CHAPTER 2 : Kingdom of the Dead

Seven PM, a darkened classroom on the Kimberly main building's first floor. Several figures stood before a large mirror on the wall.

"Everyone here? First, thanks for making this choice."

Before the mirror stood a seventh-year girl, Lesedi Ingwe. Around her were Tim and the other Watch members and every third-year from the meeting the day before. The Sword Roses were among them, albeit in separate groups.

"There's a lot of us, so we're gonna split into squads and head to our destination that way. With these numbers, dividing your forces is standard procedure for labyrinth traversal. Crowds just provoke the labyrinth ecosystem and bring unexpected trouble. Worth remembering. Move out!"

With that abrupt conclusion, Lesedi nodded to the other squad leaders. Half took their teams through the mirror, and the other half headed out through a different entrance. Katie's and Chela's teams were with the latter group. Oliver caught their eyes one last time—a promise they'd come back safe. Then Lesedi approached him.

"Team Horn, I'll be your supervisor today. I saw how you all moved in the match, and I'm expecting good things."

"We'll do what we can," said Oliver. "But Ms. Ingwe, shouldn't you be prepping for the main match?"

"If our first match was against Echevalria, I wouldn't be here. But it ain't. Still a little luck on our side."

She grinned and turned back to the mirror. Oliver, Nanao, and Yuri followed her through. After a few seconds of darkness, they were thrown out into the dim halls of the labyrinth.

"Shaaa!"

A warg had launched itself at them, but Lesedi's roundhouse kick tore into it. The head exploded, sending brain matter everywhere. Remembering the senior-league prelim, Oliver shuddered for more than the obvious reason—Vanessa Aldiss had shrugged this off?

"Careful," Lesedi warned. "All those alterations they did for the prelim have the beasts in a bad mood."

"A most impressive kick!" Nanao said, delighted.

Lesedi ran off, never even glancing at the warg's corpse. They followed. Passing through the first layer, Oliver voiced a question.

"…Same style? As President Godfrey, I mean?"

"Well spotted. Keen eye."

She grinned at him. Seeing them still keeping up just fine, she upped the pace a bit, expanding on her answer.

"I'm the one who taught him a few tricks. These martial arts have been passed down in my family for generations, rooted in a style the ordinaries developed. Naturally, we've brought in sword arts techniques, blending the two and making it more effective."

That made sense. Her skin was significantly darker than Chela's, suggesting her roots were not of this continent. Those distinctive leg-based moves likely hailed from there, too.

"You're orthodox Lanoff style, so it might just seem heretical. But it's got real advantages against mages. Must have put some ideas in his head—your Rossi was after me to teach him. I did what he asked, gave him five or six good kicks, and he went home satisfied."

"…That does sound like him." Oliver sighed.

He'd been very aware that Rossi was devouring Koutz at a prodigious speed, but it sounded like he was adding to his bag of dirty tricks as well. The overhead kick he'd used against Pete on the water in the lake district likely hailed from there. That would make him even tougher to handle in the future.

They kept talking, avoiding the magic traps in the halls without anyone needing them pointed out. Lesedi was keeping a close eye on their movements, figuring out their predilections and how they fitted her own tendencies.

"Not a good match for Hibiya's flow. These moves would best suit you, Leik."

"Oh? Like this?"

Mid-strike, Leik smoothly sent his body spinning into a kick—an improved copy of the kick Lesedi had used against the warg. A fundamentally different physical demand than anything found in the three main schools, but his reproduction was uncannily good. Lesedi's eyes narrowed.

"Yeah…but you sure pick things up creepily fast. What's your base?"

"Don't have one! If pressed, I guess stuff I gleaned racing around the mountains."

"Huh…? Not sure I follow, but you mean…less trained skills than a freakish knack? Fine, that makes it all the more worth honing."

Lesedi flashed her teeth. Yuri had clearly met with her approval—which was a relief to Oliver. For all his good cheer, Yuri's personality was not for everyone. Like Rossi, some people instantly despised him—so Lesedi not being one of them was cause for rejoicing. Odds were they'd end up in mortal peril together eventually.

"No matter what the labyrinth throws at us, the three of you can likely handle it through the third layer. But it'll be a different story on the fourth. Strength alone ain't enough."

"…We're going deeper? Where is this place?"

Oliver sounded dubious. Any deeper than the Library of the Depths and the threat level skyrocketed—worse, they'd hit the trial at the Library Plaza. He'd made it through there once with Karlie and Robert, but this party couldn't handle it like that. They'd need an alternate strategy.

Catching the demand in his look, Lesedi snorted.

"Hard question to answer, there. Lemme start with this pretext—the labyrinth is not necessarily always a one-way path down. There's the vertical progression from first layer to second, second to third, but a number of strata also have side branches."

"Hmm? Constructed like an ant's colony, you mean?" Nanao asked.

"Close enough, yeah. But we're talking about a stupid-huge labyrinth here. Even Kimberly ain't got the resources to manage all these branches. Places deemed lacking in benefits or not worth the cost get sealed and left to rot. They're what we call the labyrinth's abandoned zones."

Their pace never once slowed. The stone-paved paths gave way to the bustling forest. From that point on, all fell silent. For a while, they stayed cautious. They were used to what this place typically offered, but there was no guarantee there weren't deep monsters brought up for the prelims still lingering around. Still on their guard, they slipped through the forest's gloom.

"…Calmer than I expected," Oliver said, taking it in.

The faculty had clearly put in the work to restore things. The second-layer beasts were having a few territorial conflicts, but otherwise there were no obvious changes. They'd likely evacuated the original residents somewhere before bringing in the more powerful beasts. Oliver couldn't begin to imagine how, but possibly all it would take was a howl from Vanessa Aldiss.

Once over the irminsul, they were almost to the end of the layer. The trees thinned, and there was no more risk of ambush. That loosened Lesedi's lips.

"Back to the abandoned zones. Ordinarily, students never venture into them. Nothing to be gained by going there. But there are exceptions. Like if you come in equipped with extraordinary magical techniques that let you remodel those vast spaces to your liking, making a garden all your own."

All present had cleared the Battle of Hell's Armies, so they blew right past it, into the marshes of the third layer. Lesedi was clearly taking them on a different path than the one leading to the fourth stratum, and they assumed this led to the branch in question. Her back to them, Lesedi continued her lecture.

"Rivermoore did just that. You can't even call that thing a workshop. By the time we noticed, it was already his kingdom. One where he's the only living thing. A kingdom populated entirely by the undead."

Imagining what that meant, Oliver gulped. He was picturing the third layer under Ophelia Salvadori's control: the native beasts gone, replaced by grotesque chimeras, the very air filled with her maddening perfume. Rivermoore's territory was on that scale, yet he had put far more time and effort into creating it. How horrifying it must be.

They pushed through the tall grass around the swamp and saw a dark cave yawning up ahead. Lesedi plunged straight in, and the others followed. Yet—

"Mm?"

"Oh, a dead end?"

—five minutes into the cave, having taken several forks, they hit a wall. Wrong turn, perhaps? Before they could ask, Lesedi waved her athame at the rock face…

"Fragor!"

