Pendant? (1)
……In the dream, Sylvia lay in someone's arms, drifting off to sleep. They were so warm and firm—perfect as a pillow.
Something felt a little lacking, though, so she snuggled closer, burying her face in his chest.
Was it too much? she wondered anxiously, but as if to dismiss the thought, he reached out and wrapped her in his embrace.
Her heart filled with warmth.
The ground beneath her was soft as grass, flowers bloomed around them, and butterflies and bees fluttered lazily in the air.
Everything was beautiful.
The whole world felt like it belonged to her alone.
Yet a corner of her heart still ached.
Some nagging doubt tormented her relentlessly.
As if sensing it, he held her even tighter and whispered reassuring words.
Sylvia smiled and nestled into his arms.
She was no longer alone.
She wouldn't have to bear the solitude, the sorrow, by herself anymore.
Because he was by her side……
“……”
Sylvia opened her eyes. The ceiling came into view first—the artificial shelter she had created.
Rustle, rustle—
She rubbed at her eyes. A single tear had welled up. No, her fingers were soaked.
“……Ah.”
It had been such a happy dream that the awakening was pure agony.
All the emotions she'd been suppressing surged forth.
—I won't let you ruin Sylvia.
His words echoed in her ears once more.
Sylvia clutched her face.
Her breathing grew ragged, her chest tightening as if in a panic attack.
She trembled for a long while before pulling a vial from her inner pocket. She molded the herbs inside into a pill-like form.
Gulp— She swallowed it.
“Haa.”
The drowning panic halted in an instant. Sylvia breathed steadily, calming herself. Then she dismantled her private space.
Whiiiirrr……
The Tri-Color faded, revealing the landscape beyond.
A crowd had gathered around her before she knew it.
“Sylvia. Knew it was you.”
Nearby, Ifrin flashed a grin. She was with Kariksel and some woman.
Sylvia nodded.
“Stupid Ifrin. You actually passed.”
“Heh. Of course I did. Oh yeah, we got ambushed too, y'know? Some weirdos broke in here—”
Ifrin strutted proudly, but Sylvia ignored her.
At that moment, the examiner Mimic announced the end of the test.
“Alright. Seventy-two hours are up—time's over. Everyone gather 'round. A total of 113 candidates pass the first exam. The 900 dropouts will take separate tests for other tracks.
The examinees sat and watched the Mimic.
The Mimic wrote a list of names in the air.
2nd Exam: Mentor and Mentee
Think of it as an interview. Choose one of the examiners above and go to them directly for evaluation.
Longdalp, Roserio, Deculein, Ihelm, Kransia, and more—renowned mages aplenty. Roserio and Longdalp especially.
But Sylvia's gaze was fixed on one person.
“Decide within thirty minutes and line up at your chosen examiner's door.”
The long corridor's shadows lifted, revealing interview rooms. Each door bore a nameplate.
Sylvia headed straight for the one marked [Deculein].
“Debutante Sylvia and Debutante Ifrin—you two cannot be examined by Professor Deculein.”
The Mimic blocked her suddenly. Sylvia narrowed her eyes. Ifrin, behind her, tilted her head in confusion.
“Why not.”
“You're from the same university. It could compromise fairness.”
“……”
Sylvia had no choice but to select [Roserio] instead. A mage who had reached Ether Rank at a young age.
Meanwhile, Ifrin pondered briefly before approaching [Longdalp].
“Note that the higher the examiner's rank and fame, the tougher the interview might be!”
Sylvia pouted, eyeing Deculein's door. One man and one woman were there. The man was Kariksel; the woman, unknown.
* * *
Kariksel and Mayho were the two who chose Deculein. His notoriously picky nature was well-known—out of 125, only these two.
“Miss Mayho, I'll go first then.”
“Sureee~”
Kariksel smiled brightly and opened the door marked [Deculein].
The room was plain enough. Deculein sat at the far end of the white, tidy space. Kariksel closed the door and approached.
“Greetings, Professor Deculein. Thank you for the other day.”
Kariksel expressed gratitude for the incident half a day prior. Deculein offered no small talk.
“Sit.”
“Yes.”
Kariksel sat. Before Deculein could speak, he asked first.
“Professor, is this process being recorded or filmed via crystal orb?”
“What concern is that of yours.”
Deculein replied curtly and picked up Kariksel's report.
Thirty-three. Three children. Kariksel.
Kariksel asked gravely again.
“It is important. I beg you.”
“……I shall write the report myself. No recording or filming.”
“I see.”
Kariksel nodded resolutely, then said something Deculein could never have imagined.
“Professor. I am Altiegue.”
“……?”
Deculein's eyes shifted from the report to Kariksel. He tilted his head at the abrupt declaration.
“Haha…… My goal from the start was to meet you 'alone.' We've met twice before, of course, but there were too many eyes then, so I waited.”
“You knew the exam contents in advance?”
“To some extent, yes.”
“……”
Deculein listened silently for now.
“I came to negotiate. The 'All-People Grand Festival Terror Incident' was not our doing. My tribe seeks only peace.”
