Wave (1)
Ever since that day, Yuna spent more and more time gazing blankly into the distance.
There was a wistful, melancholic air about her that had begun to stir the classroom. Under normal circumstances, Yuna deliberately reined in her presence through exaggerated expressions and eccentric antics to downplay her striking looks—weaponizing the sheer dissonance between her face and her behavior. So when she sat utterly motionless like this, there was an effortless magnetism to her that drew every eye in the room.
Fortunately, no clueless idiot had fallen for her charms enough to confess their love or ask her out. That was because every single tactless bastard in our year had already died off over the course of the past year.
A truly fortunate thing, honestly.
Then, of course, came the things that weren't fortunate in the slightest.
"Have you noticed their movements lately? It feels like they're throwing themselves away just to die."
"Seems like they're trying to corrupt the ground itself. You can kind of guess what they're after, but trying to make sense of it is the real headache."
Lately, the frequency of terrorist attacks just outside the Cradle had skyrocketed. The Imperial Knights were practically garrisoned here around the clock to cull the dark mages of Under Chain, but the enemy simply had numbers on their side. Even after an attack was quelled, the earth was invariably left corrupted, and purifying tainted land required an immense amount of time.
"This is all because His Imperial Majesty..."
"Shh! Watch your mouth."
Needless to say, everyone knew precisely who was to blame for this escalating disaster. That motherfucker of an Emperor had brutally crushed and purged religion across the empire. Nothing in this world was more effective at purifying tainted ground than Holy Power, but thanks to him, literally everyone capable of wielding Holy Power had been branded terrorists.
Yep. Eden, and only Eden.
"If they're stirring up this much trouble, a full-scale raid has to be coming soon, right?"
"It's been a while since the last one. Wonder if we'll be fine. What about the current first-years?"
"We'll just have to protect them while letting them build up some combat experience."
The reason Under Chain was corrupting the perimeter around the Cradle was all too obvious: it was overwhelmingly likely the groundwork for a massive, coordinated assault.
What I couldn't grasp was why.
No matter how many disposable bodies their cult commanded, grinding away living lives at this rate was a net loss. What could possibly be worth bleeding this much manpower for?
If this whole operation was being orchestrated by the Great Sage himself, it was certainly suspicious, but...
For starters, none of this happened in the game.
My entire plan to endure until second year was predicated on the Cradle becoming a relatively safe haven by then.
Of course, "safe" was relative. Even recently, people like Jeff and Melana had been running around causing trouble. But that scale had been small—hardly anything more than a minor subquest. Even figures as monstrous as Tillis and Cult had kept a remarkably low profile while within the Cradle's walls.
The reason the Cradle could maintain that quiet wasn't because I held blind faith in the original game's plot. It was because I believed in Olga Hermod's might.
Even if the future shifted, people didn't. As long as Olga Hermod stood whole and healthy, the Cradle was an impregnable fortress. She was one of the empire's three officially recognized Archmages—a pillar whose power could never be taken lightly. We were talking about someone who possessed the knowledge and sheer mastery required to forge entirely new branches of magic.
A reason to strike the Cradle despite all of that...
I glanced toward Yuna, who was still staring vacantly out the window.
She had some sort of connection to the man named Charybdis Salos. If this entire scheme had been devised around Charybdis by the Great Sage, then the ultimate objective was almost certainly linked to Yuna.
Had the Great Sage uncovered the Safe Clown's true identity? Was this an operation to eliminate Yuna before she could become an uncontrollable threat?
"Haaah..."
I couldn't afford to overlook the obvious. An assault on the Cradle was practically a foregone conclusion at this point.
And no, I couldn't just invent some pathetic excuse to slip away to a safe zone on my own. It wasn't because of a guilty conscience; it was because Under Chain had their eyes locked onto me, too. After what happened with Melana, they were almost certainly tracking my movements. Evacuating all by myself far from the academy grounds would just turn me into a prime target.
In the end, that meant I had to weather this raid right here in the Cradle.
If there was any silver lining, it was that Olga Hermod's protection would be incomparably more solid than anything we had last year.
"Guess I should start by gathering some intel..."
It was time to piece together the relationship triangle between Yuna, Charybdis Salos, and Under Chain. And to find that answer, the first step was...
"Ah! Yohan, where are you going?"
"Just going to see the Chancellor for a bit. Want to come along, Yuna?"
"...Mmm, I'll pass. Unless there's a really good reason, I'd rather not see her. She's a bit... overwhelming."
Well, Olga Hermod had subdued Yuna without breaking a sweat. For a free spirit like her, crossing paths with the woman was the last thing she'd want.
At least, that was what I assumed.
