CHAPTER - 3 ANCIENT RECORDS

When Kimberly students become upperclassmen, several roadblocks 

lie in their way—and one of the biggest is entering the labyrinth's 

fourth layer.

"I've heard of precious few s-second-years making it down here. 

Even with help…they just g-get in the way. I didn't set foot down 

here until, I think…the end of my fourth year. And I got m-my arm 

melted off, so…it was m-memorable."

The third layer—the Miasma Marsh. Leaving tracks in the sticky mud, 

the gaunt young man beside Oliver spoke with a mild stutter. A sixthyear student by the name of Robert Dufourcq. One of the comrades 

who knew Oliver's hidden face, he always wore a gloomy smile.

"Yeah, I remember that! You went into the assignment insisting you 

only needed backup from the rear. If I hadn't stepped in, you'd have 

lost half your body, maybe even ended up with your name in the 

joint funeral two years ago."

The girl teasing him was another comrade, a seventh-year named 

Karlie Buckle who had short red hair and pierced ears. Her plainspoken manner came across as friendly, but there was a dangerous 

gleam in her eyes that made her slightly unapproachable.

"C-can't argue th-there. But…y-you didn't get off any easier. You're 

scary enough without acid b-burning half your face off—"

"You wanna talk shit about my face, there'll be consequences."

Her hand had the back of Robert's head in a vise grip. Bones creaked. 

Oliver's cousin Gwyn coughed pointedly.

Karlie let go and flashed Oliver a smile.

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"Sorry, Your Majesty. I'm a real loudmouth. Always have been! Can't 

stand being quiet. Go ahead and chide me for it; I don't mind. Hey, 

maybe I should be stressing this a bit more." 

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"…No need."

Oliver shook his head, unable to think of any worthy reproach. He 

might be only in his second year, but with this mask on, he was their 

lord. If his vassals were distracted, upperclassmen or not, he was 

prepared to snap at them. But here?

"It's a comfort. I'm not yet capable of joking on this layer."

Karlie's trash talk might include a knock against him, but she wasn't 

letting her guard down. This was how she always acted—proof she 

knew how to handle the situation at hand.

"Hmph, least you admit it," she replied with a snort. "But is that a 

virtue for a man in your position?"

"Karlie!" Gwyn snapped. She was a year older than him, but he was 

Oliver's right hand. "Get off Noll's back. And Robert, don't just stand 

there! Stop her."

Karlie shrugged this off, and Robert bobbed his head, glancing

sideways at Oliver.

"S-sorry, Gwyn. B-but…I'd also like to talk to him. While I have the 

chance."

They all had good reason for wanting to know Oliver better. And he 

was perfectly aware of this, hence why he hadn't pushed them away.

"It's fine," Oliver said, waving his brother down. "Don't worry about 

me, Gwyn."

But just as things seemed settled, a girl caught up from behind, 

moving into the space between his comrades. Oliver blinked at his 

sister—Shannon Sherwood's usual gentle smile was conspicuously 

absent.

"Heh-heh-heh, looks like someone disagrees," Karlie jeered, not even 

trying to hide the look in her eyes: Ain't it nice to have your cousin 

protecting you, little lord?

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Oliver held his tongue, racking his brain over how best to handle her.

"…Don't…be mean…to Noll!"

"I'm just messin' with him. Did it seem mean?"

"…It did. Like…no answer he gives will please you."

"Ah-ha-ha! Guess it was kinda obvious."

Karlie doubled over laughing, not a trace of guilt. Palpable tension 

crackled between the two girls—but then strong vibrations rose up 

from the mud at their feet. Oliver was about to bark a warning when 

Karlie grabbed his collar and pulled him to one side.

"–––––!"

And the moment he vacated the space, the ground burst. Spraying 

mud everywhere, a wyrm emerged, easily over ten yards long. One 

of the third layer's biggest threats, they detected the vibrations of 

mages walking overhead and attacked from below. Sawlike teeth 

lined its ring-shaped maw, and it wheeled in the air, aimed for 

Oliver's head, intent on capturing the prey it had just been denied.

""""Tonitrus!""""

Four spells cast in unison shot directly into that gaping maw. The 

creature's long, thick body shook and went still—then flopped to the 

mud, blowing bubbles. Before Oliver could get his wits about him, 

Shannon was at his side. None of his comrades paid the least bit of 

attention to the downed foe.

"We're almost out of the third layer," Karlie said. "It's about to get 

dicey. You ready for it, Your Majesty?"

"…Yeah." Oliver nodded, not letting himself shudder. To the 

upperclassmen, that attack hadn't even qualified as dicey, a point 

they'd made all too clear.

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It was another twenty minutes before they reached the end of the 

marsh. Now in territory beyond where the Ophelia incident had 

taken him, Oliver came to a halt, a knot in his stomach. The shift in 

his surroundings was all too clear. The ground, walls, and ceiling 

were all made of shiny stone. He and his comrades were in an 

ellipsoid clearing the size of the campus arena, at the back of which 

lay double doors.

"…So this is…"

"The way to the fourth layer. Commonly called Library Plaza."

Even as Karlie spoke, changes were unfolding before Oliver's eyes. 

The space before the doors warped, and a black thing emerged. Like 

a bundle of pitch-black rags, it quickly took form, stabilizing as a 

gaunt figure over seven feet tall, its head hidden beneath that black 

cloth. It spoke not a word, but the mana radiating from it—nay, the 

aura of death—left Oliver's hand scrabbling for his athame.

"…!"

"Relax! You won't be fighting that. Not that the real foe is much of an 

improvement…"

Karlie patted his shoulders and then glanced back at the rest of their 

comrades.

"As planned, we'll be handling tasks in threes. Me and Robert will 

keep the king safe. We still good with that, Sherwoods?"

"…N—"

"We are."

Shannon started to object, but Gwyn cut her off, nodding in 

agreement. Oliver said nothing, but Gwyn's interjection was greatly 

appreciated. He valued his sister's concern, but he wouldn't be much 

of a lord if he allowed only his family to protect him.