…and blew the wall down. This was hardly anything as fancy as a secret entrance; she'd simply used brute force to open a hole to the other side. Dust flew, and air rushed out—singularly stale air. The feel of it on their skin made one fact clear: They were entering the warlock's domain.

Athames swiftly in hand, the group advanced beyond the blast site. Bathed in a glow, white like moonlight, was a vast gray land on which sprouted countless bones in lieu of grass. The hole behind them sealed on its own, and the flow of air died—no winds at all. A spectacle that went beyond sinister into the downright unreal, like they'd stepped from their world into the next.

"Brace yourselves," Lesedi growled. "Border patrol incoming."

All three made ready for battle. The bones scattered across the ground were quivering…and soon sprang to life, putting themselves together, assembling into a towering form. Blocking their path was a thirty-foot-tall three-headed beast—the bones of a cerberus.

"These ain't like magic beasts or chimeras. You know where to aim?" Lesedi asked. She stood at the fore, unperturbed, her arms folded.

Making swift observations of their foe's appearance, Oliver said, "Can't expect blood loss or organ damage, so if there's a weakness, it must be the bones driving its mobility. With this creature, severing the spine seems effective."

"Correct. A good start. I'll get in close and draw its attention. Take your time lining up the shot if you need it, but hit that back hard."

Short and sweet. She was already charging in. Oliver, Nanao, and Yuri spread out, moving into position. The lifeless cerberus released a howl, as if dictating the laws of this realm, as if rebuking the arrogance of the living.

At the same time, the other squads were smashing into the abandoned zone.

"Frigus!"

"Flamma!"

Pete's and Guy's spells flew at the bone beast's spine. Ice and fire spells at once, exploiting the temperature gap to weaken the target. Mentally giving their performance a passing grade, their supervisor—Tim "Toxic Gasser" Linton—was busily opening and closing the lid on his hip pouch.

"Tch…babysitting is so not my thing! How am I supposed to use any decent poison?"

While his struggle may have been internal, his muttering reached their ears and made the younger students all the more intent on taking this creature out before poison was needed. But that was easier said than done. Each step Guy took, his soles told him this land was dry as a bone, not a drop of moisture anywhere.

"Soil this parched, tool plants aren't happening—how you doing, Katie?"

Certain one of his strengths wasn't an option here, Guy shot a question over his shoulder. Since the battle began, Katie had been drawing an elaborate diagram on the ground.

"…I'm good," she answered with a nod. "It links up."

She sounded confident. She went down on her knees by the magic circle and began chanting.

"Come to me, Marco, Lyla. Sequitor."

The circle activated, lighting up—and a wind began to blow. A gust across a windless plain—proof she'd opened a gate to elsewhere. Katie's diagram was a bridge between two separate points in space, and across that bridge came two figures: Marco, a troll in heavy armor wielding a hammer, and Lyla, a griffin with a saddle on her back.

"Damn, nice pawns you got there. How come you didn't use these in the league?" Tim snorted.

Forcing back the exhaustion of the massive mana expenditure, Katie managed, "They're not much good for stealth. Didn't want to trot them out just to use as a distraction."

The ground shook as the troll and griffin advanced on either side of her. The pact she'd formed with her familiars established a channel to them; by temporarily expanding that, she was able to summon them to her location. It took a lot out of her, but the advantages of having large familiars around more than made up for that.

"And one more thing—they aren't pawns. They're my friends."

A skelebeast, sharp claws flailing, two figures dashing around beneath its feet. One was the upper-forms supervisor and the other a third-year, Rosé Mistral. While the monster chased them around, the other three were casting spells from outside claw range. The beast staggered, and the real Mistral grinned.

"Hya-ha! Adorable! So easily fooled!"

"Impetus! Back in the habit, huh?"

"Can't be acting all sedated when we're up against something this spooktacular! I had nightmares 'bout the display skeletons in my mom's workshop as a kid! Ahhh, the horror, the horror, would that I had a blanket to hide beneath!"

Despite his claims, his control over his splinter never once wavered. The older student backing that play was suitably impressed. The illusion of extra numbers made it far easier for her to be out front—especially since, unlike flesh-and-blood juniors, there was no need to protect a splinter.

A massive tail swung into a sweeper blow. A third-year girl ducked smoothly under that, delivering a counter slash at the base of the creature's tail, severing it. Down its greatest weapon, the beast flailed.

"It seems no tougher than the living ones," Jasmine Ames whispered. "Though I'm hardly an expert."

"You're our queen, Jaz!"

"We're kicking this thing's ass!"

Two burst spells hit the spine, snapping it, and the teammates flanking Ames struck a triumphant pose. But even as they celebrated, their supervisor pointed at the crumbling skeleton.

"Hate to burst your bubble, but it ain't done yet. Here's where it gets nasty."

They followed the upperclassman's finger…and found the bones reassembling. The broken spine now formed two columns, merging with the tail Ames had severed and producing two new skelebeasts. Ames's minions gaped.

"Huhhh?!"

"No fair! I call no fair!"

"…Fascinating," said Ames. "The bones rebuilding into new forms. That is 'nasty.'"

Four bony legs kicked the ground, pouncing on its quarry. A furious assault, but Rossi smoothly slipped past it. The approach itself was rather like what Teresa had demonstrated in the combat-league prelims, but his transparent lack of enthusiasm drew all the more ire.

"Ugh, do I 'ave to be 'ere? My 'eart is as empty as this skeleton's ribs."

"You speak as if you had depth to begin with. Fragor!"

Albright's spell hit the exposed flank, snapping off a chunk of the rib cage. Rossi kept baiting it as Andrews nodded.

"…You noticed it'll shape-shift, so you're damaging the bones first."

"It's clearly got a lot of extra bones the living ones don't have. Take it down wrong, we'll be stuck fighting more."

"Whatever! Fight 'ow you like."

All three nodded and kept going. The upperclassman watching them fight—Khiirgi Albschuch—had neither moved to help nor offered words of advice. She was simply watching their every move.

"Such skilled children. Haaa-ha. How tantalizing."

She licked her lips, and a shiver ran down all three spines. Their ally behind them was far more frightening than the foe in front—on that one point, the trio of third-years agreed.

Battles had broken out across the border, but since everyone spent time observing the unknown foes, nearly all squads wrapped up the fighting almost simultaneously.

Oliver's team had been up against the cerberus, and after one transformation and two takedowns, it was reduced to an unmoving heap of bones.

Arms folded, Lesedi nodded. "Solid first try. Good work."

Oliver was relieved to receive a passing grade.

Her gaze already past the fallen foe to the gray expanse beyond, Nanao sniffed the air.

"…No scent of life to be found," she said. "And yet, I sense maneuvers being made. An odd place indeed."

"You picked up on it? Yeah, this place is one of a kind. Hard to explain—best you feel it on your skin."

With that, Lesedi dropped her satchel to the ground. Then she opened it up, stuck her hand in, and pulled out four white lumps—each looked like some sort of skull, clearly far too large to actually fit in a satchel that size. No doubt they'd been magically folded into the space via a compression spell.

"First, put these on."

"Hrm? The skull of an ape?" Nanao asked.

"Taken from a demon ape's corpse, engraved with a sigil. To what purpose—?" Oliver asked, examining it.

Lesedi had already donned her skull, her eyes shining between the halves of its jaw.