When I requested a meeting, Olga Hermod readily granted it.
The moment I stepped inside her office, the fragrant aroma of freshly brewed black tea greeted my senses. It was enough to tell me she had anticipated my arrival.
With a reaction like this, it was all but certain: Olga Hermod personally knew Charybdis Salos. Considering they were both war heroes, I had suspected as much, and it seemed my hunch was right on the mark.
"What would you like to ask first?"
"Well, let's see."
She wasn't dodging the topic. I appreciated that immensely. It meant we wouldn't have to waste time playing coy or probing each other with empty pleasantries.
"First of all: how is the Cradle's defense coming along? To be blunt, I'm terrified. As you know, I'm quite fragile."
"I would think Student Yohan is plenty robust... though I suppose feeling intimidated when comparing yourself to your peers is unavoidable."
"Right?"
See? I'm not out of shape. That's officially certified by a Grand Archmage.
"Truth be told, I have quite the headache over this myself. The enemy's intentions are far too blatant, so I formally requested the deployment of the Imperial Knights."
"Rejected, I take it?"
"Yes. The reason given was that the Imperial Knights cannot be tied down to a single location. In fairness, they truly are rushing from one hotspot to another even as we speak."
She wasn't wrong. Hearing "Imperial Knights" might evoke images of stiff-necked, bureaucratic nobles glued to their chairs, but the reality was that they were battle-hardened butchers who had practically lived on the front lines. They constantly craved violence.
In other words, they were working extremely hard.
"So there's no other support?"
"Regrettably, most of what was offered is practically useless. I accepted it anyway, though. I suppose I can liquidate the supplies later and hand out scholarships to hardworking students."
"Even without that, doesn't plenty of gold trickle down from the top anyway?"
"I intend to grant this personally to a student I favor."
Wait. Could it be me?
"It isn't you, Student Yohan, so please don't get your hopes up."
"I know."
Fair enough. My grades were mediocre, and I wasn't exactly known for diligence. My only notable achievement so far was the cure for Transcendence Sickness, but it remained incomplete and the synthesis process was far from refined, so there was no formal reward yet.
"Which means," Olga continued, "defending the Cradle falls entirely upon myself and the faculty."
"How deeply reassuring."
This academy is doomed.
"Well, I would appreciate it if you took comfort in knowing that I have made preparations of my own. You may rest easy. As long as everyone remains quiet and obedient, no one will come to harm."
"..."
What overwhelming confidence.
Still, whatever she had prepared, it was bound to be vastly better than any half-baked stunt I could pull. It would be one thing if she were suffering from terminal complacency and doing nothing, but since an Archmage herself was actively preparing for the strike, that was enough for me.
"Then..."
"Your next question will be regarding Charybdis Salos, I presume? And after that, his relationship with Student Yuna."
"...Spot on."
"Are you worried about Student Yuna?"
"I won't pretend I'm not."
"I see."
Olga Hermod smiled warmly, gentle as ever.
Every time I spoke with her, the impression remained the same: Olga Hermod was genuinely a good person.
"This may take a little while. We ought to begin with what kind of man Charybdis Salos was."
"Is it that important?"
"Well... consider it the rambling of an old soldier. If you only hear the conclusion, my comrade will seem like nothing more than a villain."
"Isn't he a villain, though?"
"He is."
A wry chuckle.
Followed by a heavy sigh.
"However, not everyone begins that way. I simply wish someone would understand that."
"Does that someone have to be me?"
"You are Student Yuna's friend, are you not?"
"...Do you want me to pass this story on to Yuna?"
"That is entirely up to you, Student Yohan. It is not my place to interfere."
Olga Hermod set down the teapot and arranged a plate of tea pastries on the table.
"You don't have afternoon classes, do you?"
"Well, even if I did, I'd just skip."
"I suppose that, too, is quintessential of a student."
Olga Hermod chuckled softly at my shameless declaration of truancy.
And so, the story began.
Charybdis Salos was a mage blessed with the innate Trait of Wave.
His moniker as the Mage of Waves came from his unmatched genius in weaving that Trait into variations of spellcraft.
He was the sweeper of the battlefield.
The walls of flame he conjured surged through enemy ranks like tsunamis, and where those blazing waves receded, nothing remained of white sea foam—only pitch-black charcoal.
"Damn it all..."
"Isn't it about time you grew used to it, Charybdis?"
Olga Hermod and Charybdis Salos were among the longest-surviving veterans conscripted from the common folk. To stay alive, they had had no choice but to grow stronger, burying countless comrades along the way. In return, the two of them had evolved into peerless mages.
It was a culmination bought only after slaughtering thousands upon thousands of human beings.
"I heard screaming."
