"Forgive me, Jean," the shieldbearer muttered, tipping his shield aside. "I didn't make it in time again."
"She got carried away again," the blond replied, pulling back his dagger—only for it to shrink in the same instant and become a lighter.
The change was immediate, like a blink. It came with a faint bluish flash—almost like a polite warning, maybe even an apology, for the fact that once again they were dealing with something so… unpredictable.
Jean shot the blond an indignant look, but first she gently gripped her companion's arm.
"How the hell do you keep parrying that?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "Those thrusts are getting faster."
The blond lit a cigarette as if it didn't bother him at all.
"And every training session you make the same mistake." He took a small drag. "I don't have to match you for speed."
"One day I'll land it," she shot back, determined.
He exhaled slowly, as if the answer were obvious.
"You won't."
The shieldbearer let out a heavy sigh.
"Let's not go in circles about this again," he said with a tired smile, nodding toward the newcomers. "Especially since we've got company."
"Right!" Jean exclaimed.
Her spear dissolved into a soft blue dust. For a moment it lingered in the air, as if carried upward by a wind that wasn't there. She clasped her hands together; her whole body tensed like a spring—ready to launch into an enthusiastic leap toward the door.
The hair on Radion's arms stood on end, and his body went rigid.
I don't want to die!
Thornheaven fought the corners of his mouth, trying not to let them lift.
"You must be Radion, right?" Jean began, closing the distance quickly and extending a hand. He shook it with a hesitant grip. "This is Jay," she added, pointing at the shieldbearer—then she leaned in conspiratorially. "And that jerk is Naoya."
"That jerk has ears," Naoya remarked as he approached with Jay, offering an open cigarette case. Radion declined with a small wave of his hand.
"Then maybe that jerk should start listening when people talk to him," Jean snapped, turning to him with theatrical outrage.
"Then start saying something worth listening to," he replied.
Jay slipped between them and offered Radion his hand. Radion took it, and at last the tension in his muscles eased.
"Don't mind them," Jay cut in with a smile. "They're always like this."
"You mean don't mind Jean," Naoya added, warmly amused.
"He said what he said!"
They'll kill each other faster than they'll kill any lieutenants…
"What's your Gift?" Jay asked, drawing everyone's attention.
The silence was broken only by a breath—so deep it felt like it might be his last.
"I'm not a Progenitor," Radion said, avoiding eye contact.
The pause that followed stretched on. Their eyes seemed to bore straight through him. The group exchanged uneasy looks.
"Is your Gift terrible jokes?" Jean nudged the stiff man with her elbow, smiling—infectious enough to tug a brief grin from him.
"N-no. I really don't have a Gift."
"Then what are you doing here?" Jay asked, plainly baffled.
Radion's gaze flicked toward his recruiter, pleading for an answer.
"A special case," Naoya cut in, dropping his cigarette into a portable ashtray. "I don't know why, but for some reason the professor cares about him. A lot."
There it is again—same as always. No specifics.
"And you got that how?" Jean challenged.
"I read the file," he said, unbothered.
"And you didn't say anything?" she snapped.
"You read the file?!" Jay's eyes went wide.
"I should start keeping it under lock and key," Thornheaven finally said.
"P-professor…!" Jean's posture wilted at the rebuke.
Thornheaven sighed. His gaze drifted somewhere beyond the window, his chin lifted as though he were addressing an auditorium.
"The thirst for knowledge this information has awakened in you takes me back to the glorious days of my academic youth," he declared, chest out.
"That doesn't answer my question!"
"That wasn't a question," Naoya corrected.
Nerd.
"Nerd," Jean muttered.
"Boss, can you brief us?" Jay asked.
"I think it will be better if you figure it out yourselves."
"Radion, has anything unusual ever happened to you?" Jean asked bluntly. "Anything you can't explain?"
Radion touched his chin without hesitation, eyes wandering slowly across the hall.
"Maybe you've cast something without runes," Jay added.
"The only thing that comes to mind…" Radion swept his hair aside to reveal his right ear—missing its upper curve. "...is that I'm missing part of an ear. Something happened when I was a kid, but I don't really remember what."
Naoya stifled a snort. The answer couldn't have fit the question more perfectly.
"Professor, please…" He glanced from Radion back to Thornheaven.
"If you're this invested, Naoya," Thornheaven said, "you should help with the demonstration."
Radion's eyes drifted, slow and steady, straight to the teacher.
"You're warmed up. Why not test him yourself?"
The color drained from Radion's face. Jay, still shocked himself, recovered fast enough to step in.
"Is putting an ordinary mage in front of Naoya really a good idea?"
The host's expression hardened. His firm stare stripped any desire Jay had to argue further.
The blond walked calmly into the hall, drawing out his lighter. It shifted again—becoming a lucerne—resting braced between the floor and his shoulder.
"Radion," Thornheaven said quietly, "remember what I told you."
You talked about talent, not a funeral!
***
Naoya
***
Naoya's stance was completely relaxed as he studied his future opponent.