"Like I said, this place is unique. In a graveyard, the living stand out among the throngs of the dead. Thus, if we act like we're dead, we'll have an easier time of it."

That all made sense. It was like wearing green and brown in the forest—a form of camouflage specific to this locale. It might look bizarre but was well worth it if fewer undead viewed them as hostiles.

Oliver put the skull on, and something poked him in the back. Wondering what that something was, he turned around—and found Nanao wearing her skull, arms held high yet limp at the wrists, her tongue hanging out.

"Oliver! Oliverrrr! How I abhor thee!"

"Wh-what? Did I do something wrong?"

"This is how specters are believed to act where I'm from. Abhorrrr!"

"Huh, that's neat! What were ghosts like back home again? Hmm… Well, there was this one time I ran into a severed head dangling from a fruit tree."

This alarming anecdote came from Yuri, also bone-bedecked. With all her juniors fully equipped, Lesedi reshouldered her satchel and shrugged.

"These things won't work miracles. We cast any spells, that'll blow our cover quick, and this disguise won't work on any of the better familiars. But there's also a ton of sundry ghosts not directly under Rivermoore's control. They're likely the vast majority. If we can pass through while avoiding unnecessary fights, we'll conserve magic and energy."

This was hide-and-seek. Their focus clear, Lesedi led the way out into the wasteland. The younger students followed on her heels.

"If we're gonna find him, we need clues. First, let's locate a town."

"A town?!" Oliver yelped. That was the last word he'd expected.

Lesedi shot him a grin. "Don't be shocked. They may be dead, but they're people. And when people gather, they make towns."

Her words were neither metaphor nor exaggeration—as Katie's team had just discovered.

"…Wh-what in the…?"

There was a town smack in the middle of all that gray nothing. The entrance led directly to the main street, where throngs of dead roamed. There were shops and stalls set up on both sides, staffed by the dead, serving dead customers. In the center, carts pulled by bone horses threaded their way through the shuffling hordes.

Guy peered down the road, unable to stop his eye from twitching. "…Place is bustling, huh? I'd love to join in—if anyone here wasn't made of bones."

"They don't seem hostile…but what's this?" Pete asked. He squinted, observing a stall. "Are they buying and selling things? From one undead to another…?"

The wares in question seemed to be stones and bits of dried wood of various shapes and sizes. The customers were paying for these…with much the same things. Even without knowing what it was the undead wanted, it seemed unlikely these transactions held any intrinsic meaning. And yet, they were going through the motions.

As his juniors gaped, Tim muttered, "Ever tried controlling the undead? It's harder than you'd think. If you're simply pointing them at someone, then you just rile up their lingering hatred. But if you need them on standby, then you've gotta find a way to stabilize their emotions. Fail to do that, and the curse energy runs wild, or it wavers and gets absorbed by those around it. With only a few of them, you can just manage them directly, but with numbers this ridiculous, you've gotta create a specialized environment or you'll never keep up. That's why Rivermoore remodeled the whole abandoned zone as a place where the undead can kick back and relax."

Pete folded his arms, pondering this. That would explain why there was a town here. But that still left a more fundamental concern.

"…Wait," Katie said. "Then where'd they all come from? Even the Scavenger couldn't bring this many undead in from outside. I wondered the same thing at the Battle of Hell's Armies…"

If there were no living, there were also no dead. These unnamed undead before them and the spartoi fighting their never-ending battle—both must once have been as alive as Katie was now. That was the primary difference between these creatures and magical beasts.

"So I'll come right out and ask," she said, casting Tim a sidelong glance. "Who were these people?"

His eyes on the dead running errands ahead, he replied, "You already know the answer. No one brought them in. So there's only one place they could've come from—they were always here."

"…The Parsu," Oliver whispered, digging the word up from the far corners of his memory. His team was on a plateau, staring down at a different town from the one Katie and the others were visiting.

Lesedi caught his murmur, and a smile crossed her lips.

"I'm impressed. The Wild Geese's catcher's an archeologist, too, huh?"

"I just know a few scraps about history predating the founding of Kimberly. But I can't imagine another explanation. Since the labyrinth itself is a ruin of an ancient magic civilization, then it makes sense for the residents to be here."

Oliver was merely analyzing the sight before him. Meanwhile, Yuri had his arms folded and his head cocked.

"Hmm…? But do souls even stick around that long? I had it in my head they just, like, ascend after a while if you let 'em be."

"That's the general principle, yes. But that changes if they have particularly powerful convictions or if they're bound by a spell. This is likely the latter. They're not lingering; they're not allowed to leave. A magic contract forged in life keeps their souls here. Probably something only achievable via the magic of the time."

"…A pitiable plight," Nanao said, putting a name to the emotions swirling within.

Oliver felt tempted to agree, but he stifled the urge. Whatever lay in the past, what lay before them now was undoubtedly a land of death. It would not do to let empathy stay his blade. Telling himself as much, he spoke as if words would banish the turmoil within.

"…The years have taken their toll on these ghosts, and they have little mind remaining. From the look of the town, they're simply repeating routines from their lives, like children playing house. But the town itself is oddly modern. Even the style of the buildings isn't that old."

"Yeah, Rivermoore had the undead build all this," said Lesedi. "I heard this place was far worse before his arrival. Filled with the howls of the dead, their minds long since ground away, yet still incapable of ascending."

Even as the warlock robbed the living of their bones in the labyrinth, here he had spent a great deal of time making a place for the dead to dwell. Yet, imagining that brought still more questions—Oliver struck a thoughtful pose.

"…His purpose eludes me. All this work to re-create an ancient kingdom for the dead, but for what? Does it have anything to do with the students' bones?"

"That, I don't know, nor do I need to. No matter what he's after, we've got one job here: get Godfrey's bone back ASAP."

Lesedi had no time for doubts. And in her position, cutting those free made perfect sense. Oliver did not have that luxury. Yuri's reckless streak would not end until Rivermoore's purpose became clear.

As Oliver's brain churned, Lesedi took her eyes off the town, scanning their surroundings.

"You said the undead had no minds left, but that's not true for all of them. The exceptions are far trickier. If they're driven enough to survive a millennium—well, can you imagine how strong they are?"

That forced Oliver's mind back to the present. The skelebeasts they'd fought on entry had been but heralds, and there were far worse things out here—that was the gist of Lesedi's warning. Who knew how many?

"If we encounter one, we'll all need to do our part. If it proves too much, group up with a nearby squad or beat a temporary retreat. But we shouldn't run into all that many. The Watch and Rivermoore have clashed in the past, and we've taken out quite a few of the tougher ones. Even he can't replace those easily."

"Aha! You mean, this kingdom itself is pretty big, but he doesn't actually have enough strong units to cover it. That means he can't afford to use his valuable assets willy-nilly. He must have them carefully placed in important locations," Leik said, fearlessly getting right to the point.

Lesedi nodded. "Your team sure saves my breath. Yeah. Logically speaking, if we follow the trail of exceptional undead, we'll get closer to Rivermoore. Naturally, he'll have decoys out there, but the total number is finite, and he can't make more."

But that also meant they could not avoid fighting these undead. Oliver took a deep breath, steeling his nerve. Godfrey had been in predicaments like this on a daily basis. But he'd be graduating this year—and next year, Oliver himself would be in the upper forms. It was time to put his fears aside.