"Your imagination."
By then, Olga Hermod had become thoroughly desensitized to killing, but Charybdis was different. Every night, nightmares plagued his sleep. He bore unbearable guilt for every soul he snuffed out.
Back then, Olga regarded Charybdis as far more human than herself. While war had ground her down into an emotionally calloused husk, Charybdis remained vulnerable.
And on the battlefield, such tender-heartedness was lethal.
Then came a certain day.
"Haah... At it again, is he?"
Upon hearing news of Charybdis's desertion, Olga Hermod set out to track him down. Desertion was practically a routine occurrence for him, crushed beneath the weight of his own conscience, so it was hardly a surprise.
Fortunately, Charybdis Salos was located in a village not far from their encampment.
Yet the state she found him in was nothing like what she had anticipated.
"...What on earth happened?"
Olga had expected him to be writhing in solitary anguish, drowned in guilt as usual.
Instead, what met her eyes inside the modest wooden cabin was Charybdis drenched from head to toe in blood, heaving ragged breaths.
Surrounding him lay three corpses.
Without question, the owners of this very cabin.
"Ha... Hahaha! God damn it... Seems my karma has piled up a bit too high."
"..."
Olga examined the three corpses on the floor. What appeared to be an ordinary family lay strangled to death.
It wasn't hard to piece together what had happened.
"We've gotten quite famous, haven't we, Olga Hermod?"
"The rumor that you frequently desert has likely spread far and wide."
"They should've executed me under martial law."
"Indeed they should have."
Under imperial military law, wartime desertion was punishable by immediate death. But Charybdis's prowess was far too precious to discard on a gallows. Thus, the military brass constantly dispatched Olga Hermod to drag him back by the scruff of his neck.
While it was an endless nuisance for Olga, it was sheer torment for Charybdis.
"They looked like an ordinary family."
"So it appears."
"I stumbled across this cabin and asked if I could stay for the night, and they welcomed me with open arms. I thought they were kind people. But... they tried to kill me."
"...A common tactic."
"One of them was still just a child! Even a child tried to slit my throat!"
"Even our Empire deploys child soldiers. You should have stayed on your guard."
"And because a decrepit, worn-out old dog couldn't bring himself to die quietly and flailed around in wretched panic, this tragedy is the result."
"Haaah..."
Olga rubbed the bridge of her nose in deep fatigue. Keeping a man who should have been discharged long ago chained to the front line was breeding madness. To her eyes, Charybdis was already scraping the bottom of his sanity.
"Where did they come from? Why did they want me dead? How long have they been lying in wait here?"
"Who can say."
"Given how desperately they hated me, it must be the sins of my past catching up to me. But I've piled up so much damn karma that I can't even begin to guess whose blood this is. Kehehe..."
Charybdis staggered to his feet.
He had killed today. It wasn't the usual massacre of hundreds swept away with a single wave of his staff, but a mere three lives. Yet these deaths had occurred at an intimate, suffocating proximity unlike anything before.
"Olga."
"Yes."
"We're all going to die. Karma always comes due in the end."
"Perhaps so. I certainly don't expect to die peacefully in my bed either."
"Then do you think I'll be able to accept it when my time comes?"
"..."
"A coward who flailed about so pathetically just to cling to life, even in a moment like this? I won't run away anymore. Because now I know... I know that deep down, I'm terrified of dying."
True to his word, Charybdis never deserted again after that day.
Instead, he agonized under his guilt, rotting further from the inside out with every passing campaign.
And then, one day.
The war finally ended.
With the war over, paranoia consumed Charybdis.
He reacted with manic dread to anyone who drew near, constantly trembling in terror. Strangers terrified him. That fear swelled to a magnitude matching the mountain of blood on his hands, and often, unable to master his terror, he assaulted or even slaughtered those who approached him.
And then he would drown in guilt.
He would throw himself to the floor, weeping and begging for forgiveness from the corpses he had murdered out of panic.
Yet the Empire did not lock him in a dungeon.
Instead, they bestowed upon him a noble title, granted him a lavish estate staffed with servants, and urged him to show his face to high society on a regular basis.
Though the war had ended, the Empire still required a living deterrent.
Charybdis could not bring himself to defy the Emperor's decrees. Because he knew all too well that he feared death above all else.
Yes, it was always the same vicious cycle.
"You think... you think I'll just roll over and die for you?! You cursed bastards!!"
Driven by madness once again, he doubted, battered, and slaughtered.
His victim was a young man, along with the young man's wife, who had thrown herself in front of Charybdis in a desperate attempt to protect her husband.
And there, in that very room, she stood.
"..."
A little girl with pink hair, silently watching the butchered remains of her parents.