecting a barrier many times the sturdiness of an Abjurer's shield but costing a disproportionate volume of mana. It was a spell that marked the healer's aphorism of prevention over cure. _CLANG!_ The barrier shattered like glass, sending both Qari and Eunae to the mossy, mushroomed floor. Qari reeled from the club's fractured fragments piercing his skin. Eunae self-medicated, fighting the feedback from her disrupted spell. "SHAMAN!" Tica cried out. "Near the back! In the tree!" Richard immediately ordered Jiro to take the Shaman with a wide-area AoE. "TRUE STRIKE!" Mayuree added to Jiro's firepower without a second thought. The Fire Mage's best spell did not disappointed. A barrage of flaming bolts, over a hundred in number and growing fiercer with every explosion, enveloped the hollow, once an ancient acacia. The lightless space instantly filled with orange-yellow eruptions. There was an earth-shuddering sound of splitting wood; then gravity sent the building-sized log tottering into the forest floor below. "Good work! Entangle!" Tica wrestled with two troll warriors who'd been sent into a rage by the now fallen Shaman. Her vines, which could arguably contest a titan boa and even wrangle one to death, were hardly holding the beasts. "Coca! Dissolve!" Where a troll struggled against her paralysing vines, an enormous Sundew burst through the floor and caught the creature in its sticky embrace. "Ashavuth gloge!!" came a terrified cry when a sticky glob of digestive juices smothered its skin, dissolved its bark-armour and began to eat into its body. In the span of a few screaming seconds, the troll grew limp. Tica gasped, evidently taxed by the display. Nonetheless, she held the second troll at bay. "Jiro! Qari!" A flaming fusillade met her target head-on. Acid and Fire, Richard pulled at his lips, a troll's only weakness. These were some unlucky indigenous folks that had happened upon them. "ULOAR!" By now, the first berserker had broken through the Uturunku's layered barriers. Whatever spell the Shaman had used, it wasn't just a body-buff, but transformed it into a living battering ram. "Water Sprout!" Sumatika's spell sent the charging troll careening away from Eunae and Mayuree. Anita stepped in front of the two support casters, offering her body as a last line of defence. "Wait! There's more of them!" Mayuree's voice came through the crackling flames, her mana-infused orbs scanning through the chaos for the unique mana signature of the trolls. "Careful! Two above us!" "Lea!" Richard reacted in time to form a gushing film of water above the team, misdirecting a spear so that its accuracy erred, grazing past Anita's Crystalline thigh-guard. "Arrgh!" Urqu, who had simultaneously flown up to pry the enemy from the branches, fell to the ground, pinned by an arm-thick spear that caught his wing. Thanks to Anita's Mage Armour, his head and torso were safe, but the spell's design did not provision for shapeshifting. "Shit!" Richard cursed his lack of hard shields. "ANITA! Keep them safe!" "Crystal Dome!" Anita immediately formed a protective barrier; though rather than a dome, she had shaped it into a pyramidal structure to divert the troll's spears. "I got them!" "Aid!" Eunae tossed a stabilising buff to the injured Air Mage. "Luyi!" Her doe materialised outside the barrier as a deer. It ran forward toward the injured Air Mage, picked Urqu up by the scruff, then dragged him back toward the healer. "Flame Wing!" Meanwhile, Jiro's hands met with a thunderclap. Tanyu launched from his sides like a meteor in reverse. "Don't collapse the understory!" Tica warned, sending a Shape Wood through the floor to reinforce their position and check for imminent structural failure. "You'll bury us all!" As the upper portion of the understory glowed a vivid orange, the remaining berserker recovered its footing. With a mighty swing of its shield, it battered away Sumatika's water bolts, took three of Tica's barbs in the chest, then ate a Fireball from Qari. Then, the enraged monster smashed into Richard. "No!" Anita cried out; her heart caught in her throat. _Splosh!_ Richard's body exploded, dissipating into motes of water. "Jet Blast!" A raging, hyper-pressurised torrent struck the troll, sending their red-skinned assailant flying from the understory like a cannonball. "GARRRGH!" came twin, concurrent howls from above. Two flaming trolls fell from the branches, smashing into wayward bits of lumber before tumbling into the deep dark. "Flame Arrows!" Qari let loose a wide-volley, peppering the hapless targets until they dropped out of range. Their vice-captain, Tica, threw the last charred corpse overboard. "Scrying..." Mayuree traced the whereabouts of the last troll with her fingers, finding nothing within the limits of her Detect Foe. "Okay. We're clear— for now… Are they dead?" Tica shook her head. "A few are, hopefully. Unless burnt to cinders or dissolved in acid, they'll regenerate and return eventually, usually with more of their kind." "Persistent bastards, eh?" Fudan's squad leader frowned unpleasantly. No wonder trolls were a menace. "Coca, that's enough," Tica commanded her Sundew Familiar. As if to demonstrate the extent to which trolls needed to be processed to prevent regeneration, it spat out what remained of its victim, which consisted of a skull, tusks, and bits and pieces of metal. Amid the remains, there was also a fist-sized, shattered Core. "Cao!" Anita gagged, as did Eunae and Mayuree. Jiro set the remains of both berserker alight, just in case. "We should keep moving," the priestess advised before checking on Urqu's wounds. "I am hale." Urqu had returned to his human form. "Just a bit sore from the itching." "Nice work." Tica nodded at Eunae, who nodded back. Even in the midst of combat, Fudan's healer had removed the spear, detoxified the wound, and mended the flyer's mangled flesh. "We should make some distance. Coca can cover our tracks, but we won't be able to rest until they give up the chase. Don't expect to sleep tonight." "That may not be true." Richard re-materialised Lea at his side. "Don't forget, we've got Gwen's Portable Habitat. We can place the entrance anywhere, even in mid-air." "… Alright." Tica's sternness softened. She had indeed forgotten about the wondrous shelter. "For now, let's move to an intact part of the understory. It'll be much easier to hide the entrance." As one, the party moved on. As they flew over the newly formed abyss, they had a good gander at the infamous forest floor. Where Jiro's flames had continued to burn, a colossal swarth of smouldering refuse had carved out an enormous opening, forming a passageway between the layers. "That's going to attract attention." Jiro doused his flames. "Yes, because fighting off a patrol of frothing berserkers isn't enough commotion," Richard joked as he scanned the darkness. Now that the fire was gone, it was impossible to tell where their fallen assailants may be lurking. "Mia?" "I've got nothing," Mayuree apologised. "Detect Magic and Detect Foe don't work well here. I could send an Arcane Eye downward to confirm…" "No, we have to go." Tica began to move. "Trust me; you don't want to be in Amazonia when it gets completely dark. There are far worse things than trolls here." "Hey, that's good news." Richard rebuked her worries. "Do they eat trolls?" After another hour of Diviner-assisted steering in the right direction, the team carefully set up their Portable Habitat some ten-meters up between the arch of two fallen logs. As additional insurance, Cuzco's vice-captain conjured a discrete layer of moss and a carpet of Sundews in all directions to serve as an early warning system and as camouflage. "Come on in." Richard issued the entry Glyph. "Welcome to Gwen's secret abode." When Tica and her team entered the grey-space of the pocket-realm, they marvelled at the intricacy of the habitat and its internal power supply. "We should upscale trade with the northerners," Tica said. "A device like this will make expeditions so much easier." "There are hot showers too." Richard smiled. "And a working kitchen." After the tour, Richard made a sumptuous dinner of piping hot ramen rations and all-you-can-eat SPAM. Relaxing showers followed, concluding with room allocations. Anita, Eunae and Mayuree ended up taking the master bedroom, Tica and Sumatika in the guest, while the five men chose to use sleep on spare futons in the living room. "Good thing Tupaq isn't here," Urqu, who had grown friendly with Fudan's Mages, remarked thankfully. "That guy, he snores like an Amazonian hippo!" Their first day in the Amazon had been an eye-opener in many ways. Unfortunately, tomorrow and tomorrow and so on, they would have deeper depths to plumb. "You're doing this now?" Auberon Lucas stood in the slight drizzle, watching Fudan's Enchantress mark the fort's courtyard. "Really?" "Sir." Auberon's assistant, Lucy, gently coughed. "Please refrain from granting unsolicited advice." Inti and his crew likewise stood around the magic circle, watching the spectacle. "Inti, I don't have a good feeling about this." Tupaq made sure to always position himself between Inti and whatever curio he investigated. "Not to fear, it's a Planar Ally Mandala," Inti remarked. "An expensive one too." "Why now?" Tupaq furrowed his bushy brows distrustingly. "Why not? Better now than never!" Gwen explained. "We can't be doing this if trolls are hammering at our shields." From the Explorer teams' departure date, two days had since passed. Every evening, their chief proctor had informed the Dungeoneers of the Explorers' progress. So far, their peers had encountered everything from trolls to sentient mushrooms to a plucky Displacer Jaguar but were otherwise safe and sound. Then, on the morning of the third day, Auberon had received a most unusual Message, one slated for a contestant. "Inform Gwen Song of Fudan University that the registrar now recognises the individual 'Golos'." When the Message had been read out, the girl's answer was an ear-piercing "Hurrah!" followed by cries of jubilation and "Petra! It's happening! Get your Glyph tools!" An hour later, half the fort had emptied out to see what the girls were doing. Auberon and a few proctors stood to one side; Inti and his crew stood across. The resident Incan Mages, as well as the base's commander, occupied the final quadrant. "Done!" Petra stepped back from the Mandala, having shown her cousin the process. "Gwen, assuming your pet is in Burma. You're going to need a mountain of Crystals." "He'll be right." The haughty sorceress entered the summoning circle, then made a gesture akin to tossing a bocce ball. "He's coming through the Elemental Plane of Lightning, so it shouldn' t be too taxing." "Okay, but I hope you provisioned enough crystals," Petra explained, producing a data slate and a pen. "Also, don't proceed too fast. I need numbers." Auberon's brows twitched. _Are the two of you at Conjure Ally 3101 and not the IIUC?_ He wanted to ask. In the next moment, a crate of processed HDMs bundled as a 1000 HDM unit appeared at the circle's centre, making Auberon's heart skip a beat. _Thunk!_ Another crate. _Thunk!_ Another. Even Inti tightened his fists. "Enough?" Gwen turned to Petra. Petra shrugged. _Thunk!_ The girls' audience stared breathlessly while four crates of HDMs thrummed with captive mana. Four thousand HDMs was no paltry sum. It was enough for a talented Magus to train for a year and a mundane Mage could retire on the same amount. "Alright," their summoner clapped her hands, suddenly transformed into a ringmaster. "Everyone, please step behind the outer line Petra has drawn for your safety! For the duration of our Amazonian adventure, I'd like to introduce our temporary member, Golos! He's spiky, he's hotheaded, he's got a hankering for fish, and he's a big softie." Petra almost choked at the last part. If anything, Golos was a murder machine on wings. Gwen began her chant. Tei, Lulan and Rene obediently stepped behind the line. Some of them had seen Golos; as for those had not, what they had heard wasn't good news. Inti's party began to self-buff. The circle glowed, the HDMs flared, feeding into the Mandala. The rare ingredients used to inscribe the circle burst into motes of retina-searing arcanistry, tearing apart space and time, opening a gate into the Quasi-Elemental Plane of Lightning. "GOLOS!" Gwen's trilling voice filled the ozone-rich atmosphere as a brilliant bolt of lightning, thicker than an Acacia, struck the circle's centre. "COME FORTH! PLANAR ALLY!"

Gwen had good reasons for conjuring Golos. Firstly, the Wyvern was no regular Planar Ally, but a true-to-life corporeal being with a Core, capable of sustaining himself indefinitely. Secondly, Golos was bound by his oath to Ruxin and just as beholden to Ayxin, so she had significant leverage over the unruly creature. Thirdly, since Fudan had chosen cooperative play, there was no reason why she shouldn't abuse every resource. Golos, therefore, embodied great profit, moderate cost, and a median magnitude of risk. Then there was a fourth reason. Amazonia didn't appear, at least near its edge, to possess a dragon-host. In consulting with Inti and his peers for the last three days, she had grasped that the Incan variation of a dragon was akin to something of a chimaera, with the head of a llama, the maw of a puma, condor wings, snake's body, and a fish's tail. In a way, it was similar to a Kirin, though unlike the meddling Chinese dragons, "Amaru the Dragon" had more in common with Almudj in that it seldom if ever manifested. According to Tica, the rainforest had a clear hierarchy with well-defined territories. Predatory birds and Harpy flocks occupied the emergent layer; simians, the canopy; fungi and lesser life forms in the dark zone of the understory; and finally, trolls and stranger megafauna occupied the forest floor. The apex predator that defied these boundaries was the Amazonian Jaguar; a creature sleek, midnight black and perpetually hungry, possessed of two or more puckering tentacles. Such a creature, Tica explained, was king whether across the arboreal realm, the forest floor, or the waters of the Amazon river. Comparatively, Dragons, as a whole, were predators above the ecological pyramid. If so, what happens when a semi-trailer sized Thunder Wyvern was introduced? After all, in Huangshan, she had seen Magical Beasts lying down like carps on a chopping board. The potential gains made her giddy. "PLANAR ALLY!" She finished her chant with a flourish, conjured a bolt from the blue, then waited for the Glyphs to cool. The living lightning solidified. Her audience marvelled, gasped, opened their mouths in abject awe. A smile touched Gwen's lips. She felt a surge of satisfaction, mingling with the lightning massaging her conduits. Golos' armoured eyelids slid open, pulling back both membranes. The brute was magnificent as always, like a maned lion overlooking a herd of gazelles. "What needs killing?" The Wyvern yawned, tired after the long transit. Its gaze swept the perimeter and spotted the Peruvians. "Those?" "Back, foul beast!" Tupaq stood in front of his future sovereign. A split-second later, he was the size of a troll and sporting the head of a magnificent golden puma. Golos' nostrils flared. "Eugh, musky. I prefer those females behind you." The girls behind Inti readied their spells. "Don't be a dick, Golos," Gwen intervened, then introduced each of their observers. "Those are our allies, that's our proctors for the IIUC, there's my team, and those are civilians. Okay? NO EATING FRIENDS!" Golos reared its serpent's head, a few feathered plumes, inherited from his father, glistened with a rainbow hue. Without opening his mouth, the Wyvern was a majestic thing. "Where in Huangshan am I?" "Amazonia!" Gwen clapped both hands, snapping him to attention. "Isn't it exciting, Golos? You're in South America!" "Are we near Shanghai?" Golos crackled with lightning. "I sense lots of life, all strange. And those people, they smell strange." Gwen furrowed her brows. "Golos, do you know where America is?" Golos snorted. "It's across the ocean." "And?" "Near Japan." Golo rolled a reptilian eye. "Strewth, you poor thing..." Gwen patted the Wyvern on the knees, watching the electricity arc from his blue-white scales to her fingers, eliciting additional gasps from her disbelieving audience. Golos spotted Lulan and Petra in the audience. "You, I know you." Lulan waved back uncertainly. "Both of you smell like Naga." The Wyvern sniffed. "From Brother?" "Whoa! WHOA!" Gwen raised both arms. "That's privileged information, dummy. Tell you what, you look hungry. We'll agree to a few ground rules, and then I'll undo the circle so you can explore. There's much to show you, and most importantly, tons to eat." "Good." Golos snapped its jaws a few times, dislodging globs of thick saliva. "I think you'll like it here." Gwen grinned at the Wyvern. "Now, for the quest ahead, we're competing…" "Eat now, talk later." Golos' nostrils flared, forming two white-hot furnaces. "Hungry." "… fine." Gwen struck Golos in the ribs, then turned to her teammates and her proctors. "Sir Lucas, Inti, everyone, if you would excuse me, I need to take Gogo for a walk." "Gogo—" Golos protested. "Where are you going?" Auberon appeared to be wrangling a massive migraine. Gwen pointed to the Amazon. "A walk in the park?" Gwen smirked. "Miss Gwen?" Inti raised his voice. "Yes, Inti?" "May we observe our new ally?" "Golos?" Gwen wasn't sure if her Wyvern was the sort to enjoy a meal in private or in public. "If they keep out of my way," Golos grumbled. "Undo the circle. Also, what is Gogo?" "We'll corral the beasts for you, Sir Golos." Inti far too quickly accepted his new reality. "Tupaq here is an excellent hunter. You shall have no want of prey!" "Lord Inti!" the three girls behind him were aghast. "No!" Golos snorted lightning. "I like this one." He gave Gwen the evil eye. "Why can't you behave like this?" "Why can't you be like Ariel?" Gwen fired back. "HMMPH!" Golos nudged Gwen with its flank so that she stumbled. Gwen knew that Golos felt confused by Ariel. Strictly speaking, Kirins were many rungs above wyverns in the draconic-pecking order, not to mention Gwen's Familiar possessed the essence of a primordial being. "Anyway, no funny business. Alright? I am going to let you out now. Petra?" "Go ahead." Petra made the sign for "okay". Gwen made a quick invocation, watching as the glow from the Glyphs faded. When Golos left the circle, he noticed a crate of HDMs which had yet to be drained. "Ooo, is this for me?" Before Gwen could protest, the crate disappeared. "YOU have a Storage Ring?" Gwen furrowed her brows. "Why?" "Ruxin wants souvenirs." Golos stretched out his wings. From tip to tip, its arms exceeded twenty-meters. "Is our newest member safe to be around?" Rene recalled being informed about Golos. "Let's stay away for now," Petra offered sagely. "At least until it's fed." Auberon and the other proctor exchanged looks of consternation. "Sir." Lucy trembled as the Wyvern's depthless, slitted eyes registered all the food it could potentially eat. "Is this… cheating?" "Inti, what are we going to do?" After watching Gwen's "Gogo" hunt, Inti cooly meditated over the new revelations of Fudan's potential. Unfortunately, his peers possessed nothing of his level-headedness. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "Do what, exactly?" Inti faced the three girls, each young, talented and a potential future concubine. All three were from the Shuar, an essential political and geographical ally of the Empire. Misi was a shapeshifter; Kusi was a Soul Priestess; behind the two look-alike girls, Mallqu, whose name meant little bird, was a Spirit Shaman. "What are you going to do about that monstrosity?" Misi snarled, attracting a discouraging look from Tupaq. "Peace, sister," Kusi stifled Musi's upset. "Inti, what do you make of this Chinese Amaru?" "He's a Thunder Wyvern, actually." Inti remained in his meditative pose. "Her Kirin is closer to Amaru. Nonetheless, it's a beautiful brute, did you see how its scales caught the light? Gwen's a gifted girl, that's for sure." "Waters of Titicaca!" Misi boiled over. "Don't you want to win?" "Win?" Inti sighed. Even discouraged, the prince's aura was overwhelming. "We're here to recover relics of our people. That's a win." "Your people." "OUR people," Inti reiterated the collective pronoun. "The Shuar are as much a fabric of the Empire as I. How else could the Shuar's unique craft be accepted by the powers that be? You know how the outsiders treat Necromancy. The Shuar—" "A label with no meaning." Kusi shook her head. "Inti, you should know better." "Cuzco, the Inca, and the Shuar cannot survive alone." Inti's words flowed like golden honey. "How many years have your people fought the trolls? How many settlements are do you have left in Amazonia?" "Are you mocking us?" Misi snarled like a jaguar. "If Tica were here, she'd give you a tongue-lashing." "That was not my intention, my apologies." Inti raised both hands in an offer of peace. He grinned handsomely, a harmless, affable prince of the Inca. "As I said, we're in this together. Mallqu, do you have anything to add?" The quiet girl shook her head. She appeared younger than the caramel-complexioned tribeswomen, with a face far more delicate than the headstrong Misi and paler than the soft-lipped Kusi. "Then let's not worry about our wyvern-shaped boon." Inti gestured to the coiled monster out in the courtyard. "Fudan will repel the trolls, as will we. With a bit of luck, I dare say we can cleanse the ruined city entirely." "That brute is going to destroy everything." "No matter." Inti shrugged. "The relics are sealed in the old vaults. The upper city is a ruin for a reason, you know. In all likelihood, it's a troll fort by now." The three girls stood while Inti returned to his meditation, one frustrated, one anxious, and one possessed of no particular emotion. "Get some rest." Inti's soothing voice floated through the air. "I suspect Tica will be back soon." Amazonia. The lost Antis region. By the account of early Incan explorers, the Amazon river was once a nameless serpent that spanned the horizons. Upon its death, its body then transformed into the great river, with its bones, flesh and guts becoming the river's life forms. It was a good story, one that everyone in Cuzco knew. Tica Chuquipoma-Yupanqui, however, did not take heed of this outlandish, outdated tale. According to her Master, Amaru, much of the mythos that surrounded Incan lore had been debunked by Spellcraft and western natural philosophy. The Apu, for example, were Magical Beasts. Amaru "turning in its sleep" was merely tectonic plates shaking the Andes. "Inti's birth and rebirth" likewise, was a solar eclipse. When she considered that the Aztecan Theocracy continued to sacrifice virgins to bring back the sun, she couldn't help but be cynical. "According to the map, we can now follow the tributary upstream until we find the temple, or at least where 'three rivers meet'." Richard, her counterpart, studied the glistening river. The last few days had been a trial in itself, involving trolls, jaguars and walking mushrooms that erupted into an ocean of spores when they died. Were it not for Eunae picking up the slack; the contestants may have already sent a team member home to Cuzco. By day four, both groups agreed that finding the river and back-tracking was more accessible than discovering tributaries smothered by overgrown greenery. At the very least, Magical Creatures that lived in the river kept to the water, affording the flying Mages more leeway compared to an overland trek. SPLASH! An Undine emerged from the scintillating water, ensorceling a human-sized fish with a silvery body and blood-red fins. "This thing was lurking below us." the humanoid-elemental tossed the fish from side to side. "That looks good for eating." Richard studied the trashing river-monster, chomping at the air with its dagger-teeth. "What is it?" "A Pirarucu." Tica recognised the scarlet fins. "Red Fish." "Tonight, we feast on Pirarucu steaks," Richard declared. The others cheered half-heartedly. They were all exhausted by the humidity and the unceasing combat. Nodding, Tica materialised her Sundew Familiar on the palm of her hand. "How is it upstream?" "…" the Sundew wiggled its tentacles. "That many? How far's the inlet?" "…" Coca contracted and expanded. "Can we go around?" "…" The tentacles performed an Aztecan Wave. "I see." "What's the matter?" Richard washed his hands. The Pirarucu couldn't be stowed in the Storage Ring while it was alive, so he and Anita had just performed culinary fish-surgery. "Troll encampment barring our way, a big one. Twenty-thirty individuals at least." Tica chewed her lower-lips. "We can't bypass them without pushing into the canopy. If we detour, the combat will alert them anyway." "Any Shamans?" "Likely. Urqu can check from a distance." "I need specifics to make a judgement. Mayuree?" "Out of her range." Tica shook her head. "The trolls will scent you before you're close enough." "Scent?" Mayuree sniffed her dirt-covered hands. "Body odour, shampoo, your perfume…" Tica's counsel made the Diviner's skin crawl. "Troll Hunters, the thin ones with the long limbs, they have hyper-sensitive olfactory organs." Richard considered their options. "Hmm." He materialised a still-bleeding fish head. "What if a person's covered in this?" Mayuree gawked at the lifeless eyes in horror. "You can wear it like a helmet," Richard explained. "Wear the carcass like a coat..." Their Diviner began to gag. "Wait," Tica urged him to pack the fishhead. "We don't need the fish. I can cover us with Coca." Mayuree breathed out. "Okay, but let's test the theory first," Richard said. "I'll go with them. If nothing else, I can D-D Mia in a jiffy." "Fine," Tica conjured a handful of Coca clones in her hand. "Put these on, and I'll do the rest." An hour later, Mayuree, Richard and Urqu returned. "Right." Richard tapped the map of the region their Diviner had scouted, perfectly happy with the wiggling Sundew sitting atop his head. "Here's the plan…" The village which the party's scouts had observed was a settlement carved into the riverside, a primitive affair consisting of thick logs staked together to form a circular fence. The troll-home was a gathering outpost for fish, for they saw evidence of a drying rack, netting, as well as dozens of carcasses stacked in a pile, awaiting butchery beside a smokehouse. "About ten warriors, two shabby-looking shamans, and the rest look like labourers," Richard said. "At least I think they're labourers. They have no tusks. What does that mean?" "Likely youngsters, that or de-fanged slaves captured from other tribes," Tica returned. "To become a warrior; an adult troll has to survive in the jungle alone, the trophies they bring back as proof of their prowess determine the pecking order." "Teenage trolls?" Richard scoffed, shaking his head in wonder. "Eh, they burn all the same." The team again looked over Richard's plan. On the map, several Xs marked the spot. These, Richard had explained, offered the best vantage to enable a raging, all-consuming forest fire. Thanks to Urqu, they could control the wind, and with Jiro and Qari, they could control the blaze. Together, they would herd the trolls into a narrow channel conveniently devoid of flames. Then, within this short corridor of safety, Tica would entangle the lot of them, simultaneously unleashing Coca. Richard and Sumatika would play control, keeping the trolls penned. As for insurance, Tica would use faith-magic to bestow a round of raw radiance upon their hapless victims. "Speed is key." Richard traced the Walls of Fire with his fingers. "Don't hold back on mana. Anyone need potions?" The group shook their head. "Good." Richard stood. "Good hunting." Tica wetted her lips, already imagining the Inca's wrath falling on the savages. That, and the CCs she would gain for Cuzco. With the newly risen sun, Golos scampered up the cliffside, dislodging chunks of stone and vegetation that had grown out over the centuries. Once back at the fort, the Wyvern found a grassy knoll, then rolled over as though he owned the place. "... those long-nosed pigs are as good as Ryxi's fish." "Oh, there'll be plenty of fish as well." Gwen found a place to sit beside the big beast. "I heard there are catfish in there half your size." "Burp!" Golos belched. "The snake was much meatier than I thought. I thought of Ryxi screaming for help while I ate it, hee hee hee…" "See how good you have it, Golos?" Gwen pressed the Wyvern while he remained satiated. "In serving me, you'll have no want for crystals, for meat, or whatever." "Serve you?!" Golos moved his neck so that he was snout to face with the girl. "ERGH, your breath!" Gwen gagged; assaulted by a redolence akin to concentrated cat-breath. "Hoooo!" Golos laughed childishly, then huffed in her face, glob and all. Gwen Dimensioned Doored away, holding back a Chakram. Her draconic-constitution had given her finely-tuned senses, ones which she now deeply loathed. Golos continued his deep-throated laughter. "Bloody hell. Stay here and don't wander off." Gwen realised she had to change immediately or at least activate a laundry cantrip. "When you're done digesting, come find me in your human form. I'll introduce—" The Wyvern snubbed her, turning away disinterestedly. It then coiled its semi-trailer body like a cat's, facing the sun to warm its scales. Gwen stomped her feet in frustration. The bloody thing was begging for a Caliban in the arse. "Inti, you're not going to believe this," Musi interrupted Inti's morning rites. "Fudan's sorceress has gone mad." Quickly, Inti exited the guard's room. There, in the central courtyard, he saw her. The spectacle he witnessed was shocking enough to warrant a hasty sign of the sun across his chest. He then moved closer, drawn by morbid curiosity. "What in Titicaca's name is she doing?" Kusi held her lips with her fingers. "Void madness?" Inti offered a suggestion. From Amaru, he had heard that those who dabble in the Void tended to be a little uneasy in the head. Still, he had never thought to witness such an unbalanced display in public, much less in the middle of the IIUC. Currently, in front of Inti, watched by the proctors and others, Gwen Song dug through a pile of offensive wyvern excrement the height of her waist. Not far, holding their nose and observing with expressionless faces, her teammates formed a protective perimeter, shielding Gwen from anyone who may, as it were, compete with her for the pile. Feeling a rare revulsion coming on, Inti scanned the fort for signs of the Wyvern. He soon spotted a hulk taller than even Tupaq, with a head of blue-silver and a ridged face only somewhat human. It didn't take a Spirit Shaman to guess that this was Golos in his poorly construed human-form, a realisation that filled his heart with yet more ambivalence. "EUREKA!" came a triumphant cry from Fudan's principle sorceress. "YOU BLOODY RIPPER!" Inti fought down a gulp of bile. Did she mean the Wyvern had blood in its stool? Was she a specialist Conjurer with a degree in veterinary care? He had heard of such Mages overseas, and the Temple too possessed virgins who could care for Magical Beasts. A glint caught his eyes. Gwen Song held a Creature Core aloft. From its appearance, Inti knew that it belonged to a Titan Boa- an elder-specimen. "What…" he mouthed, accidentally swallowing the fetid air. Besides him, Tupaq and the three girls who had joined him gagged. Across the pile, the proctors stared hard. A tier-5 or 6 Titan Boa Core wasn't rare, but it was a good thousand or more HDMs. And now, Gwen Song had found one in a pile of shit. _Was that why the girl spent HDMs like water?_ Inti couldn't help but feel his economic acumen was being challenged. Where others dug crystals from the ground, she found thousands of HDMs by stomping through turds? "I knew it!" The girl pulled her long limbs away from the offensive material, then quickly activated a laundry spell-device, soaking her suit and dispelling the sludge. In her other hand, she held three-more smaller Cores. With great joy, she skipped toward the suddenly apprehensive Wyvern. "Gogo!" she moved to hug him. "You magnificent draconic bastard!"

Gwen now possessed such anticipation for the Amazon that her excitement was enough to displace the reek of excrement. It had all begun the morning after Golos' foray into the jungle. Taking her morning jog, she came across what could only be the largest, foulest pile of draconic expulsion she had ever seen. The reality that dragons could "poop" was proven by Caliban, but of course, for creatures like Ruxin and the Yinglong, it was absurd to imagine them squatting over a litter box, roaring with effort. It was only Golos, still a few centuries from maturity, that obsessed with eating and rutting. Nonetheless, Gwen had never seen journals or articles written on draconic-expulsions. Somewhere, a post-grad Magus could pursue a Magistership if they knew what she knew. The whole ordeal began the night before. True to Gwen's demands, Golos had transformed, then introduced himself as their new leader. Almost without pause, he asked Petra if she would like to rut. Petra politely declined and suggested maybe Gwen could sample the goods. Golos then thoughtfully enquired if she would like to rut, and Gwen returned that Caliban was desperate for a Wyvern form. Golos remained undeterred. A wyvern's gotta eat; he explained — a wyvern's gotta rut. "A Wyvern's gotta shit?" she had replied sarcastically. And here was her answer. A turd-consuming Void Sphere was halfway vocalised when she spotted a glint. Her nose wrinkled. A Creature Core? Holding her breath, doubting her eyes, she approached the pile. The previous day, Golos had eaten until he was sick. There had been tapir-like boars, monkeys with three tails, boar-sized frogs with translucent bellies, and an unlucky Titan Boa. All of which slid down Golos' gullet without complaint. Dragons, Gwen recalled the lesson from Ruxin, were beings that grew stronger by drawing nourishment from their hunt. When consuming other creatures, a dragon "fed" on their Essence as well. Concurrently, she thought of the Kirin Amulet and how it absorbed Essence from slain beasts into its Core. Perhaps, she realised, this was the real reason for the Amulet's abilities. Mysticisms aside, it came down to unadulterated, draconic mechanics. As for Gogo, her test subject was a mere Wyvern, but one she was willing to risk. Could Golos mass-generate Cores gastronomically? Though she had no dire need for HDMs, Cores were almost always in short supply. There were many Enchanters, but never enough ingredients for experimentation. Full of hope, she dug into the pile, ferreting for treasure. Her Detect Magic, honed and trained after a semester of Divination Utility 101, cried out that this wasn't what it was designed to do. _THERE!_ Her heart sang as her nose died. Golos' poo was obstinate, but she was strong! _It's a durian_ , she told herself. _I am splitting a durian._ "EUREKA!" She raised the scintillating orb to the light. _I have to thank Ruxin,_ Gwen reminded herself, maybe shout the dragon dinner. Golos was the best summon a girl could want. A Planar Ally that paid for itself. _Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!_ The team's jubilation was short-lived. Inbetween a dream involving Gogo-golden-durians, simultaneous activations of Fudan's Message bangles shook Gwen and her companions from the lull of slumber. "Mia?" Gwen punched the Glyph, half dazed. "You're back?" "WE'RE COMING IN HOT!" Richard's voice filled the darkness, a moment before Rene lit the room with a pair of Dancing Lights. "Ten minutes! We're ten-Ks out!" "Are you safe—" _DANG! DANG! DANG! DANG!_ The sound of alarm bells ringing through the fort brought the outpost into full-alert. "Get ready!" Richard's voice came through. "We brought a shit load of Harpies! They're all CCs!" "Got it." Gwen leapt from the bed. She pulled the combat suit over her intimates, then parted the privacy curtain. Unlike her previous skin-suit, Shen-tei's transformative function saved her the trouble of wriggling into a shed skin. She activated her Message again. "Everyone, get that?" "Outside already," Tei's voice returned. "I'll go set up the defences." "Give me one minute." Rene's muffled voice came from the adjacent bed. The Magma Mage was a heavy sleeper. "Lulan and I will go with Tei." Petra's Message indicated she was already outside as well. "Inti and his team just arrived." With a sound of hissing air, the suit's material adhered. She spent a second stretching out the kinks, then Dimension Doored outside. "GOLOS!" she cried out into the darkness. "Here." Golos yawned, leaning against the fort's battlement. "There's a buffet of CCs incoming," Gwen informed him. "Never ate a Harpy before." Golos affected a toothy grin. "Help yourself." Gwen conjured both Ariel and Caliban with a thought. "Watch out for friendlies." Golos grunted. Another Dimension Door later, Gwen arrived at the eastern battlements. In the typical Incan fashion, the observation post at Marcapata was formed of shaped stones staggered so that they slotted seamlessly. The design was highly resistant against impact and earthquakes. Here and there, Glyphs were carved in gold, bolstering the fort's magical defences. "I see the flock now." Gwen's night-vision was near-supernatural. "Bloody hell, that's a biblical volume of Harpies." Ding! "Can you see us?" Richard's voice came through. "Jiro's almost out of mana, look for the Fireball!" In the bible-black night, a brilliant flash of orange caught the contestant's eyes. "I see you." Gwen squinted, channelling Almudj's Essence into her orbs. "The Message device registered only seven of you…" "The others are hopefully back in Cuzco." Her cousin's voice took on a hard edge. "It wasn't easy breaking through the canopy and outrunning the birds. Don't worry. There wasn't any foul play." Gwen glanced at Inti's group, noting their grim expressions. From the faint glow at Inti's ear, he was likely conversing with Tica. Before she could withdraw her gaze, Inti caught her watching. "Miss Song." Inti pointed to the flock in the distance, a roving mass of indistinct shadows. "I am going to open with a wide-area AoE. Unfortunately, I do not possess the ability to differentiate friend from foe, can you tell your team to retreat?" Gwen frowned. "Why risk striking our allies? We can do it together. All of our AoEs possess IFF." Inti cranked up his aura. "My spell works best if the enemy is densely clustered. The opportunity will soon be lost, so please tell your team to retreat. We shall share the CCs, I assure you." Before she could dissuade the prince, Inti rose into the air. Sensing a stubborn parallel between Inti and Golos, Gwen opened a channel to Richard. "Dick, you and the others need to get moving." "Wall of Water!" Richard stabbed himself with an injector, wincing as his VMI shot to a tenth of its usual maximum. "Lea! Left side!" "Coca!" Tica followed suit, blasting the flock with massive webs dozens of meters across. Her spell was efficient and useful, but the Harpies had since caught on. This time, the birds had their rainbow-plumed priestesses in tow, considerably boosting the flock's overall prowess. "We need to move." "Pack them tighter!" Richard commanded. "Jiro!" "FLAMING TEMPEST!" Jiro had reached his alchemical limit fifty-kilometres ago and was now running on fumes. He covered their flanks, driving the pursuers closer, then stumbled as his movements momentarily faltered. "I got him." Mayuree burned another Magic Item, blasting forward with Jiro in tow. She had spared no expense since the parties had escaped the temple ruins via the Harpies' tree-top lairs. "Sanctuary!" Eunae relieved the Harpies' attention on their Fire Mage. "Watch out! Shield of—" _THUAWK!_ A blade of air, razor-sharp and ten-meters tall, split Richard's cascading Wall of Water in twain. It continued to travel, forcing Richard to sharply bank. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. "Fuck!" Richard cursed. His left leg felt suddenly hot and cold. The combat suit had helped, but the light plating wasn't able to negate the entirety of the Wind Blade's damage, leaving him with a gash that stretched from calf to thigh. "Eunae!" "Healing Word!" Eunae deftly switched from Shield of Faith to a minor invocation that could be used mid-flight. "Incoming!" Richard cursed. He was almost OoM. The team's other defenders had already done their jobs. Uturunku had been the first to go, being the least capable and the slowest flier of the group. Rather than hindering the party's escape, he had chosen instead to delay the Harpies' advance. After that, it had been Anita's turn. As a Mineral Abjurer-Transmuter, she possessed the second slowest flight-speed. About a hundred kilometres later, Sumatika offered herself, though the Water Mage halted the flock only momentarily before she was swamped by Harpies clawing at her flesh. Now, it was his turn to corral their CCs. "GO!" He stopped. "Lea, keep them off me. Thirty seconds!" "Richard!" his teammates cried out. "An AoE is coming!" "GO NOW!" The Water Mage's face turned cruel. From his ring, he withdrew a rod of pyrite. Ever since Seoul, he had paid close attention to potential applications of Cloud Kill. The Harpies swooped, their screeching voices filled his ears. His spell would take six-seconds to manifest, and another ten to reach maximum range. He intended to hold them for a minute, but if the demi-human casters intervened, he had no idea if he could last that long. Faced with a roving, endless tide of flapping wings, Richard felt as though he was reliving the Beast Tide of 71. _ZWING!_ Came the sound of a fast-moving metal object. "SQAR—" A Harpy that had careless clawed at him exploded into a puff of dark feathers. The slab of shaped iron continued onward, its momentum unimpeded, skewering, smashing and maiming six-more creatures before it tumbled into the forest below. _ZWING! ZWING! ZWING! ZWING!_ Four more volleys followed, clearing the space around Richard. Lulu! Richard applauded the girl. Gwen had picked a real gem. _DING!_ "DICK! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL IN THE BAIT BALL?" Gwen's voice barked beside his ear. Richard scoffed. How massive could this AoE be? But, his vice-captain's orders needed following. He stowed his bar of pyrite, then shot downward toward the safety of the canopy below. Behind him, the night sky grew suddenly bright. Where Richard had been, the Quasi-Elemental Plane of Radiance gave birth to a star. An incandescent ball every bit as brilliant as the celestial orb that brought life to the clay of terra lit the darkness with the collated faith of the Inca. The Harpies closest to the orb melted like wax, their feathers suddenly alight; the fat of their goose-skin sizzling to a crisp as their eyes boiled in their sockets. Richard too felt a numbing sensation across his posterior and his scalp. He smelled the sizzling of flesh and the acrid scent of hair set aflame. Lea evaporated with a wail, retreating into his pocket dimension. He began to fall. "Bugger." Richard puckered his lips thoughtfully. Assuming he didn't die immediately, Gwen would have to buy him a new Contingency Ring. "Dick!" A burst of silvery Conjuration heralded the arrival of his timely saviour. Gwen caught him by the arm, then slung her cousin across her shoulder with ease. Where her fingers swiped his neck, a sheet of foaming material and scalded skin slid apart. "Three stars for elemental resistance," Richard joked. "I'll let Yeye know." Gwen activated a Spell Cube with one hand while her semi-dome Shield sizzled. "Hold on." A series of gut-churning Dimension Doors later, they were back on Condor's Rise. "Richard!" "Dick!" "Wocao! You look like a baked goose!" "See…" Richard pointed at the glowing sun in dismay, his heart throbbing with agony. Below its brilliance, Harpies were falling like flies. The team shielded their eyes. "See what, Richard?" Gwen felt for his pulse. She then uncorked a bottle of Maotai and fed her cousin a mouthful. "CCs!" Richard spat, his eyes watered. "Our CCs!" The rest of the team breathed out. If Richard was crying over Contribution Credits, then he should be fine. Behind them, Mayuree, Eunae, Tica and the rest were now landing. Like Fudan, Cuzco's team immediately surrounded their Mages, with the quiet girl, Mallqu, delivering a few healing spells of her own. Gwen greeted her team members with open arms, heedless of their bloody attire and pungent aroma. "You've worked hard." She hugged Mayuree tightly, then held Mia's head against her chest. "We did it." Mayuree was keen to report on their success. "We…" "Later." Gwen released the girl, then embraced Eunae. "Eunnie, thanks." Jiro waited in line. Gwen struck out a hand. Jiro's shoulders fell. "Just kidding, ya goof." Gwen pulled the young man close, then gave him a big bear-hug, lifting him from the ground. "Good work! Thanks for taking care of them." Jiro retreated, pushing his bones back in place. "Poor Anita." Gwen sighed after Eunae told them about the three contestants who chose to impede the flock. "I'll reward her later. A custom Boots of Flying that can raise her maxim speed perhaps, or a handful of Cores." After Gwen, Tei debriefed the Explorers to clarify the situation in case tension with Cuzco rose unnecessarily. "Where's Gogo?" Gwen realised her Wyvern was gone. "He said something about barbecued quail," Petra informed her. "Ah, the Harpy flock is dispersing." "EE?" Ariel complained. "SHAA?!" Caliban salivated. "I'll go find Golos." Gwen patted her Familiars. She was sure that they would remain dissatisfied and antsy until they spent their pent-up energy. Additionally, she was interested in what Golos could "retrieve". In the distance, the artificial sun had dissolved. Over the horizon, the real sun rose, painting the thin black silhouette a blush of orange. As for the forest below, the trees had turned to charcoal. Where stumps remained, a hellish wasteland full of smouldering Harpies quavered. "Go, we'll take care of Richard." Tei patted her on the shoulder. "Right." Gwen spotted something ponderously sifting through the smoking trees. "I'll D-D over." "Gwen, wait—" Rene pointed to Cuzco's team. "What do you make of that?" Curiously, Auberon and three additional proctors were now escorting Musi, Kusi and Mallqu toward the epicentre. Inti remained with the exhausted Tica, listening to her tale. "I'll come with." Petra stood. "Alright, let go." Gwen took her cousin's hand, then made up the distance with teleports. Upon arriving at ground zero, they were surprised to find that many of the Harpies were still alive. "SHAA SHAA!" Caliban nudged a smoking pile of feathers, dissatisfied that its prey wasn't screaming for help. "EE!" Ariel wasn't opposed to grilled wings, though it preferred victims who weren't entirely helpless. How curious, Gwen made a mental note. Neither of her Familiars fancied themselves scavengers. Was it draconic-pride? She wondered, or something to do with their growing sapience. Downwind of the foetid air, she spotted Golos dragging still-kicking Harpies from the branches, crunching them in his jaws. Gwen twisted her lips in mockery. A few minutes later, the proctors arrived with their wards. The group alighted where the cluster of Harpies was the densest. "Miss Huamani-Inka, you may begin." Gwen noticed that Auberon's stone-cold attitude was leagues from when he had dealt with her. Before she could judge the Baron of Shenfield for being biased, however, Kusi retrieved a leather orb from her storage. Petra audibly gasped. "Is that a human head?" Gwen asked her cousin very quietly. "Yes," Petra confirmed. "A baby's?" "No." Petra observed the goosebumps that had risen all over her arm. "It's a shrunken head." "What does that mean?" A revulsion came over Gwen which she hadn't experienced since Mark Chandler kicked at her diaphragm. She knew about shrunken heads, but not whatever this was. "Magically speaking?" "I think they remove the skull, then stitch it back together." Petra kept her cool far more readily than her cousin. "You can see how well it's embalmed." Across the field, heedless of the two girls from Fudan, Kusi began her ritual by raising the mummified head like a lantern. Stamping her feet, she began to speak in the tongue of the Shuar, a lingua franca beyond Gwen's means to comprehend. Behind the dark-haired Shaman girl, the quiet Mallqu invoked some unknowable sorcery of her own, shuddering as a palpable source of vitality left her body. Gwen swallowed, at a loss for words. She and Petra stood as though petrified, gaping at the open practice of that which must not be named. "Help!" an enfeebled cry broke Gwen's stupor. She searched her perimeter and discovered a Harpy covered in burns, its once colourful feathers crudely begrimed. It was a Sky Priestess, Gwen recollected. In Ma's Bestiary, only select, sapient variants of Harpies could become noble Harpies. Across the ravaged field, their eyes met. "Kill me..." the thing pleaded. But before Gwen could react to the unexpected plea, Kusi's ritual reached its climax. At the Shaur's command, a glut of Negative Energy began to accumulate inside the shrunken head. "Ariel! Caliban!" She quickly retrieved her Familiars. "Golos!" "!" A soundless burst of Negative Energy washed over the wasted woods, smothering the wounded, stifling the croons and groans of the surviving demi-humans. A purple light burst from the desiccated face, drawing a visible torrent of Essence into the undead apparatus. Golos reared its plated head, its jaws suddenly grim. "A Desecrator," came a grumbling roar from deep within the Wyvern's throat, wrought in ancient Draconic. Gwen could see every scale bristled with displeasure. "Gwen, that human must die!" "MISS SONG!" Auberon put up a hand when a wave of dragon-fear disrupted the flow of purple-Essence. "Miss Huamani-Inka's craft is sanctioned by the Tower. It exists as a religious exception to the rule. I would classify it as no different from your unorthodox Planar Ally." Gwen carefully shifted between Golos and Cuzco's Team. "Calamity." Golo's tone grew dangerous. "If this were to occur in my father's domain, your city is forfeit." "Peace," Gwen responded to both Auberon and her Wyvern, channelling her Essence to suppress Golos' overspilling aura. "Lord Lucas, I understand your concern. Golos, this isn't our business, and here isn't our home. Stand down." "Good." The Baron of Shenfield exhaled. "I shall refrain from commenting further, but I applaud your understanding." "No… no… no…" cried a squark from afar. The surviving Sky Priestess was rapidly wasting away. "… the daughters of the Sky Mother must return to the sky…" The creature's hapless mewling reminded her of Chandler's sister, whose soul had been trapped in the Death Orb. Compared to that, Gwen imagined, consignment to the Void must be merciful oblivion. "Void—" Gwen summoned a single-stage Void Sphere to her lips, but Golos was faster. With a gulp, he scooped up the bird-woman wholesale. "Better this way," Golos spoke with his mouthful, a formidable feat. "It is only right that she returns to the Unformed Land." One by one, the banshee wails ceased. The dark ritual had reached its conclusion. "We will win," Kusi's voice drifted across the death-soaked clearing. She then turned to the proctors. "Sir, we wish to return to Inti." "Of course." Auberon likewise made sure he stood between Golos and the Shamaness. "Miss Song, thank you again." Gwen and her cousin were soon alone with their Wyvern. "BLEEURGH!" Golos regurgitated a mess of charred feathers and mangled flesh, mimicking what he had witnessed in Nagaland. Gwen and Petra leapt back. "It lives." Golos gloated at his new trick. "Pats!" Gwen felt her heart skip a beat. Here was an excellent opportunity to exercise the middle path. "Can you heal it? I want to speak to it." Petra dropped two cubes at once, simultaneously activating both a Restoration and a Cure Moderate. She wasn't about to question her cousin's motives when the Harpy could have perished a second later. "Spell's working, but its life-force is fading." Petra frowned. "Sometimes, that which is taken cannot be restored." "Not always." Gwen intuitively knew what to do. She hadn't watched Sufina for a year and learnt nothing. Circulating her Essence, she fed a drop of Almudj's panacea into the Harpy's lips, careful not to let its razor-sharp teeth snag her fingertips. "More Positive Energy." Gwen held the saliva covered Harpy as it convulsed. Petra obliged. An over-supply of healing energies resulted in cancerous growth, but she wasn't about to fuss over a demi-human's longitudinal well-being. "Cali, Ariel, come out." Gwen materialised her Familiars. In the ankle-deep grit, the Harpy's feathers rapidly moulted. The burnt plumes fell from its chest and its arms, exposing two shapely mounds for a split-second before a downy fuzz hid the creature's shame. Gwen baulked at the sight of avian-mammaries. From her Bestiary, she had imagined Harpies were birds with human heads. Instead, the woman's lower body was undeniably like her own but for a pair of enormous eagle-claws. Its upper torso was likewise no different until one saw its elongated fingers, reminding Gwen of an archaeopteryx. In place of hair, the Harpy sported a fringe of beautiful, blue-green feathers akin to a lorikeet's. When finally the Sky Priestess' facial features regenerated, Gwen marvelled its long-slitted eyes, each set with ruby-red irises. As a woman pulled from the underworld, the Sky Priestess inhaled sharply, its dilated pupils contracting into focus. Then, it remained very still while a Void Sorceress, a Mineral Scholar, a Kirin, a Death Worm and a bus-sized Wyvern loomed over its quivering body.

As a noble, Phelara was born blessed. By the grace of the Sky Father, she possessed the multi-coloured plumage unique to her lineage, promising beauty, magic and intelligence. Last night, when the Sun Father had kissed the Tree Mother, she and her sisters had awoken to a great roaring conflagration, whipping the flock into a headless frenzy. Phelara's first instinct was to order the den mothers to gather the chicks and the unhatched eggs. She then commanded her brood to strike the green and sappy branches so that they fell into the flames rather than be caught alight. In the past, when the sky had punished the tribe with lightning, the strategy had worked. Yet, somehow, against all reason, the blaze grew fiercer. No matter how the priestesses called upon the air and wind, the burning boughs smouldered. "This is no natural fire! It's magic! Find the priests of the stone cities!" The Cloud Father had called out, wise enough to recognise the fire's supernatural origins. At their leader's behest, the whole flock, Phelara included, had fanned out to flush the men of the mountains from their hiding spot. "Here!" a veteran warrior had trilled. A group of city-kin had broken through the canopy and were rapidly making for the open air. "That one! The wielder of fire!" Before Phelara could answer her brood-mate, a net of sticky vines had tangled the warrior's wings. Preoccupied with saving a hen, Phelara helplessly watched as the stricken female tumbled into the flaming forest. "Sister!" Phelara screeched in anguish as her sibling's confused cries echoed. Many of Phelara's ungifted sisters lacked her aptitude. The bronze-feathers were inferior daughters of the Sky Father, but they were her sisters all the same. "After them!" the Cloud Father hooted, his voice ringing from treetop to treetop, reverberating through the air. The warriors gave chase, lead by Phelara and a few others. Along the way, they notified the surrounding Copper Claws, told their suffering through songs of agony and distress. Flock by flock; the tribes mobilised until they were innumerable! One after another, they peeled the mountain-priests from their pack. Unlike the feather-kin, these "humans" were inexpert fliers, obfuscating their retreat with magic, and hiding whenever they could. But the tribe was relentless, so long as Phelara's kin persisted in the chase, it was inevitable that her flock would catch the culprits. Then, they would crush their bones, eat their flesh, and drag out their innards to feed the Tree Mother! Phelara's final salient recollection was cornering another city-kin. Instead, the sun rose. For the kin of the sky, whose instincts were tied to the ebb and flow of Father Sun and Mother Moon, the phenomenon was enough to send the flock into turmoil. Phelara was no different, her dark pupils had contracted violently, owl-blind by the early sun, while her mind struggled to reconcile reality and instinct. When finally the dire radiance enveloped the flock, Phelara could do nothing. Haplessly, her sisters tumbled from the sky. The lucky ones were disintegrated. The unlucky ones burst into flames. Those like Phelara plunged into the forest below, made insensible by the heat. When she regained consciousness, she was but one of many, keening in the charcoaled ruins. Her eyes were blinded, seared by the radiance. She was bereft of her proud plumage; her skin wept, smeared with ash. Every measure of her being was in exquisite agony, and that was before she sensed the strange magic syphoning her soul. Phelara couldn't see, but she knew it was a charm of undeath. The same rot and decay utilised by the troll-hags of the deep forest. Should the spell succeed, the accursed abomination would secure their souls to serve its ancestors, preventing the sky-kin from returning to the blue expanse. It was a final indignity, one that filled Phelara's bosom with anguish. Then, the Sky Father heard her plea. She died. Still conscious in the belly of a blessed beast, she realised she had been eaten. Then without warning, broken, mangled and covered with mucus, she was abruptly re-birthed into the world, as helpless as a new-born chick. In her delirium, a panacea had suffused her body, more potent than anything she had ever consumed, exceeding even the Cloud Father's blessing. Unbidden, her body healed and her bones mended; when finally her mind recovered, she gazed upon her saviours. Why had they saved her? That was the question pressing at Phelara's scarlet-feathered throat. The Cloud Father had warned his Priestesses that the kin from the mountains sometimes took young chicks from their nests for sport. As for the fates of those poor sisters, none could know. Very slowly and with great care, Phelara lifted her plumed head from the soot-stained earth. She then spread her emerald wings, laying on the ground in a gesture of supreme supplication. "Hello there," a female voice articulated from above. It was a tall city-kin female who spoke. She was a stranger, and yet Phelara felt familiarly drawn, as though something indefinable connected them. "The Sky Father blesses," Phelara intoned carefully with clicks and squawks, keeping her pitch low and her teeth hidden. She caught the female's scent, and Phelara knew as sure as her wishbone that here was an extraordinary being. The old tales had told of such creatures. She was in the presence of a Godling. "My name is Gwen." The female waited until Phelara lifted her head. "This is Petra. That's Ariel and Cali, and the one who saved you is Golos." A pair of nostrils large enough for Phelara to stow a clawed foot sniffed her body. Reflexively, she quivered in Golos' presence. Like the female, Golos was also a Godling. From their scents, Phelara discerned, they must be siblings. "Golos, not so close, you're scaring her." The female called "Gwen" pushed the scale-kin away. "Change to your human form." Phelara gaped while Golos shrunk, not even the Cloud Father could change his shape. "So," Gwen commanded Phelara. "Your name?" "Phelara," she replied. "It means she with the illustrious feathers." "I can see why. They're beautiful." The Godling shook her wing-digits. Confused, Phelara bowed her slender neck. A pair of ivory hands then brushed over her plumes. Phelara quivered; she couldn't help but gaze upward at the green-eyed female with wonder. "This one I like," the Godling called Golos spoke. There was an unmistakable scent of musk. "She has Father's colours." Phelara remained bowed. "EEee!" A four-legged Godling that bore the same scent as the female nudged her in the chest. "Shaa!" A serpent coiled around Phelara's clawed feet. She suppressed an instinctual desire to swoop. Unlike the furry Godling, this one did not smell of anything. "Gwen," a second female inquired of her leader. "What do you intend to do with this... thing?" Unlike their alpha, the female called "Petra" smelled strongly of earth. "I want to hear your story, Phelara," the Godling demanded. "Tell me how you got here, and where you came from." The more Gwen interacted with Phelara, the more she liked the demi-human. Aesthetics aside, the bird was polite, respectful, and guileless. Haltingly, the Sky Priestess relayed her tale. When her discourse had been delivered, Gwen mulled over the occurrence. From the sounds of it, Richard was to blame, Jiro was the chief culprit, and Inti was the hand of deliverance. Perhaps it was because Phelara had a human face, or maybe it was because of the Necromancy, Gwen felt especially empathic and sensitive to the Harpy's plight. It was sanctimony, of course, but her sympathy for the moment was genuine. Now empathetically invested, Gwen instructed Caliban and Ariel to conduct search and rescue, as they had practised in Burma. By the time Phelara provided a summation of the territories between here and the Temple of Mama Killa, a total of twenty-two mangled individuals huddled in the impromptu clearing. Initially, there were twenty-four survivors. Caliban, unfortunately, had gotten overexcited. As for number twenty-three; Golos had pulled the unlucky bird from beneath a fallen log, but left its legs where they lay. Once the moment ripened, Gwen requested Petra revive the surviving Harpies. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. "...Fine." Petra's concern was for what the Proctor's would think, though she did acknowledge that the same trick had worked wonders in Kachin. As expected, a few more ragged-looking Harpies retaliated as soon as they were hale. In response, Ariel swatted them down, confirming the pecking order. After a few reassuring squawks from Phelara, the flock fell into line. "Copper Claws! Kin of the Sky! I have something to say." Gwen found herself a stump, stared down at the surviving squadron, then began to speak. "QUIET!" Phelara screeched at her peers, mothering them into submission. "Listen to the Godling!" "TOMORROW…" her voice projected through the clearing. "Tomorrow we shall travel through Amazonia. Tomorrow, we shall press upon your home." "SCREECH!" As one, the flock burst into a clamour of croons. "EE!" Ariel let loose a wailing warning. "SHAAA!" Caliban flailed a tentacle. The mob quietened, though a few of the dumber specimens continued to rile themselves. "We come in peace!" Gwen told a white-lie, hoping that Jiro and the rest of the Explorers didn't choose this moment to visit. "Lies!" "Deceiver!" "Killer!" The lesser Harpies wouldn't have it. Not even Phelara could keep her rag-tag siblings in check. "SHUT IT!" Golos opened his mouth. A line of vivid lightning shot straight through the congregation, obliterating two Harpies in the span of a wink. The woods grew suddenly silent, harmonious but for the sound of cracking timber. Twenty survivors. "We mean you no—" Gwen cleared her throat, making a mental correction to the script. "We INTEND no harm! Unlike the soul-stealing mountain-kin, we come from Shanghai! For our quest, the tribe of Fudan wishes to transgress through your home to reach the ruins below. By my word and the grace of the Sky Father, your nests, your trees, your brood, will remain untouched by our passing." Her captive audience hearkened, a flock of quails attending to a fox. "I ask for your trust, and to that end, you have two choices. You could fight us, and indeed, it is your freedom to do so. BUT, should that be your choice, there will be- VOID SPHERE!" With a whip of her fingers and a liberal dash of vitality, Gwen fired an all-consuming sphere of Void that first expanded to consume an enormous stump, then erupted as a dark nova, displacing a dozen more. The resultant vertigo was palpable. Several of the Harpies grew suddenly ill. "CONVERSELY-" Gwen allowed her dragon-fear to manifest in its entirety. "You can guide us through your domain as peaceful guests. That way, I win, you win, we all win. WIN-WIN!" "We shall guide you," Phelara grovelled. "Just your eminence?" "No. It'll be myself, Petra here, Gogo, and a few others." "Not…" Phelara paused. "Not the…" "The Desecrator." Golos was feeling helpful. "Not the Desecrator." Phelara and the flock bobbed like hens. "Not the Desecrator, nor her flock. Not on our life." "Not a soul from the mountain-kin's pack?" "None." Phelara was adamant. "Especially the Sun God." "I shall meditate on the matter." Gwen knew she had to consult with Tei on their latest intelligence. As for the Cuzco allies, she felt unimpressed by the challenge left by Kusi, not to mention there was the matter that Cuzco was arguably ahead on CCs. "Phelara, guard your flock. Golos, you stay and make sure they stick around. Don't you dare think of eating our feathery friends." Golos eyed the females contemplatively. With a glance, Gwen retrieved her Familiars, then placed a hand on Petra's shoulder. "Let's see what Tei thinks of all this," Gwen informed her cousin. "After centuries spent fighting Necromancy. I am sure he'll take to Kusi very kindly." "Very well." Inti inclined his perfect chin. "I understand your apprehension. Thank you for not reneging our non-aggression pact." "It is we who should be thankful for your understanding." Gwen extended a hand. "Regardless, I promise you that the relics of your people will receive the greatest care from us." "May the best team win," Inti intoned. Cuzco and Fudan's leaders exchanged handshakes. Before the conference, Gwen had expressed her concerns for the unusual magic demonstrated by Kusi, stopping short of the N-word. After consulting with her fellow members of Fudan's "flock", it was clear that close-cooperation was no longer possible. Openly, Tei had expressed that as one whose family spent generations putting the undead to eternal sleep, he refused to work alongside Kusi. Rene's dislike was likewise pronounced, citing that were it not for the Northern Front, she would be richer by two cousins, an aunt, and a grand-uncle. Lulan reminded Gwen that her beloved Master had died at the Front, eliciting from her vice-captain a heartfelt apology. Finally, Petra expressed that she distrusted the three girls from