"I'll be fine. You two look after Teresa."

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"…Noll…"

"Got it."

Shannon still looked nervous, but Gwyn nodded grimly. Teresa 

simply watched everything, her eyes betraying no emotion. Oliver 

turned his back on them and joined the two older comrades, 

advancing to the center of the plaza.

"Looks like you got your wits about ya," Karlie said. "But all kidding 

aside—do not step out in front of us."

"Or rather, we won't l-let you. If anyone's d-dying here, it'll be us ffirst."

Robert's halting speech was accompanied by a gloomy smile. Oliver 

didn't doubt him for a moment, but chose to respond as a lord 

should.

"Then I have but one thing to say: I have not granted either of you 

permission to die here."

Those words came like a slap on their backs, and both his comrades 

grinned.

"Ha-ha! You got it."

"F-fair warning. Let's m-make this look easy."

Karlie and Robert raised their athames. A moment later, a book 

appeared in the black-robed figure's hands.

Spotting the cover, Karlie yelled, "Luck's on our side! I've seen it 

before. Our assigned reading is Baltro's Memoirs!"

Several dozen pages flew up from the book, cocooning the trio in a 

swirl of paper that instantly revamped their surroundings. Oliver 

could no longer see his cousins or Teresa.

"Ch-chapter eight, verse two! The G-Glynntoad Calamity!"

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By the time Robert finished, they were elsewhere. Surrounded by 

rustic farmland. Ordinaries tilling the fields with hoes in hand, or 

milking cows—which Oliver found inherently unnerving. It was all far 

too dated, from the people's clothes to the way they worked. This 

had to be over two hundred years ago—before the magical industrial 

revolution.

"S-surprised? J-just as it l-looks. P-part of the t-tome's contents hhave been recreated."

"Escape ain't impossible, so it's better than an aria in that respect. 

Except—this library's pretty well stocked."

Oliver was catching up. The view before him wasn't real—it was 

sourced from the book. He knew not where or when this was, but—it 

was the stage of the calamity Robert had mentioned. And proof of 

that lay in how nobody around was aware of their presence.

"Baltro's Memoirs, chapter eight, verse two—an account of a 

migration witnessed in the year 984. And the casualties it brought 

about."

Even as she spoke, Karlie's eyes were on the sky above. It wasn't 

quite noon yet, and the weather was overcast—but at the center of 

those clouds was a dark, swirling vortex. The ordinaries around them 

spotted it, too, pointing and yelling.

"Here it comes. Watch close—this is the calamity the tír bring to our 

world."

And a moment later, hundreds of things poured out of the vortex, 

falling toward the ground. They appeared to be short cylinders, 

seven feet in diameter—rusty gears or wheels. But as they slammed 

into the earth, they began spinning like ball golems—and causing 

devastation.

"Eek…?!"

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"Aughhhhhh!"

Fields, homes, livestock, people; the wheel-like things made no 

distinctions, crushing all in their paths. The sight of their neighbors' 

demise left the survivors screaming. Waves of fear rippled across the 

landscape. The wheels made no effort to pursue the fleeing humans, 

simply tracing elaborate geometric spirals from the outside in, 

flattening everything in their paths.

As the screams rang in his ears, Oliver fought the impulse to do 

something. The sights before him were but a recreation; this tragedy 

was long in the past. He knew this, but it ate at him.

"You see what they're doing? That's what we call indiscriminate 

feeding. Often seen in packs after an unplanned migration. They've 

found themselves in a whole new world and don't know right from 

left, so they just try eating everything to see if it goes down. Plants or 

animals, animate or inanimate, no distinction. They just eat and puke 

till they find things that suit their fancy."

Karlie's lecture helped Oliver understand what he was witnessing. 

Those wheels were alive. When he looked closely, people, livestock, 

and dwellings alike were losing mass far beyond what could be 

explained by mere crushing. It boggled the mind, but it seemed these 

monsters fed by running things over. That was how the wheels ate 

and how they hunted.

They were utterly different from the creatures of this world. Even 

magical creatures had not evolved like this. These creatures must 

have hailed from a fundamentally different ecosystem, otherwise 

they never would have evolved to acquire these characteristics. 

Uninvited guests from a strange and terrible world—the essence of a 

migration.

"Uh-oh. They're c-coming this way."

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Robert pointed. A wheel was rolling toward them. Karlie pointed her 

athame in its direction.

"Better take a look at this one. Colligationem."

Her spell hit the wheel a few yards out, stopping it dead, like it was in 

the grip of an invisible hand. She'd forcibly restrained it with a 

binding spell.

"Okay, safe to inspect. The shape's a doozy, but the actual physical 

construction is on the comprehensible side for migrations. Pack 

hunting ain't too far-flung from the creatures we know and love, 

right?"

Karlie launched right into a lecture, maintaining the constraint. The 

mana output this required was no small feat. Impressed, Oliver 

focused on the tír creature before him, eyes poring over it. Robert 

was using his athame to dissect the wheel. Where he cut, gray fluid 

spilled out, revealing soft tissues beneath—likely organs. It really was

alive.

"Casualties are pretty high even at this stage, but once they've 

locked onto their prey, they get far worse. Best to make the most of 

it. You know—while they're still preoccupied."

She finished off the restrained wheel and turned her eyes toward the 

indiscriminate feeders. Easy enough to handle on their own, but the 

assignment was to take out the whole pack.

"Going one at a time'll take forever. But there's a great way to 

handle foes like this. Robert, take 'em out."

"A-alone? You could h-help, you know."

He shook his head and stepped forward. He opened the front of his 

robe, revealing dozens of test tubes strapped beneath it. Each had a 

magical creature sealed within—radiating magical malevolence. He 

selected one—a type of fairy—and popped the lid.

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"Satus sursum."

The spell released the fairy from torpor, and it shook itself, hopped 

out of the tube, and flew off toward the migratory monsters. This 

behavior was mandated by the spell cast on it. But of course, a tiny 

fairy had no recourse against a mighty wheel. It was crushed and 

eaten—along with the curse it harbored.