"Running around trying to find the strong undead is one plan, but there's a faster way to accomplish that goal," said Lesedi. "That's why we're here, looking down at the town. Anyone want to guess? I'll give you one hint—you had the same thing done to you recently."

Quickly solving that riddle, Oliver drew his white wand, the tip aimed squarely at the town below—and that was all it took for Nanao and Yuri to catch up. They matched his aim.

"…Not sure I can land an attack from this distance, so what say we use flashing lights and sound to draw them out?"

"Ha-ha! That'll work. No need to copy Ms. Ames. But remember this kinda thing crops up in real combat. Another lesson for ya."

Even as she lectured, Lesedi aimed her own wand. Her eyes were always laser-focused, but now they narrowed, gleaming like a bird of prey.

"The response won't take long. Be mindful of the direction and lag. Magnus Fragor!"

"""Magnus Fragor!"""

Katie's team, too, was hurling spells at some other town, trying to bait a powerful foe. Four burst spells sailed off, but rather than watch them land, Tim urged his team on.

"Okay, no lollygagging! Move! First law of sniping!"

"Urgh, I'm sorry, everyone…! Your lives looked so peaceful, too!"

"No time for guilt! We'll end up skeletonized, too!"

Guy's words hit Katie like a slap on the back. This wasn't a pleasant approach, but they were in Rivermoore's territory, and the undead in that town could turn on them at any time. Being wishy-washy would not help here. Katie nodded and kept running.

On their way to the next hiding spot, Pete called out, "Something's coming," his eyes off route.

Neither Katie nor Guy had sensed a thing, but in his female body, Pete's mana detection tended to get pretty accurate. And he was soon proven right—a few seconds later, Tim stopped in his tracks.

"That tingle on my skin—ha-ha! We got one, kids. A real winner."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than everyone could feel the mana density. All eyes turned to the horizon—and a plume of dust rose up, eventually revealing a herd of bone horses more than twenty strong. Each was ridden by a skeleton, but Tim's eyes were focused on the knight at the fore.

At least 50 percent larger than the others, it wore weathered plate armor like a general of yore, a massive halberd gripped in its hands. Beneath the helm, the sockets of its skull burned with fires that raged on, even in death. An obsession with battle, unbroken by the passage of time.

"Thank you, thank you. Showing up on the first day I'm around?" the Toxic Gasser teased. "…Always did regret not taking you down in my fourth year. Now I can pass the torch with a clear conscience!"

Tim gleefully reached for the pouch at his hip. Seeing the Toxic Gasser fired up, Katie, Guy, and Pete kept their distance—but they all drew their athames, prepared to face the oncoming threat.

Meanwhile, Oliver's team had followed similar tactics, moving from their spellcasting locale to a hiding spot in the sand. Not long after, something appeared in the skies above, surrounded by a flock of bone birds—clearly quite different from the skelebeasts they'd fought. A black-robed figure, its shoulders in the grasp of a large skelebird's talons. Two snakes grew from its body, and where the eyes and nose should be was a swirling black vortex, the sight of which made the hairs on the back of Oliver's neck stand on end.

"A zahhak…!"

"That's what they call 'em," Lesedi intoned. "Said to be the remnants of an ancient mage, but no one knows for sure. Given their tendency to roam ruins like these, they may originate in a tír migration. A creature of many mysteries, accurate categorization included."

Oliver had seen one himself, his first year, just before taking out Darius. He'd been aware he might run into one in the labyrinth someday but had never expected it to be a familiar. Further proof of how powerful Cyrus Rivermoore was.

"But we know how to beat 'em. This particular one's a first, but that just means I get to teach you the ABC's of killing 'em," Lesedi explained. "First, use a doublecant burst spell to bring down these birds. Match my cast on that."

All three nodded. Oliver began assessing the foes they were about to engage. Including the one carrying the zahhak, there were five large skelebirds. Around them flew roughly 120 midsize or small ones. These did not seem to pose a major threat, but there was a strong chance the birds would join together, reassembling into a more powerful foe. Taking out as many as they could with the first blast was a necessary measure to allow them to focus on the zahhak.

"Rule number one of fighting a powerful foe—before you strike, assume they have backup coming. Then set yourself a time limit. Here, let's go with five minutes. Even if the undead from town come running in, if we've pulled out by then, we'll get away clean."

As they waited for the flock to reach casting range, Lesedi continued her lecture. Aware of the enemy's detection range, she'd positioned them a fair distance from the town, giving them a comfortable margin before backup could come running in. If they failed to fell this foe within those five minutes, they'd turn tail and run. This plan prioritized survival over victory.

Conscious of that, Oliver's team dug into the sand, athames at the ready.

"Rule number two. Always strike first. Magnus Fragor!"

"""Magnus Fragor!"""

Four burst spells shot skyward. The zahhak spotted them, but it was too late to dodge. The explosion covered a wide area, taking most of the birds with it and shattering the wings of the large skelebird. It and the zahhak began to fall.

"Okay, activate the circle, then spread out and continue the aerial bombardment!"

Lesedi was already running toward the landing site. Oliver, Nanao, and Yuri aimed their athames in three separate directions, chanting—and activating the magic circle they'd inscribed ahead of time. This placed a dome-like barrier over Lesedi and the area; not that powerful, but combined with their suppressing fire, it would be enough to stave off the bone flock for now. The key here was to keep them from getting in Lesedi's way.

Shooting down the descending skelebirds, they kept one eye on her battle. After all, that was the real meat of Lesedi Ingwe's combat demonstration.

"Impetus! Shiiiiiaaahhhh!"

Lesedi's first strike was a gust spell. And although it did double duty as a feint, the spell wasn't aimed at the enemy. It created a current in the air she was running through, and she rode upon that, giving herself a boost of speed and a shift in direction her opponent couldn't anticipate. Her roundhouse kick hit the zahhak before it could recover from its landing. It tried to throw out a black barrier and block, but Lesedi's kick smashed through that and scored a direct hit on the zahhak's shoulder. It went flying, and she gave chase.

"Rule three! Don't let them recover! Once you've got the advantage, keep it!"

True to her word, before the zahhak could right itself, she was pummeling it with further kicks. At a glance, it might seem like a wild flurry, but she was smoothly weaving in a number of leg sweeps that kept it permanently off-balance. And each time it left itself exposed, her athame stabbed a weak point—and had just gouged a shallow groove out of its throat.

"Don't trade spells or slashes! Make that shit a one-sided beatdown! Prep three ways to finish it from your opening move!"

"…!"

Oliver gulped. This was a horrifically practical lesson. Completely ignoring the accepted practices of sword arts but rock-solid on the elements that decided a battle's outcome. A comprehensive grasp of fighting theory, readily broken away from as her own techniques and the situation at hand required.

"Such polish," Nanao muttered.

A curious choice of words, but Oliver got why she chose them. Lesedi had found her own style beyond what the book said and had refined it to perfection. It was painfully obvious why Rossi had sought her teachings.

"Shiii!" Lesedi roared.