Cuzco and that Inti was slicker than a snake oil peddler. In the end, "splitting the party" became a unanimous decision. Having then agreed on limiting their continued cooperation, both teams proceeded with the Dungeoneering. Once the Magi-tech engineers tethered the data-slates to the Divination Engine, a topographic projection of the region came into view. Tica gave her annotations, then Richard filled-in what Tica had left out. In the time since the teams' recovery, Cuzco Tower had reported that the three teleported members were safe and recovering in the infirmary. This resolved the tension somewhat, enough at least for Tica and Richard to recount their adventure. According to the duo, it was during the final incursion into the temple itself that the parties had been discovered, leading to their hasty escape through the canopy, followed by many hours of hide-and-seek until they were close enough to receive Inti's salvation. Richard sighed. He had envisioned that Gwen would nail the flock with an Ariel-charged Maelstrom or a Void Vortex. As for the temple-Dungeon, the Dungeoneers had their work cut out for them. The golden halls of Mama Killa's abode were now a troll-fortress, its ancient walls converted into a grotesque ziggurat, at the top of which the trolls offered their live sacrifices. "Are trolls religious?" Gwen enquired. "Amazonian trolls worship the Dark God of the Forest, Kernunno," Tica demonstrated her expert knowledge. "It's a proto-religion atypical of demi-humans. They believe that Amazonia was created for their benefit alone and that they are the offspring of Kernunno, who sowed his seed to form the trolls. For a fort of this size, anticipate two hundred warriors, ten shamans, and over a thousand slaves. In all likelihood, a Hag Coven leads the fort." "A coven?" Gwen inquired. "A trio of Hags, lead by an arch-Hag..." Tica described the rare troll variant. "...highly adept at using magic, capable of debilitating spells that cause rot, disease and ruin." "A trio of Hags, eh?" Gwen pursed her lips thoughtfully. "The wild and withered variety?" "Yes, I suppose." Tica shrugged. "They are consorts to the Chieftain, and also his advisors." Their attention returned to the map. "The fire your man had set should have cleared the vegetation somewhat," Inti explained, pointing at the eastern quadrant of the temple city. "The canopy and the emergent layer should be significantly diminished. We intend to make our entry from there." Looking at the Harpy's home, Gwen felt a pang of guilt, followed by a stab of hypocrisy. Like many bleeding hearts in her old world, she was the sort who loved her wagyu so long as she didn't pet the calf. As a fellow "deforester", she wasn't sure if she had the credentials to critique the slash and burn of an entire eco-sphere for ease of access. "We'll arrange our entrance ourselves." Gwen motioned to Inti. "For now, let's say Fudan takes the western quadrant? Is that agreeable?" Topographically, the temple complex was rectangular, with the old temple in the middle. To split the task in twain, therefore, was entirely agreeable. "One more thing." Gwen allowed a sliver of Essence to permeate her presence. "We will be proceeding through the Harpy's lair close to the ruins. Due to Miss Kusi's cultural Spellcraft, we humbly request that Cuzco does not disturb the Indigenous inhabitants." The conference table grew silent. "If possible, we would like Cuzco to bypass the main nesting site of the Copper Claws," Gwen continued, her tone neither boastful nor pleading. "You may need to fly around, meaning your detour is longer. Is that agreeable?" "Why such love for the demi-humans?" Kusi's voice came across with undisguised hostility. "Are you allying yourselves with man-eating Monsters?" "Speak for yourself, Necromancer," Rene snorted. "I'd rather party with a Harpy than a Death Mage." "Our ancient craft isn't Necromancy!" Musi snarled. "You ignorant raka!" "Says the sha-bi!" Rene grew instantly hot. "Your kind should be locked up in Tianlanqiao." "Let's hope we don't meet in the temple." "You better hope." Tei attempted to calm the situation, but the grave keeper's presence failed to douse the flaring temper. Tica watched by the side, seemingly amused by her teammate, while Jiro attempted to pull Rene back. "ALRIGHT!" Gwen spared no expense in filling the room with her presence, causing even Inti to turn a shade lighter. "SHUT UP! All of you. Cuzco, I request that you avoid the Copper Claw's nesting site. If you wish to proceed, I can't speak for the risks involved." "Is that a threat?" Musi stepped in, a finger touching her daggers. Gwen's orbs glowed. Did these indigenous girls really think Fudan were ripe avocados ready for the plucking? "You call that a threat?" Lulan stepped up. A two-metre slab of jade-green iron materialised mid-air. "This is a threat." "Stop! We agree!" Inti checked the girls' retorts, placing himself as a barrier. "Cuzco will make the detour." "Much obliged." Gwen inclined her chin, hiding her dislike for the Shaur siblings. "We'll do our best to ensure you won't be delayed. I promise." "The promise of an outlander?" Kusi had to have the final word. "Enough!" Inti snapped, then bowed his head. "I am very sorry, Miss Song. Please pay them no heed. Cuzco SHALL bypass the Harpy den, one way or another." The sibling's objection was stared down by Tica, the undisputed queen of Inti's future harem. "Thank you." Gwen found the prince as agreeable as the sisters were disagreeable. "Allow me to apologise for our misgivings in advance." Ignoring their detractors, the teams' leaders soon agreed on their divergent routes, ultimately descending upon the fort from the east and west. When Gwen brought her Dungeoneering team to greet their Harpy guides, she found the colourful pheasant surrounded by more of her kin. In the intervening three hours or so, Phelara had been busy. "What's happened?" she alighted onto the soot-strewn earth. A series of unintelligible squarks that translated into "She comes" and "It's the sister" and "I want my turn" addressed Gwen's arrival. When she shooed the bird-women away, trying to find Phelara, she heard a parting of ruffled feathers. "Phelara?" Gwen spotted her favourite bird in a wholly unexpected condition, one involving her Wyvern. Golos sat in his demi-human form, raw as a peeled onion, erect as a flagpole, looking happier than a bear with a stomach full of salmon. Beside her Planar Ally, Phelara appeared as though she had been put through the wringer. Here and there, she was missing tufts of feathers. As for Golos, either he had been vigorously punching a downy pillow, or he had done the Discovery Channel special. "Wow." Rene licked her dry lips. "A wyvern's club has a spiked knob." "It's the tail." Gwen's face flushed a brilliant scarlet while her fingers tingled. She had told Golos to protect the Harpies, but instead, she had set loose a cock in a henhouse. Or perhaps, was it more akin to commanding a dog to guard the hens, and only to find— She slapped her cheeks to clear her head. Phelara wobbled to her feet. Beside her, a few other hardy specimens helped one another to stand, strained by their weakened knees. Gwen pinched her brow. "Golos. Put on some pants." Golos materialised a shawl. "Phelara? Have you decided?" "Yes." The Sky Priestess nodded, arching her spine in avian supplication. "We would like to invite Lord Golos to our domain." "I'll need a week," Golos intoned with great anticipation. "Maybe two." "YOU need to work," Gwen intervened. "No work, no play. I need those trolls gone, and relics recovered. Else, I'll send you back to Ruxin, and you can explain your failure personally." Golos grunted. Sighing, Gwen briefly explained their plan, stating that she had secured a deal to avert further damage to Phelara's village. "Yes!" Phelara declared, now more helpful than ever. "The Cloud Father will show you where the trolls are weakest! Where the Hags sleep! We often raid one another. The giant-kin foray into our domain and take our young and our eggs for nourishment. Father may even know where these relics of the mountain-kin may be hidden. He has been our leader since the fort was manned by 'humans', many seasons ago!" "Excellent." Gwen patted the bird on the head. "Well done. I have rewards for you if your Cloud Father can help us. For him as well, you can tell him that." She then turned to her Wyvern. "Gogo." she slapped Golos on the back. "Cheer up! Not only do you to get to eat trolls, but you also get to tango! Just remember, dead trolls, recover relics. Work well, and I'll keep you manifested. FOR TWO WHOLE WEEKS."

From Condor’s Rise, the IIUC proctors and the local garrison watched with ambivalent expressions as Fudan's menagerie entered the viridian expanse of Amazonia. As pay back for Inti's detour, Fudan had volunteered the thankless task of first-contact. It was a risky move, though the proctors did not doubt for a moment Gwen possessed the means for an all-consuming alpha-strike. “People are not going to believe this,” Tei shared another set of opinions. “A Void beast, a Kirin, a Wyvern and now Harpies, are we a Beast Tide?” “They'll love it.” Gwen flew behind her Kirin's slipstream. “Golos is a Huangshan local, and we dealt with macaques before, right?” “But these are HARPIES!” Tei baulked. "They're not even half-breeds. They're the real deal." “Isn't that amazing?” Gwen turned to their guide. “Phelara, how long have your people inhabited Amazonia?" The Sky Priestess levelled herself, carefully adjusting her velocity. “Mistress,” the Harpy said. “Our progenitors came from the sky. In the beginning, there was only the Sky Mother. When she grew lonely, she birthed the egg of the Sky Father.” “Ooo,” Gwen cooed. “Immaculate Conception, very nice. Go on.” “When the Sky Father grew out its feathers, it longed for the Sky Mother. Together, they made many eggs, each engendering the different tribes of the sky-kin.” “How Grecian,” Gwen thought of Gaia and Uranus. “How many tribes are there?” “Over forty with which we keep in close contact,” Phelara supplied the intel without reserve. “The Copper Claws had been one of the larger tribes.” Gwen caught the loss in Phelara’s tone and felt unmistakable remorse. The birds' flocks had been doing their thing, living day to day without care until disaster had risen from below without rhyme nor reason. “Don’t fret, little bird,” Golos’ reassuring voice sounded beside her. “There will be countless young ones in the years to come. Strong by virtue of my blessed blood!” “I look forward to that day, Lord Golos.” Golos beamed. “Exactly how many eggs is the bird lady planning to lay? ” Lulan asked suddenly. Gwen's lips quivered, loathing the prospect of having to explain polygamy to Lulan, wondering what Kusu would say if he knew. "There's a teapot full of tea," Golos snorted. "And there are many cups waiting to be filled..." "Gogo!" Gwen tried to prevent the corruption of Lulu. Golos burst into lewd laughter. Below the flock, a cloud of birds rose into the air, fleeing in all directions. "Phelara," Gwen changed the subject. "What lies in the deep forest? At the centre of Amazonia?" "I do not know," the Harpy apologised. "Some say there is a great tree that holds up the sky. Some say there are ancient beings there, Godlings in their own right, guarding the heart of the forest. Our Cloud Father says that there are worse beings than trolls. Either way, we never venture past the Wall of Woods." "The wall of wood?" Gwen asked. "What's that?" "A great forest of trees taller than the emerald sea." Phelara's eyes grew reverent. "Beyond which, the Cloud Father says lies the domain of the ageless ones." "And what is what?" Gwen felt her boundless curiosity tickled yet again, "I do not know." The Harpy's voice grew remorseful. "We are told not to ask." "Aww..." Gwen comforted the Harpy. "Don't fret. Tell me instead of the trolls." "Yes, mistress..." Enthralled by the cruelty of the nefarious trolls, Fudan's journey continued as a bee-line on the mapping slate. Whenever the flock approached a new Harpy nesting site, Phelara flapped ahead to herald passing, securing an unmolested passage. "We're close," Tei remarked eventually. "Gwen?" "Phelara?" Gwen passed on the enquiry. "Where are your kin?" “I am not sure. There should be nest guards. SISTERS! WHERE ARE YOU?” Phelara's response was to loudly screech in rapid succession. "This is most strange. My sisters should be stationed here, as is their duty." Gwen scanned the horizon for a miniature sun or at least signs of smoke. Though it was unlikely, Cuzco might have deceived them after all, choosing to infiltrate the ruins directly. “Our nests may be under attack.” Phelara too searched the horizon for clues, though the mist-shroud limited aerial surveys. “If an enemy proves too strong, our warriors will sacrifice themselves to exhaust the enemy. But, as it stands, our flight is diminished by half." "Do not fear." Golos offered his service first before turning to Gwen. "Calamity, I am going to help." “Don't bugger off just yet." Gwen held her Wyvern in check. "Tei, what's your take on this?" “We'll have to deal with Phelara's troubles when we return regardless,” Tei affirmed Golos' desires. “If so, let's resolve it now.” “Why not leave it for Cuzco to solve,” Petra advised. “I am with Petra,” Rene said. "It's not like we owe Cuzco. Circumstances change all the time." "I am with Tei." Lulan was eager to fight, ensuring that the ayes have it. “Good, I prefer to keep our word.” Gwen turned to the Sky Priestess. “Lead on, Phelara!” Ascending to a higher altitude, the group maximised their speed. Soon, they caught sight of a flame-ravaged forest smoking gently, adding to the mid-day haze. "There!" the Sky Priestess squawked. Above the treetops, a massive flight of Harpies encircled an unknown something, forming a whirlpool of coppery feathers. "Something stinks!" Golos barked, his voice suddenly unsure. "Father's feathers! What is that scent?!" “Mistress, my flock is under attack!” Phelara accelerated amid a chaotic bell-beat of clamorous wings. “Sisters! Aid our kin!” "You're right, what IS that?" Like Golos, she too had caught an offensive presence. "!" As Ayxin's scale licked her spine, Gwen additionally noted that her Wyvern hadn't bolted like a bloodhound after a hare. "Alright, Familiars at the front." Tei didn't need draconic instinct to sense that trouble was brewing. "Formation C. Lulan takes the rear. Buff up!" Up ahead, the encircling mass of Harpies began to exercise the sort of manoeuvre more typically seen in the ocean, where swarms of silvery school-fish formed massive bait-balls to deter predators. When Phelara’s flock joined the encircling Bright-Feathers, a burgeoning polyp of overlapping, coppery feathers rapidly expanded until, like a pustule, the avian mass burst into shrieking, free-wheeling birds. “Wocao!” Rene, now clad in Lava Skin, let loose a sulphurous expetive. “What in Mao’s name is that?” The being that emerged from the floundering flock was enormous, at least half the size of Golos. From a distance, the gargantuan bird appeared to possess the misshapen head of a man attached to a condor's body. Its nose, which Gwen had at first mistaken for a beak, was long and hooked; its lips, a thin, severe line, extended from ear to ear, revealing rows of human-like incisors. With a snap, it snagged a Harpy from the air, crushing the poor thing between both sets of teeth, its prehensile tongue wringing the bird of its bodily juices before spitting the carcass back at the flock with disdain. When it flew, its feathers sliced the air with the sound of metal-on-metal, affecting a noise akin to windchimes. “A Da-Peng!” Golos banked to a halt, his expression gravid with dread. “Impossible!” “Mao! A Big Bird!” Tei discerned that the avian-titan possess claws that resembled six-fingered hands. “Aren't they extinct?” "Slaughtered to the last by the Mythic Dragons." Lulan too knew the popular legend. “So, an extinct species...” Petra materialised a lumen-recorder. "The question is, what's it doing here?" Gwen attempted to reconcile the monstrous being in front of them with the semi-baked alphabet-teaching yellow bird of her childhood. “Big Bird? What's a Big Bird?” "Dragon-eaters," Tei whispered in awe. "In ancient times, they hunted dragons for sport. When the great drakes allied with the Yellow Emperor, they drove the Da-peng to extinction. It's all recorded in the Analects of the Mountains and the Seas. The last Da-peng perished in a stew for the Emperor..." “I don't understand, how can there be Da-Peng still in existence?” Golos appeared shaken by their present reality. "Father is never wrong!" Gwen was just about to retort when a puzzle piece clicked into place. "Gogo." She shared the Wyvern's dismay. "I think I know why there are no dragons in Amazonia or in the Andes." As a scion of the Yinglong, Golos was smarter than the average drake. When it realised what Gwen had hypothesised, his gonads quailed. "In Amazonia," Gwen declared with a fatalistic air. "Your kind lost the war." "So..." Rene raised a hand. "Do we keep fighting?" "We must fight." Tei reminded them of their present condition. "I don't fancy fighting the trolls with that thing looming over us." "We'll feed it to Cali!" Lulan was raring to go. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. “Gwen,” the Russian suddenly caught Gwen's arm. “Lulan's right on the money. Didn't you say Caliban needed a flying form? If we use Bilby's, I think we can do it.” The Void Sorceress' orbs widened. All doubt evaporated. From their safe vantage, Gwen studied the Da-peng. Indeed, Big Bird was a worthy combatant. As her enemies grew in power, Caliban's choice of polymorphic forms grew rarer and more demanding. In Shanghai, she had even considered asking Jun to take her on another tour, maybe to Kunlun to hunt the Thunder Birds. "Cali?" she asked her hidden Void beast. "Shaa!" Caliban was keener than Golos after a dry spell. "KAKAKA!" a great cry, half-bird and half-human, split the air. With a single thrust of its wings, the Da-peng broke through the Harpy's encirclement, pursuing something. "Wocao! It's after our bird!" Rene spluttered. "Well, that's sealed the deal then," Gwen gave her commands. "Tei, Pats and I are going to immobilise it with our Bilby’s Hands. Neither of us can have our concentration disrupted.” “Not a problem.” “Golos! What do you know about Big Birds.” “They’re immune to draconic magic… and highly resistant in general. Also, they're strong.” “Anything else?” “Nothing." Golos appeared wary. "Not even Ruxin has seen one in the flesh." “Don't worry, Gogo. Mama's got the big bad bird covered." Gwen teased her Wyvern. A surge of lightning exploded over Golos, boiled over like an over-filled kettle. “FIRST BLOOD IS MINE!” Golos blasted off into the distance, ready to deliver his payload. Gwen motioned for their rear guard. “Lulu, can you cover Gogo?” “With pleasure.” Lulan had been watching the Da-Peng scythe its way through the flock, tracing its movements as it missed Phelara by a wing-length. A faint, jade-green emanation suffused the Earthen Mage's Iron Skin as she tapped into her Naga Spirit, briefly materialising five subtle serpent heads across her arms and her neck. “All at once?” “Go for broke.” Gwen began her spell. “True Strike!” Petra dropped unto Lulan a Divination buff she had saved for just the occasion. “Rene?” Rene kept her eyes affixed on their prey; her Salamander Spirit feeding her Lava Skin. The Da-peng dived, closing in on Phelara, ignoring her wind blades. "Now!" “Panzerschreck!” Ahead, Golos accelerated, transforming into a blur, affecting a sound like rolling thunder. _SCHWING!_ As one, Lulan’s weighted arrows accelerated from the Elemental Plane of Earth, racing past the crackling Wyvern. “BARAKA!” The bird suddenly banked, spluttering Harpy blood like a mangled sprinkler. Before Golos could deliver its breath attack, the Da-peng split its maw wider than a dump truck, then let loose a shriek so cacophonous that Gwen had to hold her ears from half-a-kilometre away. As though beset by invisible turbulence, Golos’ trajectory floundered. His aerodynamic form crumbled. Against all expectation, the Wyvern roared, writhing in agony, crashing into a tree. “KAKAKA!” the Da-peng cackled. “Gogo!” Gwen cried out, shocked that her Wyvern wasn't up to snuff. _CLANG!_ Lulan’s missiles struck, unaffected by its hideous birdsong. _CLANG!_ _CLUNG!_ _TANG!_ _THUNK!_ “KAAK!” Screeching roars of deforming metal polluted the air. The first Panzerschreck had sent the man-faced condor back into the flock. The volley that followed then struck the creature unerringly, ping-ponging it into the arboreal sea. “Lulan, another round.” Gwen kept herself within range of Tei’s defences as she and Petra drifted closer. “Phelara! Help your kindred! We'll take care of it.” A great squark split the Harpy flock, dispersing the winged females while Gwen and her party moved in to inspect their prey. Parting the trees, they saw that Lulan had outdone herself, for one of her stabilised projectiles had pinned the Da-Peng’s inner wing to the trunk of an enormous acacia. With its body nailed against the fibrous wood, the fiend's fingers failed to purchase the smooth bark, leaving it momentarily helpless. With Ariel and Tei at the fore, the party approached. Upon closer inspection, the Da-Peng did indeed possess human hands for feet, with six digits on each foot, tipped with claws akin to inwardly turned scimitars. "HAKAKUU!" The Da-peng was screaming blue murder at Gwen and her party, its feather-strewn face twisted in irrational hate and agony, outdoing Gwen's Translation Stone. “Gogo, get over here!” Gwen commanded her fallen Wyvern. Knowing the lineage of Dragons and their ilk, Gwen suspected there was something very much ingrained in the blood that prevented Golos from exercising his usual enthusiasm. “What’s wrong with you?” Golos climbed the air. At the sight of Golos, the Da-peng began to howl and cackle. It salivated uncontrollably. “It’s calling for help!” Petra called out. “Lulu!” “Panzerschreck!” _TANG!_ _CLUNG!_ _THUNK!