The infected wheel's behavior immediately changed. The precise 

coordination was gone, and it charged right at its own pack. The 

wheel it struck changed with it, the curse spreading like waves. The 

migrant monsters were now feeding on one another. Oliver 

shuddered, balling his fists tightly.

"Works like a charm!" Karlie said. "Cannibal curses are just the thing 

for close-knit packs."

That was all it took for Oliver to catch on. This was how curses 

worked: use a creature harboring a curse as a medium to transfer 

the spell, feeding it to your target to infect them. And not just the 

target itself—contact with the infected host would spread that curse 

through the whole population. The wheels crashed into each other, 

splitting open, cracking, then collapsing.

"They're going down fast! But don't relax yet. The curse intensity 

ain't dropping at all. That shit stacks each time they feed. The law of 

curse conservation! If we see this through to the bitter end…"

As the numbers dwindled, the fighting was getting more intense. 

Each slain fellow was multiplying the curse's effects, concentrating 

them in the remaining wheels. A hundred wheels became fifty, fifty 

became twenty, and twenty became ten. Their clashes were 

ceaseless. At length, there were only two left, and they crashed 

head-on into each other—then only one remained, radiating an inkyblack aura.

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"You get one left, and it's stuffed. And if you kill it, the curse leaks 

out. Normally, you'd catch it and break the curse, but this is just an 

ancient record, so we don't need the follow-through. Curse effects in 

assignments are neatly handled by the library itself."

Karlie cast a burst spell to get its attention. The last wheel rolled 

toward the noise, its inherent nature entirely overwritten by the 

curse, its cognitive functions reduced to the instinct to crush and eat 

anything that moved. Oliver raised his athame. The sole survivor was 

twice the size of the others, and the curses it had absorbed made it 

far stronger. But…

"Now, now, hold your horses, Your Majesty."

Karlie waved him down, then stepped forward. Robert backed off, 

standing by Oliver's side. Yielding the stage to her.

"…Haaaaah…"

She took a long, deep breath. The closer this thing got, the more 

dangerous it was, but Karlie wasn't budging. The wheel bore down 

on her, its hostility palpable. Unable to bear it, Oliver cried out, 

"Karlie!"

"Extruditor!"

The moment he yelled, she'd finally swung her athame. Not to attack 

head-on, though; just as her target seemed about to hit, she'd struck 

a blow to its side—like a hook to the brow. The wheel creature was 

moving at top speed, powerless to resist a push from that angle. It 

rolled right past Karlie before toppling over onto its side. It spun 

uselessly, scattering dust, pebbles, and the blood of its own kind.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Just keep on spinning!"

Karlie pounced on it. She landed on the wheel's side, at the center 

axle—no matter how fast it spun, it could do nothing to her there. It 

shot out a bunch of spikes to protect its weakness, but she'd known 

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that was coming, easily dodged, and stabbed her blade straight into 

the creature. She didn't even need to move her athame. With the 

blade held still, the wheel kept spinning, driven by instinct—and 

delivering a fatal wound via the same principle as a can opener.

"Bye-bye. Impetus."

Once the lid was open, Karlie didn't hesitate. She pounded home a 

spell to finish it off. It was like a hammer of wind slamming into the 

wheel's insides, forcing the severed disc inward and crushing all the 

soft bits beyond. A moment later, bodily fluids squirted out in all 

directions.

"Okay, assignment complete," she said. "Mm? Your Majesty, did you 

call my name just now?"

Covered in gray fluid, Karlie turned back to Oliver, grinning. She was 

a grisly sight.

"N-nasty, right? Th-that's why they call her Bloody Karlie. She does 

the s-same shit to people, too."

"..."

Oliver had no words, but relief was winning out. They'd gotten 

through this without any injuries.

"We lucked into an easy assignment," Karlie said. "These can get real 

bad if the draw's against you."

Their surroundings were already fading, giving way to the big doors 

they started at. She glanced back at Gwyn's group, giving them a 

wave.

"Goin' on in! We'll show him around."

"We'll be right behind. Don't go too deep," Gwyn called.

Oliver's group moved on through the open doors. When all three 

were inside, the doors swung shut with a loud clunk. The rules 

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precluded anyone from entering unless they completed an 

assignment, and the rest of Oliver's comrades would face a trial of 

their own. He'd just have to trust his cousins and wait.

"Welcome, Your Majesty," Karlie said, swinging round to face him, 

arms outstretched, "to a place no second-years ever tread—the 

labyrinth's fourth layer, the Library of the Depths."

Oliver swiveled his head; the view blew him away. A tower of 

bookshelves stretching skyward as far as the eye could see. 

Countless staircases ran this way and that across the void, and 

winged demis flew between.

"…Harpies…"

"They're the books' caretakers. Not hired by Kimberly—they've been 

living down here since before the labyrinth was even discovered. 

They can be a little temperamental, but they'll also serve as guides. 

When you come to return a book, you'll want to give it to them."

Karlie ran down the rules. Several harpies observed the trio, but they 

didn't seem hostile. This place was not a library merely in name.

As the three moved forward, carefully looking things over, a blackrobed figure approached—the same type of being that had given

them their assigned reading. When Oliver looked tense, Karlie leaned 

in.

"The things in black are the watchmen. Can you tell what they are?"

He felt the smirk in her voice. One figure passed, and he caught a 

glimpse inside the robes; his hair stood on end. There was a scythe in 

one hand and a skull with eyes of infinite blackness. A being he'd 

only read about in books.

"Reapers…!"

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"H-hilarious, r-right? Almost nowhere else can you still see d-death 

seraphs. But here they are, on p-patrol." Robert stifled a hollow 

laugh.

In the age of god, seraphs had been sent out into the world, playing 

their part in the grand scheme. Reapers were but one type, 

responsible for maintaining order over life and death. It was said 

they still appeared if mages attempted to escape their mortality, but 

few had ever seen them. Though some held this was because the 

sight of a reaper ensured your death.

"Even we'd be sunk if we tried to fight them. Be on your best 

behavior. If you follow the rules, they won't bug you."