The zahhak ducked under a flying spin kick to the head. But that big swing had been intentional and was followed by a backhanded slice, cutting off the zahhak's left arm at the root. This made Oliver grimace. Hiding the cut itself in the motion of the kick made this extremely hard to dodge. But holding a wand the wrong way around was, conventionally, a sign of surrender. A number of styles taught it as a dirty trick designed for a surprise kill, but Lesedi likely never even registered that aspect of it, only the functionality.

Perhaps a single arm counted as result enough—Lesedi broke off her one-sided rush. Switching her athame around to the proper grip, she took a step back, calling to her juniors behind.

"You see that? This is how you set the pace. The birds you dropped and the arm I severed—we're now starting at a clear advantage."

All three nodded. The results spoke for themselves. Her words came not from what she'd read in books but from what she'd learned by skirting certain death more times than she could count.

"Watching your league match, I got the strong impression all three of you tend to enjoy the fight a bit too much. But the nexus of a real fight is to never let your foe make a move. In that sense, I rate the other three teams higher."

"Mm, a tried-and-true principle of troop deployment," Nanao agreed.

Staring down the zahhak, Lesedi spared a quick glance at the sky. The spell barrage had been effective, and the bone birds were merely wheeling, showing no signs of descent. It seemed unlikely they feared getting shot down, so perhaps they'd simply learned they couldn't break the barrier and were waiting for an opening. They remained sinister, but at the very least, the group should be able to keep them away from the zahhak for the time being. In light of which, Lesedi moved to the next phase.

"Okay, let's trade places. I've weakened it a bit, so it should be solid practice for you. Take your time and get the hang of how it fights. If you're in trouble, I'll barge in—"

"Well, aren't you a proper teacher, Hard Knocker."

As the third-years stepped into the barrier and Lesedi out, an unexpected voice called to her. Oliver jumped, narrowing his eyes. The zahhak had no face, let alone a mouth. But that deep, masculine growl had come from the vortex swirling where the face should be.

"…Rivermoore," Lesedi replied, her brow furrowing. "Not how I expected to hear from you."

"Mwa-ha-ha-ha. It was just so heartwarming. You used to be as rabid as Bloody Karlie, but now you've actually learned how to mentor."

"You just here to ooze spite? Then I don't care. Cut the connection."

Lesedi waved a hand dismissively. The warlock in the vortex chuckled.

"No, that's just a side benefit. I'm about to disrupt your lesson and felt I should drop a warning. Deformatio."

On the spell's cue, the zahhak's body began to creak, transforming. The bones within rearranged themselves—even sprouting a new arm.

Lesedi gritted her teeth. "What the hell? You've even meddled with a zahhak?!"

"Doing my part to represent the upper forms. Can't show off to my juniors just using what was lying around."

The transformation complete, the zahhak's physical and magical abilities now projected an entirely different threat. The warlock's speech continued.

"This, too, is a product of ancient necromancy. Or you could call it a failed attempt at a life-prolongment spell—if you're curious, read my upcoming dissertation on the subject. If you can make it back to campus alive."

With that, Rivermoore's voice cut out. Lesedi had her eyes locked on the zahhak, ready for anything.

"…Change of plans. The three of you are on backup. Unknown enemies pose a serious threat. Always exercise the utmost caution."

"Verily."

"Shame. This looks fun!"

Nanao and Yuri both nodded, faced with the new zahhak. Blue light started pouring from its back—a sphere, armful size, floating above it.

"…A floating ball of light…"

It was a bit like the false moon Cornwallis had used their first year. Oliver observed this carefully, but it seemed to offer no attack options on its own. Before his watchful eyes, the glowing orb moved soundlessly to a position behind the zahhak…

"Below us!"

The light had extended the zahhak's shadow toward their feet. The group leaped back when Lesedi barked a warning—and the next moment, spear-like blades shot out of the shadow itself.

The threat identified, Lesedi yelled, "Shadow Crawl! Watch out for attacks from its shadow!"

"Will shining some light help? Lumina!"

Yuri acted on instinct. White light bathed the ground and canceled out the oncoming shadow.

"Simple but effective. Surround it in all directions—"

But before Lesedi could finish, the sphere behind the zahhak split, rising upward and rejoining up above—projecting shadows from the bone birds wheeling below it.

"Not that easy, huh? Well-planned, Rivermoore."

Shadows were flitting in every direction, and Lesedi clicked her tongue. But she'd already made her choice. Pushing back the shadows with the light of her spell, she yelled, "Rule four! If the risk outweighs your odds of winning, bail! If you get back alive, you'll have another shot."

"Got it! Securing escape route! Lumina!"

Oliver was already moving, aiming his athame over his shoulder and dashing through the shadowless zone with Yuri and Nanao hot on his heels. Lesedi brought up the rear, keeping the zahhak back with her spells. Once they'd gained enough distance, all four leaped aboard their brooms. As they flew off, she glanced over her shoulder at the zahhak swiftly retreating to the rear.

"That counterattack was worse than we'd estimated. Could mean the other squads—?"

"Yo, yo, what the hell?!"

Tim paused in the middle of pulling out his next poison vial. Before their eyes, the still-standing bone knights were grouping around the central general—and combining. Leaving the powerful legs of the skeletal horses as is, countless other bones reassembled into a seat, on which rested the upper body of the general, the rest of his bones built in. The long bone blades on the sides were designed to cut down foes diving to the sides as it charged in. They'd gone from cavalry to nightmarish chariot.

"I take my eyes off you for five seconds, and you get all weird! This makes no sense… Undead are absolute crap at learning new tricks!"

"GYUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The general roared, and the chariot rocketed forward. Marco stepped out in front of Katie, Guy, and Pete, but even in armor, a troll couldn't soak this charge without injury. The griffin Lyla swooped in, but the general fended her off with its halberd. This was too much for the third-years to handle, so Tim shot out ahead, trying to draw the foe's ire.

"Magnus Clypeus!"

A spell from one side hit the ground in front of them, generating a rock mountain that stopped the chariot's charge. Surprised, Tim spun around—and found a seventh-year, athame in hand.

"…A regulated vengeful horde? Rivermoore's been plumbing the depths of necromancy, I see."

Gwyn Sherwood's voice was soft and calm. Four more students emerged before him, making a beeline toward Katie's group.

"Is everyone okay?"

"Chela?!"

Katie's face lit up. Chela, Stacy, and Fay were moving with Shannon Sherwood. Shannon was hardly a fighter, so this squad had both her and Gwyn as supervisors.

"Huh?" Tim said, baffled by the reinforcements. "Why are you over here? The rendezvous isn't till later."

"Seemed wise to do so sooner. Too many unfamiliar noises here."

Gwyn answered succinctly, casting further spells to keep the chariot pinned down. Meanwhile, Shannon took a position in front of the younger crowd.

"…Stay…behind me. Don't worry… I'll protect you."

"No, thank you."

Stacy and Fay stepped right around her. Athame at the ready, Stacy glared at their foe.

"I appreciate the supervision, but we're not asking for protection. We have the numbers now. And I'm done listening to this racket. Let's silence it for good."

Her manservant smiled at that.

"Fay," she said. "Run circles around it. Chela and I will hit it hard."

"Got it."

Stacy raised her athame high and chanted a spell.

"Lunatum."