Pale skin. Guarded chest. Soft legs. Either he's very good at pretending, or he has no idea what he can do. Don't get fooled.
"You've got this, Radion!" Jean called. "Worst case, we'll see where your gaps are."
"I haven't fought much," Radion admitted.
Naoya shifted his weight to his other leg.
Have you not?
"Listen," Jay added, "first he has to figure you out—see how you fight."
"So… he won't hurt me until then?" A seed of hope slipped into Radion's question, only to meet uneasy expressions.
Not if you've got at least two working hands.
"Don't make him wait, Radion."
The young mage set his sword aside. Another wave of raised eyebrows rippled through the spectators.
He moved to his starting position.
Bare knuckles? Tattooed runes?
The blond rolled the tension out of his neck, waiting.
Radion came in with a surprising lightness, hopping over larger cracks in the floor. He opened the holster for his cards, drawing a mix of curiosity and disappointment from his executioner.
A mage. And an eccentric one at that… Why not use a grimoire instead?
"Gentlemen," Thornheaven asked, "are you ready?"
Radion's eyes still avoided Naoya's.
"Kick his ass, Radion!" Jean shouted, waving.
"You'll be fine!" Jay added.
The short laugh that escaped Radion didn't seem like it belonged to the man they'd just met. He rolled up his coat sleeves and looked straight at the blond with determination—and a cocky, practiced grin.
There it is.
"You may begin," Naoya allowed, leaning slightly forward and shifting his weight onto the shaft of his weapon.
Radion drew the top card of his deck and flicked it at him.
Without any sudden movement, Naoya caught it midair and examined the rune.
Kinetic. Push. A distraction?
He looked back up—
—and his brows shot up as the rune began to glow.
What the—?
He tossed the card away, but it barely traveled a few inches before a bang exploded through the air. The kinetic shove drove him back a full meter, blowing his stance wide open.
The onlookers froze—everyone except the professor.
Radion let out a quick breath and began moving more loosely, more confidently.
I activated it?
More cards flew at Naoya. This time he didn't catch them. He slapped the first aside and slipped past the next two in a single motion.
He was ready to surge in—
—when he heard a bang behind him and felt chunks of broken floor smack into the backs of his legs.
I didn't even touch that one.
He hesitated for a heartbeat.
"Think, Naoya," the professor ordered.
Naoya stepped forward. Another card came.
This time he waited.
He planted his feet and chose to take the hit—ready for a shove.
Before the card ever reached his weapon, the rune flared.
Instead of pushing him back, it yanked him forward so hard he barely caught himself with a wobbling step.
Jean's gasp cut louder than the kinetic percussion.
Jay went pale.
He has more runes in that deck. How many? Was that pull a fluke—or is he a cheat?
The lucerne flashed—becoming a whip—and snapped toward Radion's legs.
Radion angled a card into its path and deflected the strike without letting go.
The whip lashed once, twice, three times—each time the card slid into place like a shield, each impact ending in a dull, heavy thud.
Standard usage.
Then the card flew back toward Naoya. He took a wide hop away, refusing to risk triggering it up close.
The whip shimmered again, turning into a bow with a nocked arrow haloed in dark light.
So it isn't touch. The condition is something else. Time? Or an external signal.
"Naoya!" Jay shouted.
"Have you lost your mind?!" Jean added.
Radion studied the bow for a fraction of a second, then drew another card from the top of his deck.
This isn't an ordinary mage… Thornheaven, you smug bastard.
Naoya's eyes flickered blue.
The bow released with a crack, and a thin black smear hung in the air along the arrow's path.
Radion moved instantly—almost before the shot—tossing a card upward and slightly to the right, activating it at the exact moment the arrow launched.
The card tugged the arrow toward itself, bending its course just enough—at the last second—for it to skim through Radion's tossed hair.
The pillar it struck shattered into chunks, scattering debris across the hall; the wall behind it was punched clean through.
An opening.
With the shaft in hand again, Naoya lunged.
A card zipped past his shoulder as he swung. Whatever scraps of confidence remained drained from Radion's face.
Push? Pull?
A small implosion behind Naoya's back tugged at the lucerne's head, stealing momentum from his strike. At the same time, another bang detonated near his left foot, wrenching his balance away.
Trying to salvage it, a flash turned the shaft into a dagger. He gripped it blade-down and drove in, aiming for Radion's throat.
At the last moment, Radion barely got a card up.
No bang this time—only impact.
It didn't throw Naoya back. It only checked him for an instant.
Radion's face tightened with strain. The dagger still pointed at him. Naoya pressed relentlessly.
Barely blocked it. He's falling behind.
A sudden kick sent Radion skidding several meters.
The dagger flashed again.
Naoya planted the lucerne firmly on the ground.
"I'm withdrawing," he said calmly, shooting Thornheaven an irritated glance.
Unbidden noises of disbelief slipped from the onlookers—and from Radion, still pushing himself up.
"If I continue, I'll hurt you," Naoya added. "And if you continue…" He looked directly at Radion. "…you'll humiliate me even more. You're too unpredictable for me to dodge everything."