"…What kinds of rules, exactly?"

"Don't damage the books, remove them without permission, return 

them late, cause problems within the library itself, et cetera. The 

Survivor tried to cook in here once and nearly got himself killed. A 

real moron, that guy."

Karlie cackled. That definitely sounded like something Kevin Walker 

would do.

"Every book in here is one of those forbidden tomes. The bulk of 

them date from before the calendar began. To mages, a true 

treasure trove, but a mistake here—and the books'll eat you. Don't 

even dare treat this like an extension of the school's library."

Oliver nodded. He was certainly very interested, although reaching 

for a book would likely be perilous at this point.

When she was sure he properly understood the threat, Karlie took 

her broom off her back and hopped aboard.

"C'mon. Broom use isn't forbidden, but if you go too fast, it'll earn 

you some nasty glares."

"A-are you good at l-low speeds? W-we could go tandem."

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A generous offer, but Oliver shook his head, mounting his own 

broom and taking off. He was certainly no match for Nanao's 

maneuvering, but he'd had the basics drilled into him by now. He 

certainly didn't need help flying slowly.

As he started to rise, he heard the doors close behind him. He spun 

toward them.

"…Someone just left?"

"An upperclassman here before us. Don't worry, everyone hides 

their faces here. Even if someone sees, no one will think we're out of 

place."

Karlie seemed unperturbed. Oliver was less convinced, but he 

followed her and Robert's lead.

Meanwhile, two layers up, a different trio were tackling the 

labyrinth's giant tree.

"…! Hng…!"

Doing his best not to look down, Pete shimmied up the irminsul after 

Guy. The broom on his back had a lifeline attached, and they'd 

practiced casting deceleration spells in case they did fall, but that did 

nothing for the sheer terror of being a good hundred and fifty feet 

up. With his nonmagical background, Pete was especially terrified.

"Make it up here, and we can rest!" Guy called. "Think you can do it, 

Pete?"

"Of—of course I can!" the bespectacled boy said, summoning every 

ounce of tenacity he had. "This is…nothing…!"

He felt a hand on his back. Katie was bringing up the rear.

"Don't force it, Pete. Your legs are getting wobbly. Let's take a seat 

for a minute."

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Kind but firm. She and Guy had both spent more time down here 

than Pete and were playing support and leadership roles, 

respectively. When Pete still refused to rest, she quickly passed a 

rope, tying it to a protrusion on the tree.

"See? You're secured and safe. Sit down."

"…Urgh…"

She'd done all the work for him, and he was forced to take a seat 

next to her. While they caught their breath, Guy came back down. He 

looked Pete over and made a face.

"Got tuckered out halfway, huh? I told you the third marker was far 

enough for today."

"To hell with that," Pete insisted. "I'm not letting you get any further 

ahead."

Guy shrugged. "You spend every day drowning in books and still 

wanna keep up with us on labyrinth stuff? I applaud the 

determination, but it's too much."

"It's nowhere near enough. I can't stay a liability," Pete hissed, biting 

his lip.

Katie patted him on the back. "You don't want Oliver worrying about 

you, huh? I know how that feels."

"I—I didn't say—"

"Sure, sure, you didn't," Guy teased. "And you'll get out of breath 

again, so no more chatter."

Pete fell silent. Watching their surroundings closely, the group rested 

for another five minutes, then resumed their climb. Struggling with 

the steep slope, Pete grumbled, "Argh… If we could just use our 

brooms, we'd be over this in no time…"

"I'd love to, but see those things up above?"

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Guy pointed, and Pete looked up. There were a few dozen bird 

wyverns wheeling overhead right above the three of them—hardly a 

coincidence.

"They'll attack the moment we leave the ground. I tried taking the 

easy route once, and it did not end well. Best to accept brooms here 

are nothing but a lifeline for if you slip."

"If you balance properly, you can minimize the fatigue. That doesn't 

come easy, but you'll get used to it in time."

Katie's voice from behind, Guy's from up ahead—being flanked like 

this was definitely reassuring, but it also drove home how much Pete 

still had to learn. He didn't want to lag behind the two of them.

"The last part's extra steep. Hang on, I'll lower a rope."

Guy scrambled up the tricky section and got a rope secured. Pete had 

been using both hands to hang onto the tree, so he willingly 

switched to the rope—it was best to keep your dominant hand free 

in case of magical beast attacks.

"Better make it quick. Linger here, and they'll think you're 

vulnerable."

Taking Guy's advice to heart, the other two pressed on—and Katie 

saw a shadow closing in behind the tall boy.

"…?! Guy, behind you! Look out!"

"Huh?"

Guy spun around and found a demon ape's arm swinging right at 

him. He reflexively reached for his athame, but before he could 

defend himself, the blow knocked him sideways. He was flung off the 

tree into the air.

"Guy!" Pete yelled—and Guy's fall stopped.

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Sensing its partner in trouble, his broom had taken flight, and the 

lifeline had left Guy dangling in the air. But that was still very 

exposed. And the hit had shaken him up enough he wasn't thinking 

straight yet.

"…Uh… Ah…?"

"Guy, move! The wyverns…!" Katie yelled.

That snapped him out of it. His left hand closed on the broom 

handle—and the bird wyverns swooped down toward him.

"Ah—ahhhhh!"

Their attack hit before he could reach the tree again. He managed to 

free his athame and fight back. Katie and Pete covered him as best 

they could from the tree but weren't able to deflect all the wyvern 

strikes. One of the bird wyverns slipped through the spells and 

knocked the athame out of Guy's hand, and the next one bit the rope 

stretched between him and his broom.

"Ah—"

The rope snapped, and Guy dropped, no safety measures left. As he 

fell, he tried to grab his white wand, but his fingers weren't moving 

right. The athame loss had left him with a gouged tendon. Katie and 

Pete couldn't get to him in time. He hurtled straight toward the 

ground—

"Elletardus."

A force caught him, powerful enough for it to hurt. His descent 

slowed until he was hovering just above the ground, and an arm 

wrapped around his chest. Oliver's catches were a gentle embrace, 

and this was far rougher—yet that drove home the fact that he was 

alive.