A pale light appeared above her, shaped like a crescent moon. As the spell took effect, Fay's body began to change. The bones in his lower half creaked, sharp claws pierced his boots, his hair stood on end, and fangs appeared beneath bared lips—but there, the transformation stopped. By design.

"…Hrfffffff…"

Partially transformed, Fay took several deep breaths.

"Phased transformation on a werewolf," Tim said, impressed. "I was shocked by that in the match, but seen up close, I seriously can't believe it. And you can still cast spells? Pretty sure there's no precedent for that."

"…Aren't you in pain, Mr. Willock?" Chela asked.

Fay grinned, his features significantly wilder than usual.

"I absolutely am. But my pride outdoes that. That's what loyal guard dogs are like, Ms. McFarlane."

He made his feelings clear in a way that brooked no argument. Chela nodded and joined them.

Gwyn snorted. "No point in trying to stop you. Fine—let's take this thing down. But don't get too far ahead. Shannon'll cry if any of you up and die on us."

He phrased it to sound like a joke, but his expression made it clear it wasn't one. Chela, Stacy, and Fay glanced her way and saw that Gwyn spoke the truth—Shannon indeed looked ready to cry already.

"Don't…be rash…," she said.

"Oh… Argh, fine! Point taken!" Stacy gave up, promising, "We'll play it safe!"

As she did, Fay kicked the ground, his legs far stronger in this form. He now had the mobility to kite the chariot around, and that got Katie, Guy, and Pete motivated again.

"Can't let them hog all the glory, can we?" said Guy. "What do we do about this big fella?"

"Whatever we can, but don't put too much burden on Marco and Lyla. They're already hurt enough."

"Unh? I fine, Katie."

"KYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Marco offered reassurance and Lyla a powerful howl. Tim grinned and grabbed an extra-large poison vial.

"Guess we're all in! Let's get our murder on!"

After abandoning the battle against the modified zahhak, Lesedi's group spent a solid ten minutes flying around.

Worried this was a bit too bold a move, Oliver asked, "Is this okay? We've been flying awhile."

"Yeah, he already knows we're here," Lesedi said. "Rather than try and hide ourselves down below, we might as well get the lay of the land. Seems like a lot's changed since I was last here."

Given the scale of the place, exploring on foot would take absolutely ages—her reasoning was sound. Oliver was more concerned about their foe's preparations. He found it hard to believe the warlock had no antiair plans.

As Oliver scanned the air around them, Nanao's focus lay elsewhere—on the broom between her legs.

"…Amatsukaze's gait is a shadow of itself," she said. "The air here isn't right."

"Exactly." Lesedi nodded. Then she added, "Lots of magic particles around, but they tend to stagnate. Good for the undead, bad for us and brooms. Watch the drain on your mana and energy."

Her instructions were simple and apt, her answers clear and swift, and above all, she insisted on retreat and survival—there was no doubt she made an excellent supervisor. That was why all three could trust her to steer their course.

"But even with that in mind, the maneuverability brooms provide is effective here. The undead don't have brooms. Only a handful of Rivermoore's bone beasts can match this flight speed. Long as we watch out for them…"

Even as she expounded on the basis of this flight, she trailed off. The others soon figured out why. There were three things up ahead, flying at their altitude.

"Speaking of… We got undead wyverns incoming. Time for a magic flight combat lesson!"

With that pronouncement, Lesedi shot forward, the others close behind. It was their first time going up against wyverns in the air, but they knew the basics. First, don't get hit by their breath—that might kill you outright. Second, don't let that worry you so much that you slow your flight speed. Even without clubs, even against the undead, the key principle of aerial combat remained unchanged. Maneuver yourself above your foe, and victory was yours. And it helped that they outnumbered the enemy.

Neither side seemed inclined to give way, so it started as a bullfight. A vital moment that would set the standings. The wyverns tried knocking them down with claws or their breath while the mages made minimal adjustments to avoid that and fired counterspells, aiming not at the rock-solid bodies but at the more pierceable wings. Lesedi knew that theory well, leading them right at the head wyvern—

"Hng?!"

She'd dodged its jaws easily, but a blade swung at her from the wyvern's back. She got her athame up to shield herself, but the pushback was enough to make her flight line wobble. As the other wyverns shot past, Oliver gulped.

"Ms. Ingwe!" he yelled.

"You okay there?" Yuri asked.

"…Rrrgh. I'm fine! Keep your eyes on 'em!"

Lesedi soon got her broom under control, but there was no time for relief. They'd spotted the source of that surprise attack—a six-armed, three-faced bone warrior, mounted on the lead wyvern's back, wielding a giant glaive.

"""SYURAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"""

With a guttural roar, the wyverns came out of their plunge, banking upward. Shooting them a sidelong glance, Lesedi growled, "An undead dragoon? Damn it, Rivermoore, how many more headaches you got up your sleeve?"

"My moment arrives!" Nanao cried, spying her task and upping her broom's speed.

"Wait, Hibiya!" Lesedi cried. "Playing to our foe's strengths won't—"

"Let her do it, Ms. Ingwe," Oliver said. "The sky belongs to her."

Catching his point, Lesedi glanced at the ground. Flat land, few elevation shifts—if they took the fight below, there was little chance of using the terrain to their advantage.

"A pain either way… Fine, Hibiya, that dragoon is all yours! Horn, maintain speed and watch Hibiya like a hawk! Leik, you and I are on the other bone dragons! Take them down fast so they can't disrupt Hibiya's duel!"

"On it!"

"Hell yeah!"

The plan set, all four sped off. Gaining altitude and going into a turn, Lesedi and Yuri fired spells at the unencumbered wyverns, drawing their attention. The creatures gave chase, leaving Nanao free to take on the dragoon one-on-one. But before their second clash, black smoke began leaking from the wyvern's jawbones.

"Hrm!"

Spotting the warm-up to a breath attack, Nanao pulled hard to the lower left. The wyvern's jaws opened, and it belched a pitch-black smog, polluting the air. To the rear, Oliver gulped. Being undead, the breath's element did not match that of a living wyvern, but bathing in it would prove equally deadly. Nanao enhanced her katana with the oppositional element, negating what smog she couldn't dodge—

"""SYURAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"""

—and in that moment, the dragoon swung its massive glaive through the mask of smog. Nanao leaned out of the way and was through the clash. Feeling the sting of the smog on her skin, she snorted.

"That breath is a nuisance. How might I turn the tables here?"

It wouldn't be easy. Turning to avoid the breath was too large a disruption to her flight path and inevitably slowed her momentum. She could stifle it with the oppositional element, but plunging directly into the breath would leave her exposed to the dragoon's glaive in poor visibility. Defending against two attacks with one katana was no trifling matter, and she was still considering her options as each completed their turn, heading into the next clash.

"Phew!"

On the approach, another billowing breath. Stifling that, Nanao turned downward, going under the wyvern, assuming that given where the dragoon was mounted, no swing of its glaive could reach her. Yet—

"""SYURAAA!"""

—as the veil of smog parted, she found herself face-to-face with the dragoon, mounted upside down, its glaive coming straight at her. A snap of her katana deflected the strike, but the jolt had a significant impact on her speed. Her opponent had done a 180-degree roll to match her position, and as she evened out her path, Nanao couldn't help but be impressed.