Absurd as it was, Deculein's posture remained rigid, gripping the report.
“It was all the Altar's scheme. Our Grand Elder will issue a statement. If you wish, the Grand Elder is even willing to speak directly with the Empire—”
Deculein's face twisted like a demon's. Leaning toward Kariksel, he glared into his eyes.
“The Grand Elder dies the moment they show themselves.”
“……”
Kariksel's heart skipped a beat.
But it was undeniable truth, without a shred of deceit.
The Grand Elder must not appear. Their public emergence would trigger death flags and random events like mad.
“No—if they set foot on Empire soil or reveal themselves, I shall kill them myself.”
A declaration to kill the Grand Elder, who must survive long-term. Deculein's stern warning.
He leaned back in his chair.
“……Your courage is commendable, and the Floating Island binds to no continental law, so your words shall remain buried here. However.”
He glared at Kariksel. Ghostly sharp eyes. Overwhelmed by the gaze alone, Kariksel truly felt Deculein's reputation.
“Delude yourself not. This is no time for Altiegue vermin to speak out. Especially not before me.”
“……”
“Hide before you are exterminated. That is my advice to you.”
A clear negotiation failure from Kariksel's view, but he had more to say. He hadn't expected success anyway.
His true aim was slightly different.
“Then send me to Rohalak Detention Camp.”
An even stranger request. Deculein set down his pen and report.
“I am better known as Broellin.”
Deculein nodded at the name. Broellin wasn't a major named NPC, but topped the Imperial Guard's most-wanted list.
“Arrest me, Professor, claim the credit and fame. In return, let me join my tribe at Rohalak.”
“……”
“Not a bad deal, is it?”
Deculein eyed him with narrowed gaze. Kariksel met it steadily.
Deculein tested his sincerity.
“Why should I bother? I could seize you now and drag you to the scaffold.”
“Of course you could, Professor. But do you remember Rockhark?”
Rockhark.
The mage hunter—and Deculein's first Altiegue encounter.
“Rockhark said you were a true noble. The only noble who understood us, not as demons.”
“……”
“Were those words false?”
Deculein was the sole noble who protected Altiegue at Verhert, sparing Rockhark despite knowing his identity.
Kariksel trusted not the mage Deculein, but the noble. He appealed to his honor.
“……What do you plan there? Prisoners have their mana cores crippled.”
Right approach. Kariksel sighed in relief and continued.
“I possess special items. Made with the talent Midas' Hand. Pre-made ones function even after crippling. So please, allow me my personal belongings. They are no means for terror or escape.”
Kariksel shared Deculein's trait. Or rather, Kim Woojin had bestowed it upon Deculein via Kariksel.
“……”
Deculein stared wordlessly.
Kariksel's heart raced wildly. But he had some certainty. Even purely transactional, it balanced for both.
──Finally.
“I may cripple your mana core and sever a limb.”
“Yes. I accept gladly.”
A brutal permission. Kariksel pulled a notebook from his pocket and wrote instructions—where and how he'd be captured.
Deculein slipped the note between his fingers.
“If this is a trick, I shall exterminate your tribe without hesitation.”
“Yes. You won't betray me, Professor, so I shall uphold my end.”
Kariksel bowed deeply, forehead nearly to the ground.
Trusting the man who vowed to kill his Grand Elder.
“Begone.”
“Thank you.”
Deculein watched Kariksel rise and leave.
His broad back strode firmly. Unfazed by looming hardships, fearing mana core crippling and pain less than separation from his tribe—filled with relief at reunion.
A curious man.
No—a true leader.
Deculein asked him.
“Three children, you say. False information?”
Kariksel paused, smiling bitterly, shaking his head.
“Not false. But they'll thrive without me.”
“Hmph. Fair one, aren't you.”
Deculein smirked and waved him off.
Dismissal.
*
Meanwhile, Sylvia faced Roserio in her interview room. The mage's pink hair fascinated her most.
“What d'ya see in this?”
Roserio pointed to the magic circle on her desk. Sylvia reconstructed it visually and described the scene in her mind's eye.
“A city. Mountains behind, river through the center.”
“Good~ Pass.”
“……”
Instant pass.
Sylvia tilted her head like a child. Roserio chuckled, explaining.
“This spell needs solid mana sensitivity and series understanding. To a normal mage, it's just lines and circles. Talented ones take ten minutes maybe. But you saw it in ten seconds. Done deal~”
“……”
“Hey now, don't look so suspicious. It's real tough!”
Sylvia nodded and asked.
“May I go now?”
“Yep. See ya later. Comin' to the Floating Island? We'll hang longer there.”
“……”
Roserio's words.
Sylvia left without reply.
*
[Longdalp]
Ifrin opened the door marked Longdalp. Beyond lay a long, dark passage.
“Kinda intense, huh……”
Gulp—
She swallowed and stepped forward.
Squish— The ground sank, but she radiated mana for footing.
That instant, arrows whistled from above. She blocked with a hasty Barrier.
Whiiiish—!