"Gah-ha! Been a while since I caught a plummeter! I just happened 

to be right under you—you got good luck, kid."

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A hearty laugh echoed in Guy's ears. Pete and Katie caught up on 

their brooms, landing by their friend and his savior before running 

over.

"Guy, are you okay…?"

"Any injuries?!"

"Mm, a trio of second-years? That's pushing it. You oughta bring an 

upperclassman with you."

The burly older boy put Guy down, looking at each person in turn. 

Katie and Pete weren't listening—they had their athames pointed 

skyward. Their friend had survived his fall, but those bird wyverns 

were still hot on his heels.

"Dumb birds! Gotta teach them a lesson. Gah-ha!"

Spotting them, the upperclassman pulled his athame, raising it high. 

The blade had a look of scorched steel, and it was soon aglow with 

magic.

"Turbo Flamma!"

A burning tornado shot out of his blade, spreading rapidly outward 

and swallowing up eight wyverns in a single shot. The force of the 

winds trapped them all inside even as it burned them alive. They 

were suspended like that for just over ten seconds, then their bodies 

hit the ground, not a one of them still breathing.

"Gah-ha! Got ourselves a cookout! I was just getting hungry!"

The young man headed toward the nearest bird wyvern corpse, put 

his athame at the base of the leg, and started carving away. Then he 

noticed the trio's stares.

"Want some?" he asked. "The thighs are pretty good!"

"…Er, um…" Katie and Pete both looked flummoxed, so the young 

man took a big bite.

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Guy was already reaching into his robe, pulling out a salt shaker.

"…I got seasonings," he offered.

"Oh! Aren't you handy? Gah-ha-ha! Have a seat!"

"Huhhh?!"

They soon recovered Guy's athame and settled down, talking to their 

older savior. Once he'd heard their names and what had happened, 

he introduced himself.

"Clifton Morgan, sixth-year. Training to catch up with your friend? I 

get that!"

He folded his arms, looking them over.

"I admire the spirit, but it's real risky," he told them, his expression 

severe. "If I hadn't been passing by, that fall could've killed you."

"…I got no excuses," Guy said, well aware of his blunders.

Pete was looking even more downcast. Guy had been exposed 

precisely because his attention had been on helping his friend.

"Gah-ha-ha! Been through similar stuff myself, many a time. No way 

you can get by in this school tapping every bridge before you cross 

it," Morgan said with a laugh. "Nothing wrong with a dangerous 

bridge or two. What you need to learn is how to get across without 

dying. Don't rush for results. Rely on your elders another few 

months. Watch what they do and copy it. That'll make things come 

naturally."

He ended the lecture there, sprinkling Guy's herb-and-salt blend on 

the bird wyvern meat. He seemed to be enjoying it despite the 

haphazard preparation. He chewed a couple of times and swallowed, 

then shot the trio another grin.

126 | P a g e

"Can't remember the last time I talked to any second-years! 

Underclassmen almost never go lower than the third layer. I like this 

floor! It's teeming with life—"

He glanced around him. He sure made it sound like he lived down 

here. But before they could ask about that, Morgan clutched his 

chest.

"Cough, cough!"

As he spluttered, flames belched out of his mouth. They flinched 

back.

"Whoa…!"

"A-are you all right?! You're breathing fire!"

Even mages were only human—they weren't usually capable of this. 

Well aware of their shocked looks, Morgan coughed up a few more 

flames before his fit subsided.

"…All better. Sorry, bit of a shocker, huh?"

He shot them a rueful smile. A few seconds of silence passed as 

everyone stared at him.

"No, this is a trailblazer's duty, I guess," he said, reconsidering. "I'm 

actually not gonna get better. Don't have much time left."

Everyone gulped.

"This is the result of crossing one of those dangerous bridges," he 

said, his hand on his chest. "This inferno's a real ravager. Gah-ha! I 

was pretty sure I could control it, but no such luck."

Chuckling, he pulled his white wand, and a flame appeared at the tip. 

Primarily orange, it had tinges of green and brown mixed in—highly 

distinctive. Their eyes locked on it, watching as it branched and 

swayed.

127 | P a g e

"Don't you dare touch it. It'll do a lot more than burn ya. What I'm 

working with isn't a fire of this world. If you're second-years, you've 

started astronomy by now, right?"

They were almost afraid to admit it. Morgan's explanation built upon 

that basic knowledge.

"One of the tír that connects up to ours regularly is called Luftmarz. 

The Ravaging Inferno's Kiln. It's a world where fire flows in place of 

water. I could bend your ear all day about that environment's 

peculiarities, but the most singular of them is that the fire itself is 

evolving. They have multiple types of fire elementals alone," he said. 

"That suggests this is a world that never had many elements. Where 

our world is dominated by other types, theirs filled the gaps with a 

variety of fires. And the ecosystem is built on that. When migrations 

occur…well, you've heard how the phoenix lives within the flames 

consuming it?"

He paused there, hand on his chest again.

"I got interested in the nature of those flames. Can't exactly tell you 

what I did, but… Well, this is the result. Couldn't control it, and it's 

ravaging me from the inside."

"…You…can't get it out?" Guy asked.

"Afraid there's no treatment. It's fused with my etheric body now. 

No modern magic techniques can help. And that means I won't live 

out the year."

Guy was out of ideas, and the man cleaned the last of the meat off 

the bone.

"So there you have it! The pursuit of sorcery sometimes results in 

failures you can't walk back. But if you let that scare you, you'll get 

no results worth having… Cough, cough!"

128 | P a g e

Morgan coughed again, belching flames. When they just watched, 

speechless, he flashed a big grin.

"Come now, don't look so gloomy! You're all mages, right? Failures 

have their upsides. The data I leave will guide research to come. And 

they'll be able to avoid stepping in the same shit I did. I may have a 

date with death, but it's one of the best deaths a mage can have! 

And I get to have a nice long chat with a few lucky underclassmen! 

Gah-ha-ha!"