"You predicted my move? This will not be so simple!"

"Don't rush the outcome!" Lesedi roared. "That's a bad habit, Hibiya! Remember, you've got backup with you!"

That made Nanao reconsider her strategy.

"Point taken. That was exceedingly rash," she murmured.

A swift dispatch, freeing her up to assist others—years fighting outnumbered in a doomed war back home had left that attitude ingrained. But that was not needed here. She had reliable comrades, and their help would lead her to victory.

"In which case, I shall end it in three."

She cast off the unconscious shackles, focusing on gaining speed for the next exchange.

"…Yes, Nanao. That's it," Oliver muttered, watching from above, seeing her fight the way she ought to. "Don't make this about reading each other's next move and snatching victory from those slim margins. You never once needed that. This is your sky, and you're faster than anyone."

What she did next was much as he'd imagined it. After the second clash, she opened up the throttle and turned part of her speed advantage into altitude. And with that behind her, Nanao slashed at the dragoon from above—the exact opposite of her last approach, and for a very simple reason. At this height, the wyvern couldn't aim its breath higher; if it rolled to do so, the glaive wouldn't reach.

"SYURAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The speed advantage was too great for it to handle a head-on rush. Sensing that, the dragoon dropped the glaive and pulled new weapons from its hips, one in each of its six limbs. The blades were dramatically curved—these were harpes, hardly designed for jousting. The dragoon's goal here was to pull Nanao into a mutually assured destruction. But—

"Impetus!"

—even with blades brandished before her, Nanao wreathed the wind around her own blade, sweeping them all aside. Her slice went through the dragoon's spine to the wyvern's, sending both rider and mount plunging to the ground below.

"Nice! Let's finish off the others!" Lesedi yelled.

Nanao had taken out the real threat, and now they could double up on each of the remaining wyverns. This proved little challenge, and no sooner were they downed than Lesedi put her broom into a dive toward the ground below.

"Mm? Descending now?" Yuri asked.

"The dragoon's got me curious. Like that shadow manipulator, it goes against standard necromancy. Might learn something from the remains."

Back on solid ground at last, they found the downed dragoon on its crumpled mount, a silent heap of bones. But Lesedi approached with caution, athame at the ready. Nanao had cut the rider free of the wyvern, but part of that six-armed, three-faced soldier was still moving, harpe in hand, despite the incomplete skeleton. Lesedi swiftly kicked it apart and made observations on the remains.

"…Yeah, it wasn't just riding. The dragoon's bones were fused with the wyvern's at the back. Reminds me of Ophelia's chimeras."

The younger students mulled that over. The rider hadn't been mounted—more like it had sprouted, growing directly from the wyvern's spine. No such creature could exist in the natural order of things.

"…Uh…"

Lesedi had been taking the wyvern half apart, but once she got to where the heart would be, she found a bizarre bony lump. She split it open with her athame and revealed a shard of bone within, the size of a pinkie. Hefting it with her wand, she had the rest of the group take a closer look.

"…Not a wyvern bone or a zahhak's," she said. "Clearly human and relatively new. Gotta assume it's the core of some spell."

"A human bone? Then—"

"Sadly, not the piece Godfrey's missing. The mana signature feels familiar. I suspect this is Rivermoore's own bone. But how this functioned, I can't say."

After a few more observations, she wrapped the bone in insulation paper and pocketed it. None of them was well versed in necromancy so they couldn't exactly do a deeper analysis on the spot.

Putting it out of her mind, Lesedi told the group, "Either way, too many fights in rapid succession. Fatigue affects your battle performance, so rest is key. Other squads will have secured bases; let's head to one of those."

Regaining stealth, they proceeded on foot a good two hours before reaching the frontline base. Through the well-camouflaged entrance, a path led down, and inside they found the bulk of a familiar troll.

"Marco! Keeping guard, are you?"

"Katie must've summoned him. You're not hurt, are you, Marco?"

"Mm. Nanao, Oliver. Glad you safe."

The two gave Marco a hug as they spoke. Hearing footsteps rushing over, Oliver turned—just as Shannon clung to him.

"Noll!"

"S-Sis… Really, don't do this in front of people."

"Hmm…so it's okay in private," came a voice as frosty as Shannon's was warm.

Making no move to fend off his cousin, Oliver looked around—and found a curly-haired girl, arms crossed, glaring at him.

"Katie…"

"Nanao, Mr. Leik, Ms. Ingwe, welcome. There's tea brewing, but none for Oliver. He already has his hands full."

With that, she pursed her lips, pointedly turned away, and stormed off. Oliver went limp in his cousin's arms, and three other friends took Katie's place.

"Don't worry—she's putting your cup on, too," Guy assured him.

"Guy, Chela, Pete…"

"Her compulsion to compete with Ms. Sherwood baffles us all. When she's done so much for Katie…"

Chela shook her head, and Pete shrugged, snorting. Oliver was now vainly struggling to peel himself away—and Lesedi grabbed his shoulder.

"Horn, one extra rule just for you. Don't bring your love life onto the battleground. Hear me? You're digging up a bunch of memories I'd rather leave buried, and it's making me wanna puke."

"I-I'll bear it in mind…"

She clearly had history with this, and her glare was so intense, he could only nod. At that point, Shannon finally released him, and they were led into the break room. Plain chairs and tables—and at the back, the Toxic Gasser was sipping his tea.

"'Sup, Team Horn plus one. Looks like nobody died?"

"Who you calling 'plus one'? I ain't letting anyone die on my watch. You didn't accidentally poison any of yours, right?"

"I did not. It's such a pain in the ass! Their toxin resistances are total garbage. Most Watch members can inhale a fume or two, but these kids? Nooope."

"Nobody wanted it that way anyhow."

Their standard-issue banter. Lesedi took a seat, and her team settled in, too. Oliver glanced around the room and saw Stacy to one side, avidly performing a physical exam on a shirtless Fay. He waved a hand at them, and they responded in kind.

Soon enough, Katie had tea for everyone, and Guy plonked a plate of cakes in the middle of the table. Oliver was relieved to find there was a cup for him. Once everyone had refreshed themselves, Lesedi put down her cup.

"Okay, let's trade intel. We've brought back a broad grasp of the land and combat with a zahhak and an undead dragoon, both results of mystery meddling. The latter we took down, recovering what seems to be one of Rivermoore's own bones from the remains—"

"Then you chickened out and ran from the other?" Tim cut in.

"I will kill you."

"I'm kidding. We got kids with us; can't take the risk. We were much the same. Two squads together took out a big-ass ghoul and secured a similar bone fragment. I thought it was the same thing I'd fought in the past at first, but it transformed into something else halfway. Aalto's familiars and Mr. Willock really pulled their weight in that fight."

"Oh-ho!"

"They did?"

Nanao and Oliver looked to Katie, but she refused to meet their eyes—possibly stewing over what she'd said earlier. They moved on to the other person mentioned, but Stacy was yanking his wrist, pulling him back down.

"Don't move, Fay! I'm not done with the exam!"

"You've examined everything twice, Stace. Let me get dressed."

Oliver grinned at the display, but Lesedi was already back to business. She and Tim unwrapped the insulating paper, placing the two bone fragments on the table and scowling down at them.