_ Two more Panzerschrecks drew a line of sparks across the bird’s chest and abdomen before ricochetting off into the canopy. The third penetrated a tender portion of its belly. "KAK!" the bird wailed. “Holy hell that’s some defence,” Gwen whistled. “Anyone else wants to have a go?” “Lava Spear!” Rene punched the man-faced bird with a lance of lava. The projectile spent its energy, then crumbled. “Ergh, it's like hitting an iron plate.” Lulan drew an emerald-green blade of iron. She gave its honed edge a swing, eager to test her mettle. “Lulu, don't get too close,” Tei stopped Lulan before she went toe to toe with the thing. “Its physical abilities must be immeasurable.” "Ariel, you stay back as well," Gwen had no desire for Ariel to be put to sleep before they could nuke the troll fort from orbit, and she had no means to cast additional offensive spells while maintaining Bilby's Hand. "EE!" Ariel instead made itself a barrier for its mistress. “Then I shall kill it, and gift it's head to Ruxin!” An ashamed and newly returned Golos loosened his jaw. “ROAR!” “Wait—“ A line of lightning obliterated the bird and the tree behind it. “Idiot!” Gwen swore. Golos stared, dumbfounded that his dragon breath slid past the Da-peng's exterior like water off a duck's back. “Bloody hell!” Gwen berated her thunder-headed stepchild. “WATCH OUT!” The bird was free. The Da-Peng must have figured Gwen for the alpha of the pack. Twisting its torso to bring its grotesque head to bear, it lunged at her as though launched from a catapult. “Tomb Stones!” Tei’s hands were a blur. A collated barrier of raw mana and compressed Dust instantly shrouded his vice-captain, taking the momentum of the predatory pheasant in full. With a din of metal on stone, the bird's claws crumpled the first few inches. Thankfully, its sword-like nails failed to reach Gwen's abdomen. “Dust Tendrils!” Tei appended his defence spell with an additional meta-magic component, wrapping the bird with tendrils of dust. “Hit it while it's slowed!" "KAA!" The bird bit Tei's barrier, shredding a layer of its magic. The Negative Energy contained within the dust, however, was enough to subdue it for the briefest moment. "NOW!" The Da-Peng’s forced error was enough for Gwen and Petra to complete their pre-planned spells. “Bilby’s Hand!” the girls invoked as one. A pair of palms crushed the Da-Peng from either side, each ethereal appendage five meters across from pinky to thumb, shimmering with raw, translucent mana. Ever since Alesia's induction, Gwen had practised the fabled spell of the legendary Bilby ceaselessly, especially now that Petra had joined the fray. Forming a vessel of pure force, the pair of Bilby’s Hands pressed in on the Da-Peng, creaking its bones even as dire feathers sliced into the mana-made flesh. “KAK!” The bird howled in frustration, literally eating away at the girls' spell. “KAK! KAK!” “Keep it pinned!” A surge of heady adrenaline kicked at Gwen's vertebrae. “Caliban!” Caliban slithered into being atop the thrashing bird. "KAKA?" The Da-peng's panic was written all over its face. “SHAAA!” Her Familiar decided its serpent form was appropriate for the occasion. It opened its maw, then let loose its twin tentacles. “KAKU!” The bird twisted its lower limb, snatching at Caliban. It caught the serpent by the lower-mid section, then squeezed. Gwen gaped as a bubbling dribble of stuff oozed between its hand-claws. Since Burma, Caliban's carapace had grown sturdier by magnitudes. Nonetheless, in-between the pink digits of the Da-peng, her Familiar may as well be a caramel-filled churro. Besides her vice-captain, Lulan gulped, imagining herself being squeezed out like lotus-filling mantou. “Gods, it’s strong!” Petra strained with visible effort. Lacking Gwen's VMI, she was struggling to maintain the hand at full force. Gwen, meanwhile, wrote an empty vitality-check for Caliban to cash, confident that Big Bird should provide her with a subsequent windfall. "Shaa-shaa!" The faceless portion of Caliban slithered up the Da-peng’s torso, shedding its lower body with less care than a Bobbit worm. “KAA!” This time, it was the Da-peng's neck that distended. Its humanoid face full of insanity. With a snap, it tore off Caliban’s head, filling its mouth with ichor and gore. Gwen stifled a grunt as her vitality fell. “SHAA!” “SHAA!” “SHAA!” Three heads sprouted where there was one. One little Caliban went for the open wound. The second Caliban assaulted its eyes. And Caliban number three performed the Golos special. Not far, Golos howled sympathetically, reduced to a peanut gallery by the Da-peng's unique physiology. “CONSUME!” Caliban erupted into an indistinguishable mass of tentacles, carapace, flailing fingers and gnashing teeth. The Big Bird writhed, a web of lampreys tunnelled under its goose-skin, its milk-white eyes rolled back in deathly ecstasy, giving way to probing proboscis. At its extremity, pink, elongated digits curled as synapses fired for the last time. Caliban's audience gaped with fascinated horror as the globular mess of feather and flesh reformed itself. When finally the churning gumbo of guts and giblets unwrung itself, they saw a coiled-up Death Worm, ready for its nap. “Shaa!” it belched forth a furball of feathers. Quickly, Golos collected the evidence. "For Ruxin and Father," her Wyvern explained. "I need to tell them that the Da-peng still live." "Good idea- WHOA!" Petra too pilfered a pile for future research, surprising herself when the weight of a singular sheaf tipped her off balance. Yet, the same feathers drifted through the air as though weightless. It was an oxymoronic phenomenon, but not one for which Gwen had time. “I need a place to 'meditate'. Golos!” Gwen retrieved Caliban, sensing that Big Bird’s palpable vitality was about to ravage her innards. “Guard me until I recover.” This time, Golos obeyed without question. With the thoughtfulness of a well-trained hound, it bore her downward, then alighted on a branch the width of a two-lane viaduct. The rest of her party followed. With Caliban arrested in its pocket dimension, Petra unsummoned her Bilby's Hand. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to Cali.” Rene shook at the recent memory of the Da-peng's demise. “Good.” Tei patted her on the back. “Sanity's in short supply in our party.” Lulan drifted close, more contemplative than before. “Gwen.” Petra took up a defensive stance. “The Harpies are returning.” “Tell Phelara to hold.” Gwen maintained her lotus pose. “Pats, privacy barrier, please.” “Water Sphere!” Petra dropped one of Richard’s spells, encasing her cousin’s body. Golos brought to bear its clubbed tail, segregating its mistress from the others. From above, the pair appeared as though a drake safeguarding its blue egg. In the next moment, Phelara broke from the host of Harpies, tweeting in excited tones. “She wants to thank us for saving her tribe,” Golos translated in Gwen's absence. “Their leader wishes to meet with us.” By the hundreds, the great flock alighted around Fudan, threading through space until plumed bodies weighed down every branch and bough. Phelara returned, following a regal Harpy, the first male of its species Fudan had seen. Compared to the females, the male was a splendid specimen, a brilliant hued peacock with three impressive locks marking its forehead. Its pupils, each a vivid scarlet, was punctuated by pearlescent, green lashes. Beneath its delicate, effeminate features, a tapered torso covered in teal-green plumage smoothed out as it hovered, held aloft by elemental air. It bowed. “Saviours,” the Cloud Father spoke in Quechua. “We are—“ “Silence!” Golos raised its head threateningly. “My mistress is preoccupied. Do not approach.” "EE!" Ariel swished its tail. The happy atmosphere grew awkward. "Esteemed master," Tei intervened. "You may speak to me while our sorceress completes her meditation. We are delighted to have been of service in your hour of need. Our companion is overprotective, but Golos' brashness infers no insult." The humans and the Harpies gazed at one another, ignoring the muffled groans escaping from the aquamarine water-barrier. "There is no offence taken," the Harpy's leader spoke with great care. "My name is Aerivela. I am Cloud Father to these young ones." "Well met." Tei bowed, instructing his team to do the same. "We are aware of our trespass..." "It is the Sky Father's will that has brought the Godling here," Aerivela trilled musically. "It is we who are indebted." "What was that creature?" Tei indicated to the dark stain where the Da-peng had been pinned. "An ancient one," Aerivela intoned with reverence. "They live deep in the forest, beyond the wall, beneath the great tree. Since time immemorial, the ancient ones have acted as the guardians of the forest's centre. For one of its kind to appear here is neither expected nor a calamity we could anticipate." "A great tree - a World Tree?" Petra perked up. "Where do the elves dwell? In Amazonia's interior? What colour is their skin? Caramel? Ebony?" Aerivela shook his head. "I would not know, human-kin. None of our kind has ventured past the Wall of Wood. We are happy enough with the domain which the Sky Father has granted us." "I see," Tei cleared his throat. "Has Miss Phelara informed you of the tragedy at Condor's Rise?" "I grieve for our loss..." the male Harpy exhaled. "Though—" _SPLOSH!_ Behind Fudan's Mages, their vice-captain reemerged into the world, balancing herself against Golos's many-spined tail. “Their leader is here to speak to us,” Tei informed the disorientated sorceress while she circulated her Essence. “That's him there, the peacock.” “Oh?” Gwen paused when Tei accused the Harpy's leader of peacocking, but then she saw the peacock. “Oh, I see! Good work, Cap." Golos uncoiled itself while Gwen straightened out her attire, pulled back her hair, then climbed the air. “Greetings, Scion of the Cloud.” Gwen crossed her arms across her chest as Phelara had advised. "We come in peace." According to her endearing avian, the way to convince Phelara's leader lied in presenting herself not as an invader, but as an emissary of sorts. The higher Harpies were a sanctimonious lot, and so the best way to ensure cooperation was through shock and awe. Both of which had been amply supplied by the Da-peng's demise. “Great emissary from beyond the treeless sea,” the brightly hued priest's eyes sparkled. “This one humbly welcomes the Godling to our abode.”

Hardin Smith had thought he would die serving the United States Marine Corps. It was only fair, for he was a post-Tide orphan, one who had reaped the benefits of a booming decade, receiving the best education a world at war could offer. From ward to conscript, from NCO to cadet, his early life had embodied the American Dream. Even as a foundling with no backing and no connections, his judgement, talent, and his ruthless determination had earned him a commission. Those had been his halcyon days, and during a restive lull in San Francisco, Hardin had met his fianceè. The lovers had spent a week locked in a motel, then married. Unfortunately, for his honeymoon, Hardin was sent on a two-year tour to Patagonia. When he returned to the states, war-weary and feeling a decade older, what greeted him wasn't his doe-eyed wife, but drifters puffing the Blue in his abandoned apartment. Hardened by his time in the tundra, Hardin knew that alarm was a useless emotion. He made the necessary enquiries with the local PD and discovered that his wife had become involved with local layabouts. Hardin took some time to cool his head, then made enquiries. The culprit was the leader of a local gang, the son of a multi-millionaire, heir to a string of trendy clubs in San Francisco's bay area. His wife, a pretty, blue-eye thing from the mid-western Frontier, had been out with friends when she must have caught his eye. That certain people predated on the wives and children of military personnel serving abroad wasn't an unusual tale. Hardin had heard the rumour many times in the military but had never expected himself to become a victim. Now that it had happened, what was he to do? An NoM's life, even in the democracy of the States, wasn't worth a high-tier Mage's fingernail. It was a point his CO had drilled into Hardin over and over in cadet school. The equal society spiel was just that, a spiel. Egalitarianism was an ideology, one Hardin with his magical talent could arguably uphold. Conversely, for his NoM wife, life was one big pile of increasingly sour lemons. If Hardin had been a hothead, a penthouse in Rincon would have perished, revealing no less than two dozen victims. As a rational man, Hardin took the loss of his lover as a lesson learnt of the way of the world. He left the military against the advice of his CO, citing bereavement, and walked into the front lobby of Dark Water, America's premier PMC. There, he met with Erik Garant Price, a name he had loathed as a USMC officer, but now saw as the catalyst of his metamorphosis. Across the next decade, Hardin proved himself again and again to his employer. From Guam to Managua, from Bogota to Guayaquil, he had seldom disappointed. As he rose through the hierarchy, his opinion of the world equally expanded. Behind the hands of administrator Price was the Towers, and behind the Towers, were the Factions. Beyond that, there were more significant forces at play, far beyond Hardin's pay-grade. Take his current quest, for example. His role was so embedded in the agenda of the higher powers that he had given up on elucidation. On the surface, he had been hired by the Tower Master of Cuzco, one Amaru Paullu-Yupanqui, cousin to the Incan's Sapa. In Hardin's estimation, the ambitious Mage with the likeness of a snake was fully invested in vaporising the Sapa's son, likely as a bid for more power and control. This coincided with Dark Water's long-term objective: the destabilisation of Amazonia. Hardin's side-project was to document the creatures that could be found within the rainforest. In addition to politics, Dark Water also organised extradition of rare materials for the American Grey Market. These included and were not limited to Incan relics, pre-Tide artefacts and demi-humans, especially exotic female variants. As his boss once had mused: for the ultra-rich, nothing but the best - or the strangest - will satisfy. Armed with Cuzco's crude maps and the Magitech provided by Dark Water, Hardin and his team navigated the forest. Though the feat seemed impossible for some, Hardin had since discovered the hidden rules of the jungle. Prior to his current mission, Hardin had been documenting a second ruin for Amaru. In fact, Hardin had been the one to map the Temple of Mama Killa in the first place, providing the catalyst for his current employment. When finally his Divi-map had received Inti's attack route, Hardin told his team to remain stationed in the Temple of Viracocha, the forge god of the Incan pantheon. Dark Water had promised its Tower VIPs more relics than they could shake a stick at, and the company aimed to deliver. Alone, he then made his way to the Temple of Mama Killa to await the arrival of the sun prince. As a man without family, Hardin preferred solo work, for not all Mages possessed the means to travel undetected across so hostile a landscape. Now crouched against the fork of an ancient cocoa bough, Hardin plucked then masticated its tender leaves. Unlike the variety grown in the north, the Wildland specimens were potent beyond belief. A dozen blades, crushed between one's teeth and suckled for an hour, could keep a Mage awake for days. The concoction did nothing for fatigue, of course, but Hardin wasn't tired; he merely enjoyed the hypersensitive wakefulness. As for the "Amazonian Tragedy" of Prince Inti's fall from grace, Hardin had planned two ploys and a flawless contingency. First, he had previously harassed the Troll fort so that not only were its denizen aware and vigilant, the beasts had pulled back their scouts and hunting parties from the jungle. Secondly, Hardin had composed and delivered cryptic missives in Trollic, informing the Arch-Hag and her coven that the Son of the Sun would soon arrive to reclaim his Amazonian domain. Of the two, his confidence lay in the Hags. In his mind, there was no doubt the witches would bury themselves deep within the temple caverns, safe from harm until Inti arrived, tired and haggard and out of mana. Then, in that dire moment, the Hag's Brutalisers would fall upon Inti's party, aided by hexes and curses, sending the haughty prince to an early grave. And if somehow Inti survived? In addition to Magister Amaru's 'Contingency Rings', Hardin could activate a string of resonating devices he had painstakingly planted so that all manners of creatures would swarm the Temple of Mama Killa, swallowing Inti in a freakish Beast Tide. Having processed his thoughts, Hardin waited for his prey, a smoky ghost lost in the haze of the Amazonian jungle. Gwen acknowledged that Aerivela was a better host than she was a guest. After a diplomatic exchange, Gwen and her "Flock from Fudan" toured what remained of the tribe's home. As bumpkins visiting a city for the first time, the party then gawked at the wood-spun homes of the Harpies and cooed at the hanging cottages. On suspended balconies, they saw chicks, half-naked and barely feathered, suckled by heavy-breasted hens. Elsewhere, brightly-plumed priestesses lead less experienced pullets in flights around the trees, harassing the stranglers with squawks of frustration. For Gwen, it was a scene that stabbed at her chest. As for her host, his lack of animosity made her squirm in her Shen-tei combat suit. If anything, the peacock Cloud Father reminded her of an ascetic monk, living with one foot in the material world, and the other in the clouds. An Affinity-induced personality? Gwen wondered; though she had no idea if Demi-humans could be affected by such a thing. "I can't say that we're not responsible for your plight," she explained as they toured the Harpy's stronghold. "I mean, our quest ruined your home, and now you're proposing to vacate permanently." The Cloud Father shrugged attractively. "The moment the Ancient one appeared, this place was no longer safe," Aerivela explained with great patience. Though his priestesses were wearing anxious faces, the Cloud Father himself seemed entirely at ease. "The Sky brings life, and it takes as well. Say your fellow city-kin had not burned our home. There would have been more of us, but that would mean more fodder for the Ancient. In your remorse, you come to parley. As was the Sky Father's will, you defeated the Ancient. Now, we live to build a second home. Is not the will of the world intriguing?" "I don't think that's how it works." Gwen was beginning to wonder if the airy Aerivela gave a shit at all. "Do not fret." Aerivela laughed, his handsome, effeminate face radiant as he pointed downward at Golos. The Wyvern had not joined the party when they entered the trees. Instead, he lingered outside, accompanied by Phelara and a flock of warriors eager to engender powerful spawn for the next generation. "Where there is death, there is life. Your death-dealing sibling is now bringing new children to our tribe. Knowing this, what need we fear a decade of labour? The emerald sea is limitless. We shall find a home, and the Great Sky willing, we will grow stronger." If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. Gwen sighed; there was no reasoning with the Harpy Pope. She had anticipated being henpecked, or perhaps, she had expected to coerce Aerivela with her dragon-fear. Instead, the Harpy leader had laughed off her suspicions, dismissed her threats, and told her that Golos was free to plough whatever he wished. "Thank you, Cloud Father." She bowed her head. "I wish there was something else we could do. I could convince Cuzco to leave your new home alone, for example. I can be very persuasive. " "No." The Harpy smiled. "No need. Are you ready to proceed with your quest to recover the relics of the mountain-kin?" Gwen and team noted that they were ready to proceed. "Then I shall direct you to the western entrance." Aerivela lifted a wing, its plumage covering every shade of paradise. "Come, Godling. Your adventure awaits!" With Aerivela's aid, the party broke through a part of the undergrowth the cock had transcribed as neutral territory. All through the forest, these "trails" existed. However, unless one could read the signs and smell the scents of the jungle, the network was impossible to traverse. From treetop to the undergrowth, the guided tour took an hour to thread through the trees, avoiding the unhappy simians left by the Explorers' previous passage. At the understory's end, the party emerged into an overlook hanging. Below, they saw the roving mass of a vegetation-choked stream. "We're here," Tei noted on his device. "This is one of the three streams leading to the temple city." "Follow the water, and you shall not miss your mark," Aerivela intoned sagely. "Remain in the understory and the earth-kin shall not expect your arrival." "Thank you, Aerivela. We'll take it from here." "Beware the coven of three," Aerivela warned her again. "Not even I dare to approach when the crones gather. Once they witness your prowess, they will surely hide and seek to ambush you at your most vulnerable. Such is their way." "Please take care, Mistress," Phelara urged her saviour. "Lord Golos, you as well." "I shall return shortly." Golos, in his human form, pinched the Priestess' underside. "We'll make a whole flock!" "I'll have the nest ready." Phelara touched her belly with the tip of one wing. Feeling as though she had been force-fed dog food, Gwen wondered what Ruxin would think when he found out that she had pimped out his brother. The rest of Fudan's flock likewise diverted their attention to the task at hand. A bird flirting with a Wyvern marked the limit of human prudence. "Inti's been notified." Tei checked his Divi-marked map. "He'll start right after we do." "Right." Gwen took a deep breath. "What's the plan?" "We'll begin with nav-point Alpha, then move to Epsilon pending on their resistance." Tei tapped the map. "Gwen, Barbanginy at E4 and Maelstrom at G16, can you manage without Caliban?" "With Pats here, I should be fine," Gwen refuted her captain's fears. "Cali should awaken by the time we're into the inner chambers. Don't forget, Inti will be taking half their forces as well." "Lord Golos, you will be responsible for the main avenue, C12 to F29, does that satisfy?" "He'll be fine." Gwen patted her Wyvern. "He's eager to return, after all, the sooner the trolls perish, the sooner Gogo inseminates his flock of hussies." "Calamity," Golos corrected her. "Phelara is your aunty." "..." Gwen swore internally. She motioned to the map again. "We're counting on you, Golos. The Troll chief is worth a hefty load of CCs." Golos snorted. The princeling of Huangshan appeared to have restored his bravado after spending some time with the flock. The Da-peng had been a punishing episode for the proud prince, one that Gwen initially feared had scarred the Wyvern's psyche. "Alright!" Gwen shook out her long limbs. "Captain, will you do the honours?" "FUDAN!" Tei snapped, a rare hint of colour touching his grave keeper's complexion. "BUFF UP!" Hardin hung from the underside of a tree overlooking the temple city, plated in MKIII optic-camouflage. To the forest's fauna, he resembled a piece of bark, perfectly blended, appearing nothing like a six-foot soldier clad in articulated combat armour. Attached to his helmet were two tendrils resembling a snail's stalks, the latest in military hardware - a pair of All-Seeing Googles modified for full 360-degree coverage. "There you are." Hardin spotted Inti's mana signature through the layers of spoiled foliage. He double-checked that his Divi-linked devices remained connected to the slate in his hand, wondering why Inti's party still remained stationary. _BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!