He laughed hard at his own joke. This was clearly neither a brave 

face nor an empty platitude. And that made them feel a little better. 

At the same time, it was a harsh reminder—research could lead to 

failure, and that failure to death. And that was hardly unusual at 

Kimberly.

Seeing them all facing reality in their own way, Morgan's smile faded.

"Given my condition, I can't exactly go back to school. But there is 

one thing preying on my mind. I'd appreciate anything you know," he 

said solemnly before asking: "How's the Blue Swallows' ace doing?"

"That turn was weak!"

The shout cracked like a lightning bolt.

Nanao had been turning her broom at the edge of the practice 

arena; Ashbury had spied her opening and jumped on it, her club 

taking a vicious sideways swipe that the Azian girl just barely 

managed to block and withstand.

"You're better than that, Ms. Hibiya!" the Blue Swallows' ace roared. 

"Both you and that broom!"

"Naturally!"

Nanao's response was just as loud, and her broom shot off, the two 

clashing in the air once again. No one else on the field, no matter the 

team, dared try to get between those clubs.

129 | P a g e

"…Yiiikes, is this even a practice match any more?"

"She's got her eyes on Nanao, poor thing… Granted, Nanao does 

seem to be having fun?"

The speakers were both on the Wild Geese. One of them took his 

eyes off the clashing clubs—and spotted something far more 

alarming. His body went stiff as a board, and he barely managed to 

croak a warning to the teammate flying with him.

"…Y-yo, look…"

"? What—? Whoa."

Said teammate reacted exactly the same way, and that reaction 

spread through the players around them.

"Well, Emmy? Nanao's flying is something else, isn't it?"

"..."

Two figures stood in the observation space outside the practice 

arena. One was a dapper gentleman with rich golden ringlets—

Theodore McFarlane. The other was a silver-haired witch, a 

personification of frozen steel—the headmistress of Kimberly, 

Esmeralda.

"Oh, don't mind us!" Theodore called, realizing there were eyes on 

them. "We're just watching, so carry on like normal."

That got things moving again, but…clearly not at anything like peak 

performance. He shook his ringlets.

"I supposed that's a bit of an ask, really. 'Normal'…with you

watching!"

Their headmistress attending practice was virtually unprecedented. 

He could hardly blame the athletes for stressing over it.

"But I suppose there are exceptions…"

130 | P a g e

Two, to be precise. Nanao and Ashbury's battle raged on, the pair 

oblivious to their teachers' presence—and the Kimberly witch's eyes 

never left them.

Practice lasted another half hour. When the whistles blew for break, 

Theodore spied his chance, his voice echoing through the skies.

"Well done, Nanao! I hate to rob you of your rest, but mind joining 

us?"

"Mm? Oh, Lord McFarlane!"

Clearly only now realizing he was here, Nanao dropped to ground 

level. Seeing the witch at his side, the Azian girl smiled.

"Unusual company you keep today," she said.

"Emmy doesn't make a habit of attending practice. But she's always 

loved broomsports. She had real passion for them in her student 

days."

"Oh? I was not aware!"

Nanao hopped off her broom, approaching the two teachers. 

Ashbury came in for a landing behind her, giving the headmistress a 

curious look.

"Fancy seeing you here," she said. "Scoping out the rookie, 

Headmistress? Or her broom?"

She didn't hesitate to pry. But her question earned her an indifferent 

glance and words that cut her and her question down.

"You've gotten slow, Ashbury."

The air froze around them. After several seconds of silence, Ashbury 

managed shakily, "…Say that again?"

"You were faster a year ago. You've grown better…but that's all," 

Esmeralda growled. "Are you scared to fly without your usual 

catcher?"

131 | P a g e

A merciless pile on that left the arena feeling as hostile as the scrape 

of metal on metal. Their teammates above gulped. But no matter 

how the Blue Swallows' ace scowled, Kimberly's top witch just kept 

going right for the source of her pride.

"You haven't set a new personal best in a while. If you've reached 

your limit and are content to train your successors, then so be it. 

Take a step back and be a typical broomrider."

"Typical?!"

Ashbury's howl refuted the very concept. She'd have drawn her 

blade if this wasn't a teacher—nay, if it wasn't the headmistress. 

Seeing the rage in her eyes, Theodore clapped his hands.

"Now, now, calm yourself, Ms. Ashbury," he said blithely. "Her words 

may be harsh, but that's her way of encouraging. You know you can 

fly faster. And that's all she wants to say." 

132 | P a g e

133 | P a g e

This might sound like an olive branch, but it failed to lighten the 

mood in the slightest. Basking in the light of Ashbury's fury, the 

headmistress spoke again.

"Seems you haven't entirely lost your moxie. I will reserve my 

disappointment for another day."

"…!"

Without results, no argument could carry any weight. Realizing that, 

Ashbury turned her broom and rocketed off toward the skies above. 

A few teammates called after her, but she ignored them, leaving the 

arena behind. Nanao watched her go, arms folded.

"Hmm. A brutal form of encouragement."

"We wouldn't put you on the spot like that, Nanao," Theodore said, 

patting her on the head. "Ms. Ashbury's position is rather 

exceptional. She's a purebred broomrider."

He turned his smile to her.

"More importantly, do you have time to talk? We'll let you go when 

your break's over."

Nanao looked at each of the teachers in turn, then smiled, nodding.

"The honor is all mine," she said.

On the grass not far from the arena was a spot perfect for tea 

parties. Theodore was laying out a tea set on a table made from 

toolplants.

"This is green tea, commonly consumed in Yamatsu. I was told to 

brew it with water well below a boil—is this right?"

His spell heated the water in no time, and he poured it into a 

Yamatsu-made pot, let it steep for a minute, then filled each of their 

cups. Nanao took a sip of the steaming green liquid, and her eyes lit 

up.

134 | P a g e

"Ah! It has been far too long."

The taste of home soothed Nanao, and she turned to the silent witch 

beside her.

"We have yet to exchange words since the entrance ceremony, 

Headmistress."

"..."

Esmeralda remained impassive. Nanao took in her face a few 

moments longer.