"These are definitely bugging me. Rivermoore stealing bones was just his thing, but I never heard of anyone finding pieces of him in his familiars before," said Lesedi. "Might be a clue to figuring out his motives and hiding spot."

"I thought the same, but no one here's much use at reverse engineering necromancy spell components. Was there anyone on the other teams?" Tim asked.

Lesedi frowned, thinking—and Shannon quietly rose to her feet.

"May…I see those?"

"Mm? Think you can get anything from 'em, Shannon?"

Lesedi slid the bones down the table. Shannon came closer, touched her finger to them, and closed her eyes.

"…Mm… Got it…"

Most people present did not know what this meant. But Oliver did. If anyone could glean a clue directly from the bones themselves, it was Shannon.

"…I'll share. Wands together…if you wish to know…"

Her eyes half-lidded, she held out her white wand, and though uncertain, the others placed theirs on it. Oliver among them.

"...!"

In that moment, all five of his senses were overwhelmed by a powerful vision.

Clear fall skies. A quiet coast, the beach running as far as the eye could see.

That alone would make for a pleasant walk. But each step taken made his feet sink deeper into the sand. Ever vigilant against loss of balance, he pressed on, walking like a laden mountaineer.

"Yeah, this is the life! A nice stroll along the shore. The pleasant lapping of the waves, the breeze on your face, the seashells sparkling in the sun!"

"…Agreed, but not when I'm carrying a stupid-heavy coffin on my back."

The girl's voice bright and cheery, the boy's gasped between heavy breaths. The coffin he carried was taller than him, this ordeal all the fault of his burden.

"Now, now, Cyrus, keep those eyes up! Back straight! If you stare at your feet, I can't see anything! The blue of the ocean requires the blue of the skies above; I don't make the rules."

His burden shared his sight and complained accordingly. This seemed unfair, and the boy scowled.

"All this and I gotta straighten up…? Are you sure you haven't already turned evil?"

"Ah-ha-ha-ha! I actually have! I'm an evil ghost haunting you, Cyrus! You're on to my game, but too late—your back is already my permanent seat!"

Her voice cried out in triumph, and the boy continued carrying her on along the shore. It was far too late to complain. This burden was his to bear.

"Hark at this, then. It'll be your coffin, Cyrus."

That was the day. Light streaming in the windows lit upon the sides of a coffin, before which stood a burly old-timer and a boy who barely batted an eye at the dire proclamation.

"…I know it well, Great-Grandfather. You've always had it with you."

"Gah-ha-ha-ha! That I did. But the spiel needs to be said. Each coffin must always have a bearer; that is our way. I entrust this one to you, my great-grandson. I carried it a long time, but age has caught up with me. My back's not what it once was."

The old-timer slapped his back. The boy found it hard to believe the old ox could be that feeble, but he dared not say so. His great-grandfather patted the coffin's side.

"Your duty, first and foremost, is to keep it safe. And more than anything—to release what lies within. I never managed the second, much to my chagrin."

He spoke with great regret. Surprised at the depth of it, the boy nodded gravely.

"I'm familiar with the Rivermoore calling. But if this one is to be mine, then what are those?"

He looked beyond his inheritance to the back wall, where more coffins stood. The light left the old man's eyes.

"Curious? Then go on…touch them."

The boy did as he was told. Moving closer, he placed his palm on one.

"From the roots the mold around my hands cracking cracking cracking crying shut up go away you're twisting my heart it hurts it hurts where are my legs my legs please bring the breeze please the dust is anyone there—?"

The words came flooding up his fingers like a string of curses. He snatched his hand away like he'd touched hot steel.

"…Ngh…!"

"You heard, then. The insides of those coffins have gone bad. We're saying prayers to console them, but there's nothing to be gained by opening them now. When I said, 'keep it safe,' I meant do anything you can to keep her from ending up like them."

The boy swallowed hard. The old man beckoned him back to his coffin.

"The connection's been made. Hand on the coffin and make your acquaintance. She's been waiting for you."

Up close, it looked no different from that other coffin. The boy wasn't looking forward to this, but no necromancer could fear the dead. His mind made up, he reached out—

"Finallyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

—and the voice he heard betrayed his every expectation.

"You are so, so, so, so slow! I've been waiting foreeeeeever! I was starting to wonder if your whole clan had up and died on me! You don't wanna scare the dead, buster. Or you might just kick-start the countdown to crazy ghost town!"

She didn't even take a breath. This was nothing like the curses and wailings so common to the undead—she was just a chatterbox. That was his first impression and one she never shook him of.

"Either way, you're the one hauling—I mean, protecting me this go-around? I know all about you, Cyrus. I saw everything through Douglas's eyes," the voice said. "I'm Fau. I used to have a lot more titles and things, but they don't matter anymore, so best we just keep it simple. I'm so glad I finally get to talk to you! Not that you've said anything yet!"

With that, she added, "Okay, we've got a lot to go over, but lemme say the most important thing up front. I love taking walks! So you're gonna love it, too! Better start training those leg muscles now!"

Her declaration rang out loud and clear. And thus, the boy forged a bond with the coffin he would shoulder through the years.

"Was that…?"

The memory complete, all eyes blinked open, and Lesedi gave her neighbor a shocked look.

"Rivermoore's memories? How—? You read them from the bone, Shannon?"

Shannon nodded faintly, and her brother, Gwyn, stepped in to explain.

"The logic's simple. Just as Godfrey lost a chunk of his ether along with the bone, Rivermoore's bone has a piece of his ether attached. And the ether is a cluster of information. Shannon can read that—basically a higher form of séances or possession."

"…Damn," Tim said. "It's one thing with a ghost who has the whole etheric body, but getting all that from a tiny scrap with no mind to speak of? What kind of etheric abilities are we dealing with here…?"

He was glancing back and forth between Shannon and the bone, but Lesedi was already folding her arms.

"Well, it's a windfall either way. That memory's likely connected to the heart of his sorcery. Not something he'd readily tell an outsider, anyway. And the old man he was speaking to—pretty sure that was Douglas Rivermoore. Not all that long ago, he failed his two-century passage and perished."

She muttered to herself a moment, then put the thought aside.

"Biggest mystery here is the coffin Rivermoore's great-grandfather entrusted to him. Whatever that thing is, it's clearly the root of all his actions."

"Was that an undead?" Yuri asked. "She seemed super bubbly."

"It's not unheard of," Tim said. "Rare to have them be that clear and conscious, but he was also told to make sure she didn't lose herself. The question is: Whose ghost is she?"

Lesedi snorted. "We don't know enough to say, but if we learn more, we might start to see the shape of things. We can glean information from his bones, and the strongest undead out there have those fragments. Which means…"

"If we keep hunting the toughest undead, what we learn will bring us closer to him. That makes our purpose clear," Chela summed up.

"There's still a possibility of false info clouding the picture." Lesedi rubbed her chin. "But given how unorthodox Shannon's approach is, gotta say it ain't likely. And getting to him through the stronger undead was always the plan. So that settles it," Lesedi said. "Focus on taking out the toughest he's got, and make sure you bring back the bones inside 'em. Send out your familiars and let the other squads know!"

The mages sprang into action, certain these steps would bring them closer to their quarry.