"Thank the gods," Radion wheezed.
The brief silence that followed could've been heard out in the corridor.
"He won…" Jay said softly.
"Ass thoroughly kicked!" Jean added, without a hint of remorse.
"Naoya understands now," the professor said. "The question is—do you? Jay?"
"Mages don't work like this. This isn't normal."
"Maybe he's a pioneer of remote casting," Jean guessed.
"How is it not normal?" Radion protested. "Mages cast at a distance all the time."
Naoya rolled his eyes and walked up to the bewildered mage. With a smooth motion, he drew another card and checked the rune.
"Pull. Watch."
He held the card out. The rune flared; the air around it sucked inward—a small, controlled implosion, just like Radion's, except contained within the card's boundary.
Naoya slid his lighter into his pocket and pointed at a pile of rubble several meters away with his free hand. Another flash—the rubble twitched and lifted within the selected area.
"Right," Radion nodded in a trembling voice. "Sure…"
On the third attempt, the rune lit again—and in that same moment Naoya threw the card at the rubble.
The instant it left his hand, the glow died.
The card hit dead. No effect.
"Ah…" Radion hesitated, finally catching the difference.
"Activate it," Naoya said, tipping his chin. "Now. From that distance."
Radion extended his fingers toward the rubble pile.
The card lit.
The stones swirled around it as if seized by an invisible hand.
His knees shook; he forced himself steady.
"AAA—!" Jean burst out.
Radion stared at his trembling hand, still outstretched.
Naoya only nodded once, lighting another cigarette.
"Maybe you are a Progenitor," Jay said as he joined them.
Radion dropped onto the broken floor, running both hands through his hair.
"But they wouldn't have let me leave Ledger," he said after a moment.
"Maybe they didn't know," Jay replied, crouching and placing a hand on his shoulder.
Jean crouched right in front of Radion's face.
"People miss obvious things all the time," she said gently. "Does this change anything for you?"
He didn't meet her gaze. For a moment it seemed like his thoughts were somewhere else, but she didn't look away—she waited.
Others know more about you than you do. That's… terrifying.
***
Radion
***
This makes no sense.
He looked straight at Jean. Her soft, sympathetic smile seemed to anchor him more and more in the present.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I feel like I've been lying to myself my whole life." He paused. "If I'd known earlier… I could've changed so much."
"And would you still be you—the one you are now?" she asked.
"Right now, I don't even know who I am. Or what's inside me."
"I do," Thornheaven said, approaching them at an unhurried pace. "And I'll gladly help you find out. But in time."
"Why not now?" Jay demanded.
"Reactions like that are understandable," Thornheaven said, "but not necessarily helpful. We want Radion prepared for any major shifts in how he perceives reality—so he can draw strength from them instead of fighting them. Today was a shock, I'll grant you." The minister extended his hand to Radion. "But I want these discoveries to become reasons for joy. Without preparation, you'll step onto a road with no return."
Too much. All of it.
Radion rose with the help of the offered hand. His new companions followed.
"So what now?" he asked. "I'm supposed to just… ignore all of this?"
"Now," the teacher said with a smile, "you'll clean up this battlefield. Naoya."
At Thornheaven's word and gesture, the blond joined him, and the two headed for the exit. Naoya cast one last sympathetic look at Radion before disappearing from the hall.
"Easy," Jay said, walking toward what was left of the pillar. "You're in good hands."
"I hope you'll find your place in our little group," Jean added, grabbing a nearby broom. "It's good to have another soul here."
Radion watched them work through the wreckage. Jay efficiently stacked larger stones where the pillar had once stood, while Jean swept dust from the least-damaged patches of floor.
Should I even be here?
His breathing finally calmed, and he began gathering smaller fragments, dropping them into the gaps in the tiles.
There were three of them, yet somehow he felt alone.
Cracked stone. A whispering brush. Careful footsteps. Dust that stung his nose.
The sounds made a kind of silence—space, finally, for Radion.
What does this change about me?
"Here?" he asked at last. "You said 'here.'"
"We've got two more from Tendan," Jay answered between grunts of effort. "Kaishi and Akari."
"Naoya's from there too?"
"Partly," Jean said. "But he'll have to tell you that himself. Either way, we barely ever see them."
"But that's only a few hours away—right by the Agrea border," Radion said. "You haven't seen them even once?"
"Naoya worked with Kaishi once," Jay replied.
"Yeah," Jean laughed. "And he keeps trying to convince us Kaishi wanted to kill our poor blondie."
He went after his own teammate?
Radion was about to comment, but his attention snapped to the doorway.
Naoya stood there—accompanied by staff armed with grimoires.
"Come rest," he said. "We have a lot to talk about."
The team moved toward him without hesitation. Jay patted Radion's shoulder as they passed, and Radion followed after them.
As he left, he caught a glimpse of the mages repairing the floor—sealing the cracks with magic as if it were nothing.
Is everything here really… that tightly controlled?