"Your headaches have not subsided, then?" she said. "It seems the 

trick I told you was not enough."

Theodore had been laying out sweets and looked up at this, 

surprised.

"You can tell?" he asked.

"Theodore."

The witch spoke his name like a hammer on a nail, but he shook her 

off.

"She already knows," he said. "Nanao, Emmy's headaches have a 

rather unusual cause. Simple cures will not help. I'm sure she 

appreciates the thought."

He left it at that, and Nanao did not pursue the topic further. She 

took another sip of tea, clearly possessed of no motives beyond 

concern for the witch's well-being. Pleased by that, Theodore smiled.

"Emmy, you should say something," he urged. "You have much to 

ask."

It took her a moment, but at length, the witch of Kimberly broke her 

silence.

"…How's your broom?"

135 | P a g e

"In tip-top shape," Nanao said, glancing at the broom resting beside 

her. "Amatsukaze has your interest?"

Theodore was using his wand to place plates laden with sweets 

before each of them.

"More than a little," he said. "It's the only broom in the school—

perhaps the world—that would not obey Emmy. And yet, you've 

made it yours, Nanao."

"Have I? I do my utmost to bring out the broom's power, but I 

remain no match for Ashbury."

There was a frown on her face. Everyone at Kimberly recognized 

Nanao's singular talents, but the task before her was a tall one.

"She said a broom was a part of her, like an extra limb. I knew people 

back home who felt the same about their horses. Yet, I simply cannot 

conceive of it that way. This broom is my partner. I have no intention 

of placing it under my control."

Nanao stroked Amatsukaze's handle.

"…Perhaps that's why," Esmeralda murmured.

"Mm?" Nanao blinked at her.

Catching the headmistress's intent, Theodore explained, "The reason 

your broom—Amatsukaze—accepted you as its rider. Thinking back, 

she—the previous rider—said much the same thing. 'It has more fun 

flying with me than anyone else. That's why it lets me ride it and will 

take me anywhere.'"

Clearly a fond memory for him. And when his eyes turned back to 

Nanao, there was a mix of aspiration and envy in them. Like gazing at 

the twinkle of a star he could never hope to reach.

"Most mages see brooms as little more than familiars. That goes for 

Ms. Ashbury and for Emmy, too. But you're different. And perhaps 

136 | P a g e

that's why Amatsukaze chose you. Not as its master—but as its 

partner."

"..."

Esmeralda voiced no objections to his interpretation. Nanao took this 

to mean Amatsukaze's previous rider meant a great deal to both of 

them.

"Very well. Then I shall strive to be a suitable partner," she declared, 

a smile on her face once more.

With her current riding skills, this was the most she could promise.

When Theodore nodded, Nanao held out her empty cup.

"Lord McFarlane, may I trouble you for another cup?"

"Mm? Oh, but of course."

He pointed his wand at the cup, but as he did, Nanao added 

something he did not expect.

"The headmistress first, if you would. She seems to want another 

herself."

Theodore glanced Esmeralda's way—and indeed, her cup had 

somehow grown empty. He looked rather shocked. Experience had 

told him that she would never take so much as a sip if she did not 

intend to speak further.

"…Right you are. My apologies, Emmy. I should have noticed."

"..."

He received only silence in response, and her expression had not 

once shifted this entire time. But Theodore was certain—she was 

enjoying this.

He shot Nanao a look of gratitude, and then a thought struck him.

"If I could ask one thing, Nanao—are you not afraid? Of her?"

137 | P a g e

Nanao looked baffled. "? The thought has not once crossed my mind. 

Though she is certainly intimidating."

Most people would consider fear and intimidation to be two sides of 

the same coin, but clearly Nanao saw them as entirely separate.

Theodore slapped his knee, laughing. "Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Excellent. 

That is exactly how you should be, Nanao!"

He happily refilled both their cups, praying this precious moment 

would linger a while longer.

Oliver's group rode their brooms around the Library of the Depths 

for some thirty minutes before the door opened and Gwyn's group 

entered. They flew down to meet them.

"That took a while. Rough one?" Karlie asked.

"Assignment was a poor match for us," Gwyn said. "No injuries 

sustained."

He, Shannon, and Teresa looked none the worse for wear. Oliver 

kept his relief to himself.

"Cool. We did the basic library rundown, so should we head on out?"

Karlie took the lead again, and they passed through the doors at the 

far end, leaving the library behind. Outside, they were bathed in 

sunlight. Like the second layer, it was illuminated by an artificial sun, 

the ground blanketed in well-maintained flowerbeds. The last thing 

Oliver had expected to see here.

"…A park?"

"More of a garden, really. Like the harpies inside, the gnomes look 

after it."

Karlie had taken a few steps forward, and now she swung back 

toward them, arms outstretched.

138 | P a g e

"This place is a perk for any mages who can make it this far. They got 

everything from herbs to mushrooms; whatever ingredients you 

need to brew your potions. With gnomes looking after it, you know 

the quality's guaranteed. Course, if you harvest too many, the 

reapers come after you."

Oliver nodded. This clarified some things. When they'd been 

searching for Pete on the third layer, Miligan had suggested Ophelia 

might be gathering materials on a floor below—and she'd likely 

meant this garden. Anyone who made regular use of this area 

needed the proper strength to reliably clear the prerequisite 

assignments, which was why Miligan had deemed it still too 

dangerous as a fourth-year.

Looking around the garden, Oliver frowned. "I don't see any 

gnomes," he said.

"They're pretty timid. They hide when we show up. We won't 

eatcha!"

Karlie cackled, and Oliver's eyes found gardening tools abandoned 

here and there. A few minutes before, gnomes had been at work in 

the garden, and the group's arrival had forced them all to take cover 

behind the foliage. He felt a pang of guilt.

"You'll need a proper tour of the place, but that can wait till the 

return trip. We're on a mission, so let's hit our destination first."

Karlie clearly knew her way around the place and moved swiftly 

ahead. The garden wrapped all around the library tower and was 

pretty large, so it was a solid twenty minutes before the greenery 

gave way to a large tunnel some fifty yards in diameter. The crosssection was a perfect geometric circle (thus, it was clearly no cave) 

and the walls themselves were coated in something very smooth.