_ A warning marker appeared in his peripheral vision. The answer to his puzzlement came in the form of an unexpected commotion at the western end of the temple city. Hardin had neglected the quadrant because the passage there was made near-impossible by the density of demi-humans living in the deep jungle. The mercenary willed both google-tentacles toward the phenomenon. As a part-time evoker himself, he recognised the beginnings of a wide-range Maelstrom now collating above the western wall. Below, the trolls exploded into a frenzy of activity, erupting from huts and houses, tents and crude humpies, retrieving whatever weapons they could find. _TWOOOOO! TWOOOOOOO!_ The fort's war-horns called the tribe to action. Hardin cycled through the lens filters until he found one capable of long-range Detect Magic. When the diagnostics came through, his agitation was so profound that he almost broke his perfect camouflage. A Void-Element Maelstrom! Hardin swallowed the cocoa leaves. It was the sort of spell he had only ever read about in the archives. With a shiver, a name intruded into his mind, though Hardin immediately dismissed the possibility. There was no way the world's most hunted Void Sorceress would be in a backwater part of the Amazon, fucking with Trolls. _Shreeeeee—WOOMP!_ A vortex opened into the Quasi-Elemental Plane. The expansion was itself soundless, but not so the gush of hysterical air in its midst. Hardin zoomed in further, maximising the utility of the magical lens. First to be drawn into the all-consuming orifice was the debris. Bits of bone, the carcasses of animals, scraps of leather, crude parchments used by the Shamans, as well as a bric-a-brac of life's little necessities all met with oblivion. Next to rise were the tusk-less slaves, too numerous to hide inside buildings and too weak to grasp onto the smooth stones of the temple's original buildings. With horrible fascination, Hardin observed the phenomenon, clicking his tongue every time a troll was launched into the air to kiss the dark dimension-sphere, its size no more than the circumference of a human head. Whenever Troll-fodders arrived kicking and screaming, they were wrung as though by some irresistible force, turning the consistency of thick soup. "God damn," Hardin couldn't help but mutter. The spell was inexpertly utilised, and its stability was horrid, but even so, its power made his scalp crawl. _Woooooo—WHOOMP!_ Before Hardin could finish recording the first vortex, a second one appeared. Rapidly zooming outwards, Hardin caught the absurd sight of a flying deer imploding a lightning-fed nova. The second Maelstrom was huge, more extensive than anything Hardin had ever seen. Where a regular variant was already an impressive spell with an AoE of fifty meters, this one was well over two hundred and expanding with each passing second. _Crack! Boom! Boom! Boom!_ A cascade of thunder fulminated, mixed in with the sound of war drums. "What. The. Fuck?" Hardin considered tearing away his goggles so that he could acquire un-assisted visual confirmation. The Trolls were now in a frenzy. Compared to the Void Maelstrom, this one was more akin to a natural disaster. Within its epicentre, a portal into the Quasi-Elemental Plane of Lightning tore itself open, a full ten-meters wide and then some. Unlike the previous variant, the new updraft possessed ten-times the suction, forming a crackling, cyclonic vortex that tugged at the anchored huts, straightaway ripping the wooden humpies from their foundations. "Initiate Scry," he commanded the suite of magical diagnostics attached to his helmet. In awe, Hardin rapidly calibrated his device, successfully triangulating his optics until he caught sight of the caster. It was a girl. A mewling young miss and her university-age companions. A TEEN sorceress! A lass young enough to be his daughter! Quickly, the mercenary recalled the data provided by Cuzco. Gwen Song- Fudan's Ace. Hardin had been vaguely aware that Cuzco's foreign competitors had talented casters, but he had fought both Void Mages and Lightning Casters before and knew what to expect. As for his present reality— What in the name of the Apostles John, Paul and Luke was this Lightning Maelstrom? How was it possible that a university student could manifest a maximised, empowered, enlarged, and hybridised tier 6 Evocation?! Upon closer inspection, the damned girl wasn't even using a relic! Hardin cursed. Wasn't it only Inti who possessed such powers? How could a mortal girl match the faith of twenty-two million— "MOTHER FUC—!" Hardin tore the goggles from his face when a second sun blossomed across the eastern quadrant of the troll fort, expanding as a proliferate orb of light fifty-meters above the temple's eastern escarpment. The celestial sphere lasted ten-seconds, within the expanse of which all flammable things ceased to exist. Trolls caught in the blast became instantly black and charred. Those who shielded themselves under anything but the hardened stone properly cooked, the moisture seeping from their seared bodies as vessels burst and boiled. Wooden lean-tos disintegrated, humpies burst into flames. Wildland vegetation instantly turned to ash, falling from the stone fort's ancient facade. Lichen smouldered, mushrooms wilted, and the murals of blood painted by aeons of sacrificial rites oxidised into nothing. Sand, pebbles and other loose rubble melted into cracks and crevices, turning the surface into pockmarked glass. Hardin circulated what healing energies he had brought with him into his optic nerves, restoring his eyesight. When he regained his vision, the Troll fort, or at least the parts of it that were exposed, was consigned to history. A thousand Trolls, hundreds of warriors and God knows how many Shamans had perished. What remained was the temple itself, now appearing as a strange, two-sided construct. On the western elevation, it was as though the storms had vacuumed away all life. Only the stoutest trees remained embedded and leafless in the rock formations, while evidence of Trollic occupation had all but disappeared. On the eastern slope, the temple glistened, raw and a little runny like a smoked slab of brisket. From an epicentre, a dark ring of smoking stone, resembling those used in traditional cooking, blistered and boiled. No troll structures wrought of wood, mud or rock remained standing. Away from the blast, the Trolls that did survive the flashfire crawled in the ash, mangled and medium-rare, howling in unfathomable agony as their regeneration failed. Hardin decided he had to make a call. Inti's prowess was beyond his expectation, but the problem now was that he faced not one, but two Ace-Mages. Worse still, he knew from experience that while Inti's faith magic was quickly exhausted, the Void and Lightning sorceress had appeared unfatigued. "Sir." Hardin altered his voice, adding to the distortion of his long-range Message. "… instructor," came an annoyed response. "How goes our acolytes' lessons?" "Poorly," Hardin replied euphemistically. "I'll need more resources to keep these kids in line." "How much?" "ALL of it." "I see," came the reply. "In that case, I have good news." "What is it?" Hardin furrowed his brows. He had enough surprises. "You should inform the children that they need to be very careful between tonight and tomorrow…" "Because?" "Because the Blood Moon rises," the effeminate voice replied. "Tonight, the jungle will come alive." Ten-thousand flower-wreathed llamas crossed Hardin's mind as he cursed Amaru's family to burn in the deepest pits of hottest hell. "So, can Dark Water handle it?" "Of course." Hardin spat his next words between clenched teeth. "It will be done."

"Inti's no slouch," Gwen remarked as she surveyed the aftermath of the alpha-strikes. A movie quote came to mind, but she refrained from her Gwenisms. "Look at that." On the western slope, Fudan had done a bang-up job of erasing Trollic occupation. As for the eastern side, Inti's solar flare had eradicated all signs of the previous squatters. With exhibitions like that, it wasn't difficult to imagine why NoMs worshipped Mages as ready idols. "There's more hiding in the temple itself, in the underground chambers," Tei gave his evaluation. "The prince is impressive, but his Radiance possesses poor penetration. I prefer a well-trained Fire Mage. I bet if we had your VMI and Jiro's abilities, we could bake the temple like a clay oven. Let's see if anything survives that." "Low penetration, eh?" Gwen chuckled. "Someone must have forgotten to pass Gunther the memo." "Well- the Morning Star isn't your average virtuoso," Tei corrected himself. "He's one in a million, perhaps a billion?" "He's a decent bloke." Gwen batted a hand, waving an invisible handkerchief. "I heard he's a desk jockey now." Besides them, Petra snorted, imagining the great Gunther Shultz stuck behind a mountain of paperwork, fighting the urge not to burn it all. "EE! EE!" Ariel kneaded Gwen's thigh. "Good work, Buddy!" she kissed him on the nose. "Well done!" "How was the Maelstrom?" Petra tapped a data slate. "From one to five, how exhausting?" "Three?" Gwen reviewed the tier 6 AoE. "I guess sucking things into the Void and not consuming them isn't that bad. Toward the end, with those trolls, I'd say four? The effect isn't Sobel-tier." "…And how do you feel…" Petra tapped her forehead. "EE!" Ariel nuzzled Gwen's cheeks. "I am okay." Gwen buried her chin in her Kirin's mane. "There was neither distress nor pleasure. I guess Sobel's talent is unique, after all." "Just making sure." Petra saved the entry on her slate. "Right, shall we proceed with the next phase?" "We'll stand guard," Lulan and Rene both offered. "Cheers." Gwen gestured to a vacant lot that had once been a fishing port of sort. All the flimsy structure surrounding the inlet from the river had been wiped out, leaving a patch of unearthed vegetation, mud and debris. "We'll do it there." Tei was the first to alight, marking the earth with glyphs to establish a beachhead. Lulan hovered just above the team, her heart-seeking projectiles ready to snipe whatever dared to show its face. Beside her, Rene likewise readied a Lava Spear. Should something like a hidden tunnel open up close to the party, she could clog the entrance with a word. "I am beginning!" Gwen drew the usual mandala in the air, carefully invoking her magic to maximise her output. "… Morden's Hound Pack!" Eight lightning-clad draconic deerhounds emerged into the Material Realm. "…BloodHound!" They were soon joined by a ninth. "You can summon a pack of eight now?" Lulan inspected the lively dogs as they scented Gwen and her allies, licking their hands with paralysis-inducing tongues. "We've been fighting and training non-stop," Gwen recalled her coaching under Walken and Alesia with a wince. "I think I am very close to tier 6 Conjuration." "You were tier four when we met one and a half years ago," Petra pointed out. "Hahaha… yeah," Gwen passed off her cheat-like growth awkwardly. "Tier happens, you know?" While her hounds stood guard, she initiated a second variant. "… Morden's Hound Pack!" This time, her party gave her ample distance. Inch by crude-oil inch, eight slick Void Hounds emerged, each faceless beast possessing jaw-slits that encompassed more than half of their body length, propped up by skeletal legs, with segmented whippet-tails waving like rapiers. "Give me a second." Gwen steadied herself while her Essence circulated. Her tank wasn't running low, but eight pony-sized Void Hounds were enough to make any girl woozy. "… Blood Hound!" The alpha of the pack was a head taller than the rest, a magnificent obsidian fiend, smouldering motes of dissipating Void. "Ergh, so handsome." Gwen patted her big boy. The hound's head-carapace split, revealing four tongues amid rows of chainsaw teeth. Slobbering with glee, it gave her fingers a tongue bath. Petra measured a dog with her eyes, then prodded it so that it could open its mouth to be inspected. "Hmm… very nice," the Russian murmured contemplatively. "A five per cent increase... extra tongue..." "Hee-hee, that tickles." Lulan was a fan favourite, attracting the draconic dogs with her newly acquired Naga-scent. When she petted them, the hounds drooled, soaking her greaves. Rene suppressed a gag, waving the dogs away. Tei nodded appreciatively, glad he wasn't the only one. Their Void sorceress tended to warp the outlook of those caught in her orbit. "Buck, you take the left flank." Gwen motioned to the Void leader. "Gawrrr..." Buck mimed an alien bark, then commanded its pack to scour the ruins. "Astro! Right flank!" "WOOF!" The Lightning alpha led the way. "Are they sapient?" Tei raised a brow. "I thought they were shaped Elementals." "Naw, it's a dog thing," Gwen refuted the claim. "It's built into the spell. A smart dog has half the intelligence of a Gogo." "Yip! ARRROOOO!" "WOOF! WOOF-WOOF!" A hundred meters out, a mound of heavy stone erupted, revealing a Troll warrior who'd been doing its best to regenerate. Unlike Inti's victims, Gwen's survivors were at worst bruised and disorientated by being tossed about like rag-dolls. "ULOAR!" The warrior brandished a teeth-studded club. Unmoved by its frothing spittle, the party watched from a distance as Morden's Hounds performed their original duty. With a distended limb, the Troll swung at an agile hound, missing when the beast feinted, dodging the blow and forcing it off-balance. Instantly, the blue-white blurs assaulted its rear, tearing at its calves, acting as living tasers as they struck. "GARRK!" The Troll stumbled to its knees. "It's over." Lulan whistled as the foremost dog tore out the Troll's throat with a snarl, painting its electric muzzle with oxidising bronze. The party doubted the original spell had Gwen's efficacy. After all, it wasn't as though Morden possessed draconic Essence. "Is it going to regenerate?" Rene readied a fistful of cleansing fire. "Let the Void feast." Gwen motioned her second pack to move in. "Save your mana." True to her intent, the Void alpha reached the Troll's side. An unnatural sound of shifting bone resounded as its jaws distended, dislodging itself so that in one bite, the upper half of the Troll's twitching body joined the Void. "Mao!" The corner of Tei's eyes twitched when the rest of the Void pack shredded the remains. "Alright," Fudan's captain conceded to Gwen's show of force. "Let's clean up." With Gwen's dogs ferreting out the occasional Troll too foolish to retreat into the temple's interior, the party patrolled the western slope, hell-bent on picking up every spare CC, as well as purifying their future escape route. "Golos still up there?" "Yep." Gwen nodded. "Ariel's Maelstrom's better than I thought. Maybe we should have left some fun for Gogo, eh?" Before long, the team arrived at the foot of a gentle rise. From the western wall, the Temple City of Mama Killa began in earnest. Where Inti's eastern entrance held the Sun Gate, Fudan's side marked the Moon Gate. Between the walls and the tiered temple, there was a distance of over two kilometres, all of which held hidden perils. With half the structures burned and the other half vacuumed, some of its ancient glory was now visible to the visitors. Their immediate objective was a mid-tier entrance into the temple's underground catacombs, sealed with forgotten magic. Fudan's passage through the central boulevard, unfortunately, took them through dozens of underground granaries, each a shattered ziggurat converted into interconnected Trollic warrens. A direct flight was possible and at worst, Lulan and Rene would transmute their way into the vaults, but that would leave them vulnerable to becoming surrounded. On the other side, they were sure Inti likewise worked his way forward, purging the Trolls as a secondary objective. "Let's hope one of these things holds a Hag or the Chieftain," Gwen remarked as her dogs dragged yet another victim from under a cascade of rubble. This one was a tuskless labourer, lucky enough to survive the vortex, but not so her hounds. "We wouldn't want to fight either without room to manoeuvre." _TOOM—TOOM—TOOM—_ The sound of tolling war drums interrupted the butchery. Fudan quickly formed up as the stones throbbed and the ground shook. "Gogo, get ready," Gwen mentally commanded her drake. "If it's the chieftain, act as we've planned. Link Sight!" "EEe! EE!" Ariel, now aloft and acting the invisible spy satellite, reported commotion from beyond the crested hill. "It's coming from one of the smaller pyramids- ten O'clock." Gwen switched between her real eyes and drone-vision. "Cao, you're a one-woman army," Rene blustered. The Magma Mage had armed herself with no less than four self-buffs, but had yet to set fire to a single Troll. "Should I come back later?" "Ha, you wish." Gwen slapped her teammate's back. "Your real worth is when we're indoors. Chin up!" "AROOOOO!" "WoooOOO!" Her dogs scented the incoming enemies. "Ariel, stay." Gwen held her Familiar in check, taking in the battlefield from above. "Lulu, care for some exercise?" "Any time." Lulan's adorable smile betrayed her innate battle lust. "Iron Skin!" Though the Transmutation remained the same one the Sword Mage had always utilised, a layer of green-bronze now covered her skin, assuming a pattern of serpent scales. Lulan's pupils as well took on a jade-green sheen as five airborne blades, each enormous, hilt-less slabs of iron, materialised on either side. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. "Lucky Lulu." Tei smacked his lips. "To think a single Spirit could do so much." "A high-tier draconic Naga Spirit," Petra reminded their captain. "One extracted from a flawless Core." "Glad you like it. INCOMING!" Gwen opened her eyes. "Tei, any time now!" "SIX PILLARS!" Tei wasted no time in erecting an all-consuming pillar-barrier that impeded all forms of harmful sorcery. The defence was well-timed, for a mere two seconds later, a stench of rot and decay rolled over the party. "Cao! What is that?" Rene swatted at a glob of falling flesh, watching it sizzle as a Lava Blast sent the accused offal flying. Against Tei's dust-strewn barrier, blackened-blood splattered, hissing offensively. "Jackpot." Petra checked her data slate. "We've got a Hag! That was one of its signature spells. Bestiary says sacrificial blood is infused with Negative Energy to create flesh-eating necrosis." The team gave pause at Petra's tone; the Mineral Mage had spoken as if she had found a rare butterfly. "Tei, can we move the Pillars up?" "Slow and steadily." Tei shifted the foremost pillars up the avenue so that his coverage leap-frogged. "If we're not physically bested, it is doable." Outside the protective barrier, Gwen's dogs engaged the Troll-fodder released by the unseen Hag. A roving throng of tuskless slaves accosted her whelps, enraged and foaming at the lips, wielding make-shift armaments of teeth and stone. Gwen sent a mental message to Golos to stay put, then focused on relaying the conditions of the emerging battlefield. "I am going." Lulan turned to Tei. "Tomb Ward!" Fudan's captain bestowed a single-use charm onto his melee Mage. "Stay safe." Lulan nodded. "I'll draw them out of the underground." "I am going as well." Rene had been itching to work her magic. Tei planted another ward on their Magma Mage. "Then the three of us shall remain here. Don't forget to return if you're in danger." "Yes, Captain!" the girls affirmed Tei's advice. "Misty Step!" "Blink!" For Gwen, the bird's eye view made the bloody battle surreal- like she was playing a 90s real-time strategy game. With Tei's considerable turtling skills, she and Petra remained snug as a bug, nestled inside the Tomb Mage's shell. For now, at least, they were at a curious stalemate. The Hag could not reach them with long-range AoEs, while they had no desire to rush headlong into a trap. Though the tuskless Troll slaves were no match for her dogs, they still possessed significant threat as an enraged berserker-mob. With Ariel as her telepathic drone, she tactically applied her hounds, slicing into the slobbering mass surgically. With each Troll obliterated, her obsidian critters grew more substantial. In a moment, Lulan arrived, an impromptu whirlwind of green death, her chain-linked blades slicing a path into the Troll horde. Whenever an iron slab lodged inside the body of a frothing Troll, she discarded the spent razor, then summoning another to continue the slaughter. Behind Lulan, Rene cleaned up, paving the path below and around them with molten magma. Though the Mage lacked Seoul's bloodline talent, she was nonetheless an especially selected Transmuter for an international tournament, proving her prowess through fire and brimstone. With each swing of her arm, a glob of liquid fire engulfed a straggler or deflected an assailant from Lulan, showing herself equally adept at offence and defence. "Lulu, incoming." Gwen spotted the beginning of yet another volley from the hidden Hag. "It's an AoE, looks nasty as anything. Get out now!" The girls obliged, through Gwen's Void Hounds remained. When the spell struck, the acid cloud melted what remained of a dozen Trolls that had been disabled by iron and magma. Her Void Hounds smoked as they skittered through the devouring corrosion, ignoring the dosage. _TOOM—TOOM—TOOM—_ _WHAM!