Whips surged from all sides. She unleashed Flame Serpent, fusing fire and wind. It coiled flexibly, devouring them all.
“Whew! Nice.”
Ifrin wiped sweat, praising herself. But the passage stretched on, fog now blocking vision.
Her head spun—cigarette smoke or worse.
“Hoo…… hoo……”
Ifrin teetered but pressed on.
Thick, heavy mana in the air dragged at her, but she resisted stubbornly, advancing relentlessly.
Thus—a mere 30 meters took fully ten minutes.
Light gleamed ahead. Ifrin squinted.
Longdalp, fairy-tale wizard incarnate, fiddled with his long beard.
“……Ah!”
Ifrin rushed to him. Longdalp smiled kindly.
“Congrats. You passed the interview.”
“……Huh? That's it?”
“Aye. That passage was my own magic trap. Tests mental fortitude, mana, magical improvisation. Passing that suffices. Why complicate interviews? You're Soda anyway.”
“Ah……”
It clicked.
Soda mattered for Debutantes; to Ether or Monarch Rank, they were just cute.
“Lemme see…… your name……”
Longdalp eyed his desk papers, then widened his eyes as if recalling something, looking up.
“Well now. Hold on.”
He peered intently at Ifrin. She straightened, startled, fists on knees, swallowing hard.
“Wh-what is it?”
“You…… hmm……”
Frowning thoughtfully, Longdalp said.
“Smile fer me. And take off yer robe.”
“Y-yes? My robe?”
“Quick-like.”
Ifrin eyed him dubiously.
This grandpa a kind pervert?
Nah, must be a reason.
Hesitating, she removed her robe first.
“Now smile.”
“Wh-why.”
“Hurry!”
His urging evoked a rural tiger village chief.
Ifrin forced her lips up.
“Not like a monster.”
“Monster? No— ehehehe!”
Laughter burst out. Longdalp had tickled her armpits with magic.
“Ehehehe, st-stop, why, heehee!”
Seeing her pure smile, Longdalp sighed, leaning back.
“Ah really, wh-what's that about! I'll report you!”
Still giggling, Ifrin hugged herself. Longdalp gazed softly, murmuring.
“So you're the kid from the pendant Deculein asked me to restore.”
“……What about me?”
Longdalp recalled.
Once, a pendant Deculein had begged him to restore.
The child in the photo inside.
He'd glimpsed it briefly, but his memory was sharp.
“What's your relation to Deculein?”
“Pardon?”
Longdalp asked seriously. Ifrin blinked in bewilderment.
“Relation……”
“Be honest. My eyes don't lie.”
Mana gleamed in Longdalp's eyes.
Harmony series meant communion—world-human, human-human. For its pinnacle, Longdalp, discerning truth was effortless.
Ifrin glanced warily before answering.
“……Enemies.”
“Enemies?”
“Yes.”
“Deculein's your enemy?”
“……That's all I'll say.”
Ifrin clamped her mouth. Longdalp crossed arms, baffled.
Fidgeting fingers, Ifrin snapped.
“What the hell, seriously. Is this the exam?”
“……Fascinatin'. You seein' Deculein as enemy.”
“Why's that fascinating? Keep it up, I'll report you for real.”
“Report? For what?”
“Made me strip my robe. Tickled me forcibly. Gimme a reason.”
“……”
Longdalp stared incredulously, then murmured low.
“You see him as foe, but he seems to value you more than you think.”
“……Wh-what? Value?”
Ifrin's face twisted.
Deculein—that Deculein—values me?
Ridiculous nonsense.
“Elsewise, he wouldn't beg me to restore that worn pendant. Even ask nicely.”
Longdalp reminisced.
—Elder Longdalp.
—Hm? Deculein, you callin' me?
—Yes. A favor. Restore this pendant, please.
“He asked me, his father's enemy. Kid's pride mirrors his old man's.”
Longdalp hadn't expected Deculein to approach personally.
Yet he did, paid, and left.
“What favor? Tell me!”
Ifrin clenched fists, yelling. Longdalp eyed her askance.
Little gain from this child.
None, really.
Young days ignored unprofitable matters……
Am I that old? Old man's curiosity and mischief—curse 'em.
“Deculein once asked me to restore a pendant. Inside was a photo of you…… as a child. Ahem.”
Deculein had mentioned the "suicide assistant" too, but Longdalp skipped that.
“Wouldn't ask me 'less it was precious. His dad hated my guts.”
Ifrin's body stiffened.
Time froze; she stared blankly at Longdalp.
“Strange fella. Thought it family, with no sense of propriety carryin' a kid's photo pendant……”
Longdalp smiled wryly.
“Turns out his disciple's childhood.”
Ifrin's mind blanked. Face frozen, muscles inert. Nostrils flared occasionally.
Longdalp's lips twitched watching her.
“Heh, I'm gettin' old. Joy in a kid's confusion. Kekekeke.”
The hobbyist's path, eh?
—Yes! Exactly!
Recalling Adrienne's chirp, Longdalp grinned openly.
Pendant? (2)