139 | P a g e

"This is one of the passages to the fifth layer, commonly known as 

the helicoid halls. It's just one of twenty. Each of the halls connect to 

a different point on the fifth layer."

Following her, they stepped carefully inside. A strong gust of wind 

ruffled Oliver's hair. Ahead, the tunnel curved, and he couldn't see 

the end—as the name suggested, it was a long and winding spiral.

"If we're h-hitting…Enrico—th-this is the pl-place."

"The reason being?" Oliver pressed.

"First," Karlie said, "less foot traffic than the second layer. We don't 

want any surprises dropping in, so anything on the higher floors is 

out. Third layer could go either way, but the terrain sucks, and 

there's too much aggressive wildlife. If we wanna rule out flukes, 

tough to call the marsh a good choice.

"So we use the fourth layer's barrier to our advantage. Only mages 

with the skills to pass the assignments can even get here, which 

means much less chance of anyone passing through than up above. 

And most people who do come here are after the books. Unless you 

got a real good reason to dive further, you don't hit the tunnels."

He nodded. It all made sense. The battle before them was going to 

be fraught enough as is, and any and all precautions against a third 

party jumping in were well advised.

"Naturally, there are students who dive to the fifth floor and 

beyond," Gwyn added. "But they won't be using Hall Eleven here. It 

leads somewhere extra perilous. The only people unhinged enough 

to use it are a handful of teachers…"

"…And one of those is Enrico Forghieri?" Oliver said, increasingly 

convinced. These conditions sounded highly favorable.

"Exactly. And all this is only half the reason," Karlie replied.

When Oliver looked surprised, Robert took over.

140 | P a g e

"T-try using a barrier spell. Aim it at the f-floor. D-don't hold back."

"…?"

Puzzled, Oliver drew his athame and aimed it down.

"Clypeus!"

The spell's light hit the floor…but seconds passed, and no barrier 

formed. Oliver's frown deepened.

"…We can't alter it?"

"That's right," Karlie said. "The fourth layer is highly neutral, which 

means the terrain here is extremely resistant to magical 

interference. Even on other floors, if you smash a wall down, it fixes 

itself, right? Basically just an extra strong version of that. Labyrinth 

homeostasis."

Oliver experimented with a few more spells, but the results were 

always the same. No matter the element, spells cast here vanished 

uselessly into the terrain.

"And then there's the reapers. They patrol the library heavily, 

keeping the valuable books safe. But the helicoid halls are out of 

bounds. They maintain homeostasis, but we can go buck wild, and 

the reapers won't show. Best of both worlds." Karlie grinned.

Oliver nodded, and Karlie looked further down the tunnel.

"Point is, it's nigh impossible to mess with the terrain magically. 

Given our objective, can you see why we'd want that?"

"Golem interference," Oliver said. Not a difficult conclusion to reach.

"Yep!" Karlie said, beaming at him. "You've tried chasing Enrico 

around down here before, so you know how bad it gets. We hit him 

anywhere else, no telling what golems or magic traps'll come at us. 

That happens, the fight'll just be pure chaos. And we either wear 

141 | P a g e

ourselves out and end up obliterated or get bogged down long 

enough for him to escape—either way, it won't end well."

"…I've been wondering about that for a while. How does Enrico have 

so many golems and traps ready and waiting?"

"I'm afraid n-nobody knows. W-we've tried tailing and s-scouting but 

to no avail. But it's m-more than just the first l-layer. They s-swarm 

out on the second and third, too."

Robert's frustration was clear. They'd spent a year trying to figure it 

out and learned only that their opponent was not to be trifled with.

"B-but we can guess. We s-suspect there's a g-golem that plants 

other golems. We h-have s-several theories about how that works 

but…he c-can't use it here. The fourth layer's homeostasis is t-too 

strong."

Robert seemed sure of that, at least, and Oliver took him at his word, 

nodding. They might not know everything, but what they did know 

was enough to dull their target's advantage. And that was why 

they'd chosen the helicoid halls.

"We'll still have to fight Enrico Forghieri himself and however many 

small or medium golems he has on him. But fighting here limits him 

to that," said Karlie. "Meanwhile, our side has thirty-two committed 

to the attempt. We go all out, we've got a viable shot."

Enrico Forghieri was a builder. His threat level was concentrated in 

the golems the man himself designed and constructed. This was a big 

part of why they were hitting him before the other five targets. If 

they could peel him away from his golems, fighting only the man 

himself, then in theory, he'd be one of the easier opponents.

But Oliver was very aware that theory was but a small comfort. There 

was no chance of starting within the spellblade's range, as he had 

with Darius. With one Kimberly instructor already taken out, the rest 

142 | P a g e

would be on guard against a spellblade. And Enrico himself was 

hardly a close-range fighter.

And the nature of Oliver's spellblade meant he couldn't hide his 

intentions until the last possible second. It required extreme 

concentration, and to activate it at all, he had to be in combat mode, 

both mentally and physically. His hostility would be more than 

evident. That was one reason why he'd gone after Darius head-on, 

baiting him into a duel.

But for all the reasons mentioned, a duel would not be possible this 

time around. Like Karlie said, victory was only achievable with the full 

support of his comrades. Armed with that conclusion, he asked, 

"How long is this hall?"

"Just over seven miles," Karlie answered. "Even at top broomspeed, 

you can't get through it fast. The tunnels also serve as safety valves, 

preventing the real nasty customers from wandering up from down 

below. If we're hitting him, we'd do it somewhere in the middle."

"And it never branches?"

"Not even once. Can't even make one because of the homeostasis. 

Even if he could, it'd be faster to just kill us all."

Oliver could think of nothing else to ask. He took a few deep breaths. 

Decision time. With all the advantages this provided, any further 

hesitation would just be cowardice.

"Very well. We hit the mad old man here."

Even as he said it, a shiver ran down his spine. Fear, tension—and a 

dark glee that overshadowed those apprehensions.