_ A stone slab slid from the entrance of a hidden warren. With an earth-shaking crash, it crumbled, spilling from the darkness a dozen warriors armed with darkly-gleaming obsidian, armoured with enchanted bark. Behind them, through Ariel's trained eyes, Gwen could spot a vaguely female figure giving out frenzied commands. From its gestures, the Hag had not enjoyed the slaughter of its slaves. A dim, red glow suffused the Troll warriors. Their collective mass appeared to double, then the troop broke into a run, making for Tei's pillars. With their long limbs, the berserkers closed the distance. "CONTACT!" Gwen called out. "HOUNDS! SIC 'EM!" Lulan Misty Stepped into the air, then let loose all five of her blades, launching the volley with a thrilling shriek of "Panzerschreck!" "Magma Wall!" Rene back peddled, shrinking from the charging horde, erecting no less than three offensive barriers. "ULOAR!" The Trolls arched their spring-like arms. Veins bulged, musculature ballooned, then they tossed their weapons. "TOMB SHIELD!" Tei gestured without delay. _Shreeee—THUNK!_ Lulan had made a mistake in lifting into the air, for she became a willing target. In the next moment, a near-supersonic spear shattered Tei's shield, exploding into fossilised fragments of hardened obsidian. _CLANG! BAAM!_ A second spear and then a club struck Lulan successively, the first clanging off her Parry, and the next striking her thighs, drawing a line of sparks before shattering against her Iron Skin. The weighty projectile exploded like a grenade, shredding the armour, exposing one thigh and deforming the scaled-flesh beneath. "Holy shit," Gwen spat. That was a close call. Had Lulan not attuned with a flawlessly extracted Earthen Sprite of hardened jadeite, her right leg would have painted Tei's dust wall. Lulan wiped a smidgen of blood from her lips. In her mind, the sword versus Troll exchange had gone swimmingly, for she had disabled no less than three warriors, pinning their howling bodies to the ground. "Don't do a Lulan," Tei cursed. "Rene! Get back here!" "Coming!" Rene reappeared an instant later. Unlike the battle-crazy Sword Mage, if she took a stone hammer to the gut, there may not be a body left to teleport back to Cuzco. As if flaunting her resilience, Lulan manifested new blades, then danced across to the Trolls' flank, dicing at limbs and throwing the occasional Heart-seeker into the group's midst. "Come on!" Gwen kept an eye on the Hag while adding some love of her own. "Lightning Storm!" A crash of thunder rolled over the mass of charging Trolls as her lightning Ice Storm manifested, pelting the warriors with arcing electricity. The berserkers, however, remained defiant to her elemental assault. Where her spell struck, their bark-armour sizzled in place of their bodies. "ULOAR!" "ULOAR!" "ULOAR!" Gwen swore. "HERE THEY COME!" The warriors had reached their prey; with a crash that near-dislodged one of Tei's pillars, a mass of flailing bodies compressed against Fudan's barrier. Swirling dust smouldered and dissolved as a band of frustrated, frenzied Trolls beat down the Six Pillars of Taishan, said to possess the power to hold back ten thousand Jiangshi. "Dust Tendrils!" Tei wasted no time in supplementing his wall with the vitality of his enemies. The Trolls meanwhile, moved out to surround the hexagon formed by the six-pillars, bashing at the anchors and the invisible dust-wall. "EEEEYAAAH!" Lulan's assault exploded as though an iron lotus, Misty Stepping above, below and beside her prey. Following her passage, tens of severed appendages twitched. Conversely. whenever Lulan suffered a blow to her iron-wrought body, there was the sound of clanging metal as the Troll's obsidian weapons shattered. Rene meanwhile, took advantage of their temporary invulnerability to gift the Trollic conga line with a river of churning, smouldering stones spilling from the ground, half-cooking the hapless Trolls while they exhausted Tei's barrier. "ULOAR!" The Trolls were no less frantic than Fudan's Mages in churning out as much damage as possible. Within seconds, a pillar crumbled, reducing Fudan's shelter. A triumphant roar echoed from Troll to Troll, then a viridescent flow of healing energies enveloped the hooting mob, renewing their vigour. A few of the trolls who Lulan had made bereft of limbs even sprouted new ones. "B'lyad'! Regeneration and restoration!" Petra cursed. "AND they're resisting Lightning and Magma! Should we use Cloud Kill?" "Not until the old witch takes the bait." Gwen sent a mental command to her dogs. "Buck! Astro! Bring me the Hag's head!" A dozen of her dogs broke from the pack of warriors, forming two streams — her alphas, one blue-white, the other crow-black, sped toward the temple entrance. "Incoming DECAY!" Tei steeled his pillars with yellow Fudas as a second round of the Hag's demi-human magic landed. "Lulu, get back!" "Arrrgh!" A squall of black blood slipped past Lulan's Parry. Her one-time Fuda dissolved at once. Her Shen-tei armour sizzled, exposing her Iron Skin to the corrosive hunks of dark flesh. A chunk struck her exposed thighs, corroding her flesh almost to the bone. "M-Misty Step!" She reappeared inside the barrier, a detox injector in hand. Willing away her Iron Skin for the briefest second, she stabbed herself, then grunted as the influx fought off the Negative Energy. Rene let loose the two-meter ball of Magma she had been constructing above the Trolls, then turned to her companion. "Lulu, are you alright?" "Hold on." Petra materialised a nephrite Spell Cube. "Knit Flesh!" "TAMAAADE!" Lulan howled, forcing herself upright. On one shoulder, a piece of her armour had been corroded down to the Saurian leather straps. As for her ruined thigh, all she could manage was a moan as her muscles rejuvenated. "I knew that would come in handy." Petra inspected her work. "Gwen?" "Almost!" came the response from their vice-captain. "Fucking bitch! I'll get this old Hag yet." Up ahead, her dogs surged into the temple proper. "WOOF! WOOF!" "GRRRR!" "YIP!" One of her dogs, a lightning deerhound, perished without so much as a chance to dodge, catching Gwen by surprise. The rest of her dogs bolted from the interior, informing Ariel that the inner chamber was a narrow tunnel that made pack-tactics impossible. That and there was a huge stinking heap of befouled flesh blocking their way. "ULOAR! Ashmasarg!" From the darkness emerged an ungainly giant, thrice the size of an already enormous troll. "What the fuck?! They have the HULK?!" Gwen spluttered when the green-skinned colossus emerged into the light. In one hand, it carried a dark iron club larger than Gwen from toe to torso. In its off-hand, it equipped a shield studded with dagger-like spikes. Its entire body sported thick plates of aged leather, painted with strange sigils in Trollic. "Pats, there's a copy-right violation!" "A Brutaliser." Petra ignored Gwen's insensible splutterings. "Harass it with your dogs. Maybe Golos can take care of it?" Gwen hesitated, tempted by the suggestion. _CRACK!_ Another one of Tei's pillars collapsed, turning their safe-space into an irregular rectangle. "Tei?" "Let's move with Formation D," her captain gave the command. "Gwen, you're with me. We'll regroup on the hill and get LOS on the Hag. Leave these Trolls a souvenir." "Right! Cloud Kill time," Gwen agreed, passing command of her dogs to Ariel. She then disabled her Link Sight, then placed a hand on her captain's shoulder. "Petra, Rene, Lulu, ready?" "Ready!" Petra withdrew two cubes at once. "Dimension Door!" "Dimension Door!" "Blink!" "Misty Step!" As one, the party reappeared fifty meters away, now nestled atop an abandoned ziggurat. Tei's pillars collapsed at once. Where the Trolls had been beating on Fudan's defences from all sides, they now fell into the centre. Dozens of obsidian armaments swung at empty air, crushing the weather-worn cobblestone. Troll warriors stumbled, falling over one another, too enraged to relocate their prey, so incensed by the Hag's frenzy magic that Gwen was sure that the red-eyed fiends would momentarily fall upon one another. "CLOUD KILL!" echoed cries issued from the girls' lips. "LAVA WALL!" Rene followed up as practised, encircling the pack in a circle of smouldering lava taller than Gwen. Twin-eruptions of noxious smog, flare-filled and flaming with ionised pyrite, exploded across heaving green bodies, igniting as the vapour kissed the sulphurous air. "GARRRK!" "Glogzag hakungs!" "Athrietess, ashavuth lugs!" Incoherent howls burst from the flaming mound as the Trolls failed to flee, filling their lungs with inextinguishable fire. Though their armour and their scabby dermis provided ample protection against the elements, rarely did Abjuration shield the organs of a living being. It was one of the chief reasons why Cloud Kill remained restricted magic, for whether Mages or monsters, neither proved immune to the loss of one's respiratory system. Caught under a flame-wreathed sea, the Trolls floundered as though in quicklime, choking and guttering and coughing fire. "Gudiots!" Came a cry from the inside the abandoned side-temple. In the next moment, the Hag emerged, wielding spells of healing in one hand and invocations of decay in the other. Beside the spindly female figure, the Brutaliser stood as her stalwart defender. "There she is!" Petra maintained her borrowed magic. Gwen recoiled at the sight of the fabled Hag. From a distance, the monster's gnarly feminine physique sported dreadlocked hair that ran the length of its bowed spine. Horrifically, its nude body was caked in a layer of dried blood in the texture of festering bruises. Immodestly, its lower body was a mess of twigs, cloth, leather and utensils wrought from severed limbs and pilfered digits. When the Hag opened its mouth to speak, a slithering tongue distended, milky with pus. "Golos!" Gwen commanded her Planar Ally. Her Wyvern confirmed its trajectory. "Duccusemar gunvaders!" The monster shrieked as its followers burned. Then to Gwen's surprise, it screamed at her party in ancient Quechua. "By the Heart of the Wood, your intestines will wreath the trees! Gulorrifzag!" A burst of Negative Energy erupted from the Hag. From what Gwen could see, the creature was drawing vitality from her guardian, the monster known as the Brutaliser. "PILLAR WARD!" Tei recognised the incoming debuff. Whatever happened now, they would have to weather the assault, hoping the barrier held for the duration of the incoming incantation. "It's a Curse! Stay CALM and DON'T MOVE! WATCH FOR FRIENDLY FIRE!" Gwen countered by filling her conduits with Essence. Her lips worked her next spell furiously, as did her hands, simultaneously informing Golos that the time had ripened for its grand entry. The Curse struck. Fudan's Mages simultaneously lost all vision. Curses, also known as Hexes, were different from Spellcraft in that while traditional magic invoked phenomena to assault the mind or the body; Curses besieged one's spirit. It was a class of Magic unique to demi-humans and utilised only by Mages born from select bloodlines. Though counterspells to Hex Magic existed, the official solution involved preventative Faith Magic, or Positive Mind Mages specialised in dispelling, a rare bird in any wood. Either way, anti-Hex Spellcraft wasn't something a godless communist country could provide. According to Petra, Fudan's only solution was to rely on first-strike doctrines and third-party defenders like Familiars, Summons or Allies. In the bewitching darkness, a stark fear consumed Fudan's frail, human hearts. Each caster felt a quickening horror that, if left unchecked, would turn to madness. "Shit!" Gwen fought back with a feeling of complete futility. "GOLOS! DO IT NOW!" Within the interiority of her mind, she saw her family in Shanghai suddenly perishing by unknown powers. She saw her uncle Jun, his face a mask of anguish, mouthing strange, incomprehensible accusations. She saw Percy, his eyes bulging and his face bloated, floating across fetid water, she saw Babulya— "CALAMITY!" A fulminating roll of thunder woke her from the cascading horror. Gwen opened her eyes, as did her team. Their vision had suddenly returned, the Curse lifted. A line of charred stone, cracked from both the roaring lightning and the violent passage of her Wyvern, marked the boulevard from one end to the other, interceding with a Brutaliser spluttering ichor, its shield and chest concaved by a terrific blow from a Wyvern tail. As for the Hag, it now decorated the path leading up the temple steppes. For all the monstrous female's unholy command of life and decay, it was no match for the force of a Thunder Wyvern's full-forced strike. Against the relentless physics of a multi-ton draconic-brute obliterating its body, dragging it face-first some hundred meters over coarse, jagged rubble: the Hag was little more than a greasy meat-crayon. "Nice work, Gogo!" Gwen cried out. "VOID SPHERE!" She muted the surviving Bruitaliser. Before it recovered, ink-blots exploded across its battered body, consigning its indestructible flesh to the Void.

Gwen told Golos to remain in a holding pattern until he was needed once more. A brute without magical finesse, her Wyvern was little more than a resistant meat shield when indoors, one with at most three shots of Lightning Breath. "I'll be around," Golos grunted, flashing a Storage Ring where the head of the 'Desecrator Hag' now rested as a souvenir, then took to the sky. "The dogs don't give near as much as Caliban," Gwen observed the colour of her hands, watching the pallid flesh turn pink as her vitality returned. The Brutaliser was an enormous store of life, likely force-fed by the Hag to serve as a sort of Necromancy-battery. "Take more time if you need it." Tei performed a quick Taoist rite so that the bodies of the two-dozen odd Troll warriors could no longer be raised from the dead. With a Necromancer only a kilometre away, Fudan's captain left no uncertainties uncovered. "Nah, I am good, let's head up." Gwen warmed her fingers. "Lulu, how about you? You're looking worse for wear." Lulan's injury was healed, but she had no patience for the slow restoration of her tattered suit. With a conjured blade, she had cut away the ungainly, damaged portions of her armour, ensuring that somewhere, an Enchanter wept. The result was that the Sword Mage appeared eclectic, covered from ankle to chin, but also exposed where her left shoulder, right thigh, and abdomen was concerned. "Kusu is going to freak." Gwen tidied up Lulan's ponytail, then asked Petra to take a picture. "Lulu, you're going to be an idol." "Why?" Lulan paid no heed to her exposure. "More is less; less is more." Gwen studied her companion's innocent face. "I'm keen for more! It feels so good to use my new skills." Lulan slapped her thigh, affecting an affectionate _Clang!_ "Don't forget your promise to your folks back home." Gwen pointed upward, reminding Lulan of the ever-present Eye of Providence. "Know what. Now's a good time. Want to do it here?" "Ah." Lulan flushed. The Sword Mage then rigidly turned to face an imaginary lumen-recorder. "Comrades! I AM LULAN LI! I hail from the Sect of Huashan! If you wish to learn our skills, please put in an application for our Outer Sect! We welcome all magically-inclined citizens! Bring your Hukou when applying!" Lulan Li, now "Outer Sect" elder, made a ninety-degree bow. "Tei?" "I'll pass." Her captain sweated just watching Lulan pitch her sale. Her lines were cringe-worthy that death might be preferable for the proud Tomb Guardian of Clan Tei. "Suit yourself." Gwen likewise faced Lulan's invisible camera. In the background, she made sure that the pile of Trolls, her hounds, and Ariel all remained in view. "Dear viewers, if you like to take advantage of this wonderful opportunity to sponsor one of our team members, you may contact the House of M, or our representative, Ruì Lee, at our Fudan office. Limited ad-spots for product placements will be auctioned after the first round in early October. Have confidence that we will bring your company or your Clan to the world stage..." "EE EE!" Ariel struck a pose, capturing a picture-perfect Kodak moment. Tei thanked the Great Leader when the team finally moved on. From the sounds and the flashes of light still raging on the western slope, they guessed that Inti's party was fighting an uphill battle. As for Gwen's party, all that was left was to find the entrance into the catacombs, then find out if South American Fongshui favoured pupils from Fudan. Hardin Smith never realised that he could sweat so much while wearing climate-cooled Magitech armour. In the past two hours, his tentacle goggles ran diagnostics across the proceedings, recording all objects of interest for Dark Water's clients. His left eye was set to Scry over the Shanghai party, while his right eye was set for Cuzco. In the last few hours, he had witnessed Chinese Clanner Magic, mysterious spell cubes, eighteen Morden's hounds and two Cloud Kills decimating close to a hundred Trolls. When confronted by a Hag, a fucking Wyvern showed up out of the blue and transformed the Troll-witch into roadkill. Then, as Cuzco's diagnostic data displayed on his Divi-device, Hardin once more denounced the duplicitous Amaru. The female Shaman known as Kusi had been noted on his data set as an "Indigenous User of Necromancy," a term usually denoting those whose religious rites involved draining mana and life from the dying. What Amaru had not relayed was that the girl raised the fucking dead. "KREEEEEEE!" On the eastern slope, a banshee's wail resounded, creeping under Hardin's multi-layered armour to cover his arm with goosebumps. In Hardin's mechanised eyes, the competition had become a who's who of horrors. His right lens triple-zoomed, focusing on the walking aberration now laying waste to the Trolls. The undead fiend had doubtlessly once been a Harpy and a rare variant at that. The most salient aspect of the corpse was its wings, two enormous fans in vivid scarlet, attached to elongated arms. Where the Harpies usual sported feminine, female bodies, this thing was a husk of its former self, with sunken eyes and a smashed nose. Where it once must have been luxuriously dressed in multi-coloured feathers, it was now near-naked, its pallid goose skin turning Hardin's stomach. Already, a dozen Trolls, warriors and labourers alike, had fallen prey to its aural assault. As for those who managed to close the distance, the skinny, feathery corpse proved immensely powerful, capable of cutting a warrior in twain with a single swing of its scything feathers. "ULOAR!" A Troll grew in stature, receiving the benediction of a nearby shaman. Its javelins struck the Undead Harpy, though the effect was negligible. "RADIANT STRIKE!" Inti finished his tier 5 Evocation staple within a second. Where the Shaman took shelter, the fort's interior glowed like a furnace, spewing forth a vivid, orange light. The Troll Warrior charged, knowing its buff wouldn't last. "KREEE!" The undead bird-woman met the warrior halfway, launching itself so that even as the Troll struck its sides in an attempt to crush its spine, the Harpy latched onto its body. "Guluo!" the Troll panicked, pulling at the fiend attached to its arm. Opening its jaws, it bit the Harpy, gnawing at the creature's neck with jagged, ivory tusks. "GARRRK!" Hardin watched as the thing's vitality readings tanked. As with its forerunners, the Troll grew suddenly feeble as its eyes turned glassy. Beep! Beep! A warning flashed on Hardin's spectrometer. "Jesus Christ, what kind of freaks are they letting in these days," Hardin swore. "A fucking Soul Eater?!" A Soul Eater was a tier 6 undead which, when fed the Essence of the living, could rapidly grow in power, well-exceeding the higher tiers. In nations where the Undead Fronts plagued human cities; Blood Lords, Soul Eaters, Corpse Collectors and Death Knights made the "most loathed" monster list. Unlike regular Undead, these creatures possessed unpredictable powers and voracious temperaments. An unlucky party hunting a Soul Eater, for example, could find themselves potentially overwhelmed, becoming its nourishment and adding to the danger tier. A novice Necromancer controlling a Soul Eater was walking a fine line between power and self-destruction. Not far from the dying Troll, a half-cooked Shaman crawled from an abandoned granary; its skin burned clean off. The Necromancer known as Kusi raised a shrunken head, this one made from a Troll's corpse, and drained the charred corpse of its remaining life. "KiiiYEEE!" the Soul Eater wailed at its caster, trapped in a permanent state of unceasing agony. Another one of Cuzco's Mages, a lycanthropic Transmuter with the Spirit of an Andes Puma, blocked the Eater's trajectory to its master. This one Hardin recognised as Musi, sister to the Necromancer. Behind her kin, Kusi raised a second shrunken relic, a human head glowing with a sickly, purple radiance. With incantations Hardin couldn't lip-read, she compelled obedience from her monster. The Harpy corpse shuddered, tearing at the feathers on its body even though there was none left to pluck. Its red wings bled, wet with a sheen of weeping gore as it faced the temple. With its back hunched, the once majestic mistress of the air trudged forward, an earth-bound raptor. Hardin chewed his lips in contemplation, scanning the temple for dangers that could waylay the prince. So far, after the Hag Fudan had bested, he had seen no sight nor hide of the Chieftain, nor the Arch Hag. Hardin considered his options. His HUD showed that it was 1635. A counter he had set for the Blood Moon noted that the phenomenon wouldn't reach its zenith until midnight. From the looks of the parties' progress, neither would enter the inner sanctum before tomorrow morning. Until then, perhaps he could add a little trouble to the mix for Cuzco to enjoy. Kusi's Soul Magic, from what he could see, was a bastardised Necromantic manifestation. In Eastern Europe, The Black Priests could raise vast armies in a matter of hours. Had Kusi possessed an ounce of a true Corpse Mage's skills, she would now be neck-deep in Giant Skeletons or at least protected by a troop of Troll-Ghasts. Unlike traditional Mages, Necromancers thrived on death and destruction, growing stronger as the corpses piled up. It was one of the main reasons cities taken by the Undead rarely held survivors. Necromancers were without peer in protracted siege-scrums. Hardin likewise knew that Undead creations were bound to a Necromancer's Astral Soul. There was no need for things like relics to command one's pawns, for Undead servants were loyal to a fault. From what he could see, Kusi's magic was entirely based on indigenous lore. If he could destroy her implements, then, what would happen to the necromantic energies therein? More importantly, what would happen to her well-fed Soul Eater? Hardin couldn't help but let a smile touch his lips. If Inti could perish by Kusi's fuck up, thereby engendering a civil war between Amazonia and Cuzco, he would surely become Operator of the Year. "Gwen, we're here." Petra checked their map. "This is it." Behind the two girls, a semi-circle of hounds stood guard, wary of Trolls emerging from secret alcoves or hidden entrances. According to the map, the party had arrived at the main temple. Unfortunately, its once splendid facade had been torn down, repurposed by the Trolls or destroyed by the team's earlier AoE. "Pats, any ideas?" Gwen patted the stone door, its murals long erased by wind, sun, Trolls and creeper plants. Her cousin checked the wards. "Hmm... I think the source is dead." "Dead?" Gwen cocked her head. "The power's gone, scrapped off, dispelled. The door's just a slab of stone now." "Shit," Gwen grumbled. A closed door with ruined magic meant that whatever was hidden behind it was likely looted. "Allow me." Lulan cracked her knuckles. "SHAPE STONE!" The massive slab warped, the stone shifted, forming a strange, vertical gash the likeness of parting curtains. "Someone's used this entrance already," Tei observed. "Not surprising. I guess. The wards used by the Incan people are neither Dwarven or Elven. Human Enchantment rarely outlasts two decades. It has to do with our relatively short lives. Since there's a coven here, they likely corroded the foundations. I think we were too optimistic with the whole untouched treasure concept." Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Within, the room consisted of a pitch dark interior, unmoved even by the light from the unconventional entrance. Tei motioned for Gwen's hounds. Gwen nodded. "Buck! You're up!" Her Void Hounds slinked in. "Gawrrr!" Buck made a sound akin to a throaty cough. "The coast is clear." Gwen received the paw-up from Ariel. "Alright." Tei turned to his team members. "Buff up! Marching Order: Void Alpha, Lulu, me, Gwen, Petra, Rene, Lightning Alpha." "You boys stay here and guard the entrance," Gwen informed her hound pack. "It's too tight for pack tactics. They can join us later, or I can D-D them in." The inside proved tighter than her dogs could arguably discern, for when Gwen and company did finally enter, the passageway was barely five foot tall. "Interesting." Petra pointed to the stacked and slotted stonework. "I think I know how this works. The stones perfectly fit but aren't mortared, meaning manipulation will collapse the structure. Meanwhile, its too short and narrow for Trolls to fight properly, while still large enough to invite them inside so that the small stature of the Inca can utilise spears or long-range spells. For Trolls at least, the entry can serve as a death trap." The party sent down a flood of Dancing Lights. The entrance's interior was spartan and utilitarian, forming a passage that led forward and downward, coiling to the right. "Buck" led the way, prowling effortlessly, sniffing for signs of life. Gwen and Petra became hypothetical Trolls, having to bend their bodies until they were shuffling like apes. _PUTHOK!_ A stone spear emerged from the wall, piercing Buck. "Aroooough?" Buck snorted, then continued. "An articulated mechanism?" Gwen inspected the passage wall. "Careful," Tei stopped their amateur Enchanter from putting her face to the Glyph. "A Conjuration glyph set to proximity." Petra erased the magic with a glowing hand. "It's crude and common in ruins like this." "Next thing you know, there'll be a giant boulder, and we'll all run for it!" Gwen joked. "I will cut this boulder in half," Lulan asserted confidently. "Unless it is a boulder of darkened steel or Adamantium, in which case, we can sell it for money." "You can probably fit the rock into your Storage Ring," Rene joked. "Boulder traps are so primitive." "Lulu," Petra derailed the train of thoughts. "Adamantium isn't naturally occurring. It's an alloy made by the Dwarves. Unless there's a Dwarven city down here, it's going to worthless boulders." "Okay, forget I said anything," Gwen sulked. Indiana Jones in this world would have to contend with the Mines of Moria. The party continued. A dozen traps put Buck through every form of torture; wall spikes, crushing mallets, a pitfall, and a pile of dead vermin that, when alive, would have made Gwen void the Dungeon. After what must have been several hundred metres, the party sensed a slight breeze that stirred the stale air. "Gawrrr!" Buck interrupted their conversation. "Contact!" Gwen translated in place of Ariel. Her Familiar lacked punch as a dog-sized ferret, while its Kirin form was too big for teamwork in the tunnel. "Link Sight," Gwen whispered. "Buck, go!" The hound flattened its body, then sped forward as a black blur with stiletto legs skittering against the smooth stone. With eyes attuned to Caliban-vision, Gwen immersed herself, hoping the exit wasn't too far. Different to her Familiars, Link Sight had limited range when used on creatures she conjured temporarily. The tunnel ended abruptly, opening into the catacombs. The ceiling was now a cavern of at least three or more storeys, roofed with conic stalactites. The hound's immediate surroundings were equally spacious, enough to fit a dozen Trolls from shoulder to shoulder. And speaking of Trolls, her Vitality-VR quickly spotted the hunting party hiding in the shallow pools of dark water. In her Void fiend's life-sensing vision, the Trolls appeared as incandescent figures of light. "ULOAR!" Buck was a terrible actor. When it began to salivate uncontrollably, the Trolls knew their stone-form disguises had failed. As one, the warriors leapt from cover to abuse Gwen's dog. Up in the tunnel, Gwen grew instantly upset. "If Buck dies, the new deerhound won't have the same memories," she explained. "I am going to help, but we shouldn't put all our eggs in one basket, volunteers?" "I'll go." Lulan raised her hand. "Be careful not to destroy the cavern," Tei reminded her. "No environmental AoEs. No sonic spells. Rene, get ready to reinforce the cavern if it starts to collapse. Petra, you help as well." "Got it," the girls replied. "Join me in five seconds!" Gwen commanded Ariel to get ready. "Dimension Door!" When Gwen materialised with the newly released Ariel, Buck had already been beaten out of shape. As a Void beast, it had no sensation for pain, and unlike her lightning hounds, its usual tactic involved consuming enemies so that its foes died while it regenerated. This time, the six or so Troll warriors and their Shaman had the dog well-pinned. After a well-aimed blow disabled its legs, the rest of the warriors pummeled Buck like a side of black mochi. "Ushhuth glogagioz lugser!" The Shaman was the first to notice the dog's owner. The warning came too late, for Gwen had finished her invocation. "Chain Lightning!" "EEE!" Ariel acted as the power recycler. The dark cavern grew momentarily brighter than mid-day. From Troll to Troll, an arm-thick cord of raw plasma traversed, overpowering the creatures' resistance to fry their nerves, causing an eruption of flesh where latent energies escaped from yielding bodies. Gwen was once again impressed. Walken's signature spell was made for occasions such as this. Her only regret was that after a mere two revolutions, the spell grounded itself. "Elemental Sphere!" But Gwen's incantations were quick. A second blast rang out, enveloping the paralysed Trolls, then striking them again with a nova flash. "HEEEEYAH!" Lulan Misty Stepped in, a green blaze of swirling blades, slicing and dicing as she charged the Shaman. "Ashtazag duway!" the Troll caster cried out in panic, throwing up a fistful of bones to erect a barrier. Lulan crashed through the bone wall and pinned the Troll so that it appeared as though a giant bug specimen. With two broad strokes of "Sweep!", she severed its limbs, then its head, leaving a twitching torso to remain impaled on her hilt-less slab. "Eat up." Gwen channelled a bit of her vitality so that her Void hound recovered. All of the Trolls were alive. Usually, it meant trouble. For Fudan, it implied Buck could restore what the bastards had taken. Buck's body unmangled itself, then went about the business of replenishing it and Gwen's vitality. "Good work." Tei descended with Rene and Petra. Rene reinforced the cavern regardless, using her Magma to form hardened pillars, conjoining the roof and the floor. "Where do you think this place leads?" "Hopefully, the storage area." Tei likewise had no idea. "I was wondering how the Inca could build such enormous underground structures. Having tunnels that lead to a natural cavern makes far more sense." "I read that the Incan gods dwell in Hanan Pacha, a small pocket dimension adjacent to the Material Realm," Gwen annotated from her guide, ignoring her tingling innards as Buck feasted. "According to lore, the inter-dimensional gate between Hanan Pacha and our world can be found in lakes and caverns." "You think this is one of them?" Tei remarked as more Dancing Lights dispelled the dark. "Look, I see a Quipu, it's rotted, but you can make out the remains. Can anyone read it?" Unfortunately, not even Gwen's Translation Stone could translate the strange knot-language called Quipu. "Still, seems like we're in the right place." Petra made notes. "Shall we?" "Gwwwargh!" Buck barked, finishing off a Troll. "Woof!" Astro agreed. "EE ee!" Ariel joined in. "Gulelus—" a Troll's last words were cut off. "Alright," Tei again commanded the party. "Marching orders." "How are you feeling?" Petra noted flushing cheeks. "Like Lulu said..." Gwen brimmed with excessive, bright-eyed energy. "I can do this all day!" "Let us rest and recuperate." Inti wrung a fistful of sweat from his brow. Unlike Fudan, what had awaited the Cuzco party after Kusi's Soul Slave opened the Gate of the Sun was an ambush involving a Hag and at least a dozen Troll Warriors, backed by two Shamans and a Brutaliser. Inti immediately exhausted the collated faith his relic stowed, stunning the war band with an all-enveloping blast of Radiance. While the Trolls writhed and howled, Kusi and Musi set to work on the Hag, attempting to destroy the Trolls' support caster before it could turn the tide of battle. The Hag, unexpectedly, had provisioned for Inti's magic. Its Brutaliser guard acted as a meat-shield, preventing it from being blinded. With one hand, it instantly raised a shower of black blood to fall on Inti's party, while the other wrung vitality from her guardian to restore her warriors. Against the decay, Mallqu intervened, performing a cleansing rite to abjure the black blood melting Tupaq's earthen shield. A chaotic melee ensued. Musi transformed into a wildcat, slashing up Trolls as she harassed the Hag, darting in and out of range of the Brutaliser's teeth-studded club. Kusi, meanwhile, commanded both her Blood Harpy slave and a newly risen Troll warrior to keep the rioting horde at bay. From the temple's interior, the combat spilt into the open, then back into the chamber, then out again when the Hag opened up with the magic of decay. When finally the Hag unleashed its Curse, Inti made his move, filling the air with such an aura of radiant awe that all who bore witness to his glamour paid no heed to the black magic of the Trollic witch. With Tupaq defending and the undead pets whittling down the warriors, Musi eventually took down the Hag, severing her head to prevent spell-casting, rending its body with her flesh-eating daggers. The battle felt forever, though Inti knew their labour couldn't have lasted more than half-an-hour. When Kusi siphoned the last Troll, the prince had exhausted his magic, the same with his party. It was only the Soul Slaves that became stronger, feasting on the Essences of the fallen. "This will do nicely." Musi toyed with the head of the Hag, passing the trophy to Kusi. "A magic-user slave could be very helpful. With enough Essence, I can activate the Curse of Ch'aska." Inti gave his consent, too tired to argue. "Don't get carried away. In two hours, I need to perform the dusk ritual, and come the next morning; I'll need an hour for the Rite of the Sun." Musi mocked her future consort with a demeaning smirk, attracting unpleasant glares from Tupaq. "Enough of your cheek. Set your slaves to guard us," Tupaq commanded the girls. "Do not forget that without Cuzco, your tribe would have perished; if not to the Trolls, then the Spaniards." "You're noisier than a llama's ass," Musi snarled, hissing like a cat. "Sister, peace," Kusi checked her sibling. "Sir Tupaq is correct." "Nevermind that," Inti interrupted his crew. "Fudan must be laughing at us right now. Remember, the proctors are watching all of our actions. Do not embarrass us. Cuzco, the Shuar, all who hail from the four Suyus are our family." Inti watched Kusi's face as the girl turned away. In the event of their union, the Soul Priest would be his officious concubine, but it was Musi who would have to carry his child. Despite the ancient wisdom of the Shuar's craft, the side-effects of Negative Energy remained immutable. To that end, he understood the girls' antagonism. As a man, he had no desire to win the girls, but as a King, it was his duty. Without interest, Mallqu found an empty spot, then laid herself down to sleep. "If only all of the Antis could be as wise and cultured as the Jivaroan," Tupaq mumbled. The girls said nothing. Manipulating her shrunken relics, Kusi set the guards, then retreated to a corner to meditate on the day ahead. Condor's Rise. A swimming sun slowly plunged into the jagged horizon. Inside the stone fort, the Proctors had been arguing unceasingly about the match. From Fudan's Wyvern one-hitting the Hag to Inti's all-searing AoE, the proctors fell into a buzz of passions. Cuzco's match was one that took place between two low-ranked universities, but the destructive power demonstrated by both teams had reached at least the semi-finals. It was a great boon, for grand spectacles made for good lumen-casts, which translated into additional influence for the IIUC. "Don't you think our Void Sorceress and our Indigenous Necromancer are similar?" a Proctor was proposing a hypothesis. "Nothing of the sort." Auberon snorted. "For one, Gwen is far easier on the eyes—" "Sir!" Lucy intervened. "Magister Sakmann warned you about this…" "You're mistaken." Auberon sipped his Earl Grey. An Englishman might be up to his neck in competitive sorceresses wielding sinister magic, but tea time was sacred. "Take a biscuit, Miss Pritchard. I am speaking in relative terms, but it is undeniable that our colonial sorceress makes for a good show, hmm?" "I'll drink to that," another proctor agreed. "Her... display is sure to please." A few of the women rolled their eyes. "It's true, Lucy." "Sir..." "I am serious. Gwen's Void Beasts, Wyvern, Kirin, and that phallus she calls Caliban, they're impressive. And most importantly, they're exotic, or alien, or downright terrifying. Compared to a bleeding Soul Eater, which one would you rather see on vid-cast?" "Miss Song, I suppose." "That's right, Lucy." Auberon was in a lecturing mood. "Do you know why she enjoys such popularity despite her creature's aberrant exterior?" "Is it because of Miss Song's beauty?" "That too, but not my point, Miss Pritchard. Shame on you! It's because the Void critters are utterly foreign, you see? Out of this world. Completely obscene. We don't mind them after an initial fright, because they're exotic tools." "Sir?" "BUT the Undead, Good Lord!" Auberon replaced his cup with a clink. "You ever killed a man, Miss Pritchard." "I can't say I haven't. I was in the service when the Suez incident happened." "Yes, very good." Auberon smiled sympathetically. "Terrible affair, that one. My condolences. You recall how when someone's newly dead and the bundles of stuff come out, where even though you're behind the Abjurers, there's still a desire to be sick?" Lucy paled. "It's the same reason we are naturally averse to Necromancy," Auberon said. "It is human empathy that makes us sick- you see? We don't like to look death in the face. Why in God's name would we want to look at Undeath in the face? All are equal when the reaper comes calling. That's why Miss Kusi makes for terrible Vid-casts, you see. People don't want to acknowledge the possibility that death isn't the final frontier, that their spirit may never rest. Do you see?" "I see, Sir." "Kenneth, you were saying the girls were similar?" "I was, Lord Lucas," the proctor called Kenneth replied. "Both are trying to prove that their magic is beneficial rather than something that should be caged. Now I see that they are different." "Indeed." Auberon slathered a scone for the shivering Lucy. "Keeping malignant forces under control is never as easy as it looks. Either of our sorceresses—" "SIR!" A proctor pulled a vid-cast across to the central display. "Something's happened to Inti's party! I think their Soul Eater has been untethered from the Necromancer's relic!" "Speak of the devil…" Auberon commanded another proctor to keep an eye on the diagnostics. "Who is it? Fudan? Are they responsible?" "No sir, Fudan is still fighting." A proctor pointed to yet another monitor. "I think we may have an intruder." "Oh, truly?" Auberon reviewed the footage. On the real-time projection, Cuzco's party was beating a swift retreat from their undead pets. The Troll straight away fled into the temple's depth, while the Harpy appeared dead-set on murdering its master. "Politics?" "Looks like it, sir." Another proctor brought up the mana-spirometer, while a second machine furiously spat out a script that recorded Divination readings surrounding the contestants. "There! A spike! Looks like Illusion and Transmutation, my Lord." "Record everything." Auberon turned his attention back to the screen. "You know, when this happens in England, at least Brussels gets passed a note. How droll." "SIR!" another proctor spoke up. "There's something else." "What is it now?" "I am recording massive energy readings in the Questing region. They read like shielding signals." Auberon fell silent. "Lord Lucas?" "Yes, Miss Ashley?" Auberon peeled the crispy bits from his scone. "Just received word from Cuzco Tower - there's going to be a Blood Moon tonight." The proctors collectively inhaled a breath of humid, Amazonian air. "Politics it is then." Auberon exhaled, smiling to assure his team. "Carry on." "We're doing nothing, Sir?" "We'll teleport out when we need to," Auberon considered the man's inquiry. "Beast Tides are no joke, you know." "The contestants…" "One side's on the receiving end, and the other can fly out on a Wyvern. I wouldn't worry." The Chief proctor was the very model of professionalism. "Keep calm and carry on, lads and lasses. My order stands, oh, and Miss Lucy?" "Sir?" "A fresh brew, if you please. The good tea. We'll be in for a long night."

* * * Chapter Ref :: Bonus :: Gwen's Outfits Glossary and Magic System :: Glossary Discord Server is UP ALSO THE WIKI! https://metaworld-chronicles.fandom.com/wiki/Metaworld_Chronicles_Wiki Voting for the novel :: Voting button ** ****Volume 1 Amazon (US) the book is in all markets as well. ****Volume 1 Paper Back Link (US, Japan and most of Europe) ****Google Play, iBook, Kobo, Nook and Playster Link ** **Please leave a review or just copy / paste your RR reviews!** I don't have time to do all the image credits, so if anyone wants to provide feel free to comment below. Gwen is of course, the beautiful mylène jampanoï. Elvia is a makeup model with the tag Chuu Chloe (?) I'll collate them and add it here later. **Gwen Song** | **Ariel** | **Caliban** | **Golos (Gogo)** ---|---|---|--- Mylène Jampanoï | | | **Elvia Lindholm** | **Yue Bai** | **Richard Huang** | **Petra Kuznetsova** Chuu Chloe | Black Pink person? | | Xenia Tchoumitcheva **Mina Wang** | **Tao Wang** | **Mayuree** | **Lulan Li** Tsuyu from Twice | Asian Rapper X | Burmese Model | **Alesia De Botton** | **Gunther Shultz** | **Henry K.F Kilroy** | **Sufina** Eva Green | John Hamm | | **Bai Tei** | **Jiro Peng** | **Rene Mui** | **Anita Wong** K Pop | J Pop | | **Eunae Lee** | **Kusu Li** | **Marong** | **EricWalken** | | | **Helena Huang** | **Percy Song** | **Surya Huang** | | | | **Guo Song** | **Klavdiya Song** | **Jun Song** | **Morye / Hai Song** Tzi Ma | Yasmin Rossi | | **Ayxin** | **Ruxin** | **“The Dean”** | **Ruì** Dilraba Dilmurat | | | Stock Image **Carol** | **Birch** | **Hufei** | **Michio** | Bill Nighy | | Chuando Tan **James Ma** | **Kumiko** | **Marie-Roslyn Wen** | An actual professor | | Lee Lin Chin | * * * * __ Friday, September 13, 2019 1:10:26 AM * __ Friday, September 13, 2019 10:17:59 PM * __ __**Bio:** I write on the phone and edit at home. Times are tough! Theme (Entire Website) Dark Light Dim background 0% 20% 40% 50% 60% 80% 100% Font Size 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 20 22 24 28 32 Reader Width Max 90% 80% 70% 60% 50% Font Family Default ————— Open Dyslexic Atkinson Hyperlegible ————— Arial Roboto Open Sans OS Default Comic Sans Lucida Verdana Ubuntu Ubuntu Condensed Franklin Gothic Garamond Caslon Minion __ Color Scheme Theme Default OLED Black Royal Road Dark Dark Gray Gray Light Gray Sepia White __ Tap again to scroll to the top!